The Black Swan and the Officer
DarlaCassic · 57 chapters · 143,519 words
【Welcome】
The Black Swan and the Officer is a sequel to The Prince and the Spitfire .
Both books can be read independently, but I would advise that you read The Prince and the Spitfire first, as this one will contain some important spoilers.
Maeve Langston is the daughter of Aiden and Amalia, the main characters of the first book. You can find
The Prince and the Spitfire on my profile.
England, 1790.
Aiden Langston, Earl Graham, future Duke of Leeds, is a jaded young man.
Amalia Romero is a proud Bohemian, she has always fended for herself, and she needs no one by her side.
When Aiden is forced to remain in the family manor for the summer, far from London and its welcomed distractions, he meets Amalia, who he hires to give him violin lessons. Although he has lived a full and debauched life, nothing had prepared him for the force of nature that she turns out to be.
All that matters to Amalia is her freedom. She is stubborn and determined not to let a man dictate her life. Her assurance soon wavers as she meets Aiden, a dashing aristocrat who troubles her.
Through their shared love for music, Aiden and Amalia will learn to know each other. But when the differences are so great, can things work out in the end?
【Prologue】
“This is better than staying at home, isn’t it?” John Delawney asked with a knowing side glance.
Lucian hadn’t expected to spend most of his time following his friend in balls and soirées; not when his permission was so short. Delawney had, once more, dragged him to another evening of mingling. It was a great event, with many guests. Overall, Lucian was having a good time, enjoying the presence of his friends, making new ones. He was proudly wearing his brand new Colonel uniform and enjoyed how powerful it made him feel.
“Tonight might be, yes,” Lucian concurred. “But yesterday wasn’t.”
“Ah, yes… Who knew Clifford was into this kind of… thing.”
Both men grimaced at the memory of the evening before. Delawney was quickly distracted by one of their friends, who was suggesting a game of cards in a quiet room somewhere. As he sipped on his glass, Lucian scanned the room with attentive eyes.
His inspection came to an abrupt stop when his gaze came upon one of the most gorgeous women he had ever set his eyes on, evolving in her surroundings with a grace and an easiness that made it clear she was born in the highest of worlds.
She was wearing a luxurious Bois de Rose silk dress, and the color heightened her pale complexion. Her figure was lovely, accentuated by the shape of her dress, her waist thinned by the tight corset underneath. She was tall but well-proportioned, and although she was svelte, he could guess the curve of her hips under the layers of fine fabric covering them. Her long and slender neck seemed too frail to carry her head, with her luxuriant hair, as black as onyx, perfectly styled to the current fashion.
Her face was as delicate as the rest of her, even if her jaw was too angular for the standard taste, which was more into round, feminine faces. Her nose was slim, and its tip was slightly turned up. Her mouth was generous, and her lips had a dark shade of pink. Her eyes were so incredibly blue that even from the other side of the room, he could gauge their color. One of her dark eyebrows was a little higher, as she was looking around with annoyance, as if bored with the crowd surrounding her.
He had never liked vanity. Arrogance was one of the worst flaws a man, or a woman, could have, and her smugness should have cut short his fascination for the stranger. But something happened.
Another dark-haired woman with a peach dress came and whispered something in her ear. At first, an amused shock struck the young woman’s face, and in a few seconds, a silent laugh overtook her. The other woman broke into giggles too, and they both tried to calm themselves. They were struggling to catch their breath, their lungs confined by tight corsets. The more they were trying to repress it, the harder they would laugh, and he watched, fascinated, as this heavenly creature, who had seemed so cold and arrogant moments ago, became a mortal made of flesh, like the rest of them.
When they finally managed to calm down, both women turned their attention back to the room, and for the first time, Lucian saw the face of the second one. Identical twins.
Could it be them? he wondered. Were they the little girls he’d seen, so many years ago?
If he was right, then the first time he’d encountered them, he was still a boy, around twelve, and his family had paid a visit to his sister’s suitor. He remembered how his father, the late Baron Worthington, had been enraged when he’d discovered that the Duke of Leeds would, in fact, not marry Harriet, Lucian’s youngest older sister.
The memory could have easily faded with time, but he’d had a secluded childhood, and it had been his very first time seeing twins. He still had the image of those two little girls, identical in every way. Being born so long after his siblings, he had always felt like an only child, and the idea of having a twin, a brother so close to him they would even look the same, had become a recurring thought throughout the rest of his youth
He turned to Delawney who was still making arrangements for the card game. “Who are those women?” he asked, gesturing in the direction of the twins. Delawney looked at who he was talking about and gave him a strange look, incredulous.
“Oh right!” he remembered. “I keep forgetting you have not been out here for years.” His friend came to his side and wrapped his arm over his shoulder, as best as he could, given their size difference. “Those, my good friend, are the Swan Sisters.”
Lucian gave him a confused look. What on earth was that about?
“They are the exquisite daughters of the Marquessa who married the Duke of Leeds. They have been on everyone’s lips ever since they came out, three Seasons ago. Their education, gracefulness, beauty, and manners make them fit for a king. As a consequence, no one seems to have been good enough” Delawney gravely declared.
He pulled on Lucian’s shoulder to make him get lower, and with a low voice, he added, “I have heard a rumor that even the Prince Regent was rejected by them.”
Lucian frowned. What kind of woman thought of herself so highly she would dismiss the advances of the Prince of Wales, the future King?
He looked again at the women, whose eyes still sparkled with amusement. It was no wonder every man with a beating heart had wanted to court them, but how did none of them succeed? Lucian’s competitive instinct awoke. Could he manage what royalty had not?
“I know this look,” Delawney groaned. “Trust me. This is a challenge you are not up to. I too had set my mind upon marrying one of them, but better men than you or me have been turned down in an instant. So I only converse with them when I get the opportunity and leave them free of any romantic advances.”
Lucian gave his friend a sardonic grin. His mind was set; he had to see for himself. Delawney rolled his eyes, sighing at Lucian’s stubbornness. “Fine, go get your pride ripped to pieces. But, and please trust me on that, do not go for the one in pink, that is the Black Swan. Try her more sympathetic and amiable sister, Lady Ailia, the White Swan.”
Lucian nodded, even though he would most certainly go for the one in pink. Determined, he headed toward the women, taking his friend with them. “Thorne, I don’t want to witness this. Leave me be.”
“I never was introduced to them. You will have to take care of it.” Lucian wouldn’t risk his first impression on the ‘Black Swan’ to be a bad impression, so he’d do things by the rules. Delawney tried to complain, but they reached their destination before he could knock any sense into Lucian’s mind.
Standing right in front of the twins, they bowed slightly. The one in the peach dress gave them a warm smile, but Lucian only had eyes for the cold beauty in front of them. She was looking at him, her eyebrow cocked, as if she was daring him to address her. She was even more stunning from up close. Her skin was flawless, and he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume. It was sweet, with a pinch of exotic spice. Delawney cleared his throat, embarrassed.
“My ladies, I wish to introduce you to my great friend, Lucian Thorne, second son of Baron Worthington.” He stopped and looked up at Lucian, whose eyes were still on the stunning woman. “Thorne, those are Lady Ailia Langston and Lady Maeve Langston, the wards of the Duke of Leeds.”
Maeve… The name seemed both deliciously foreign and familiar. It had character, and it suited her well. Both women curtsied, and Lucian bowed once more. Behind them, the musicians stopped playing, and the dancers scattered around for refreshments as a new flock of couples went to take their places.
Bold, he extended his hand to Lady Maeve. “Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he offered, with a voice rougher than usual. He heard Delawney’s faint whimper but he ignored it.
Ever since he’d come to her, their eyes had been locked together, and he saw her pupils dilate for a short moment. She finally looked away and glared at his hand, wondering if she should accept. Lucian realized the room had strangely gotten silent, and a quick look around informed him half of the guests’ attention was on them. She noticed too, and her lips arched in a mischievous smile.
For an instant, he thought she might refuse him, to teach him a humiliating lesson, but after her long consideration, she took his hand, slipping her gloved fingers into his palm. Relieved, he guided her among the other dancers, and they took their position.
He was used to dancing with smaller women, and it always felt awkward and disproportionate, but she was tall, and for once, he had a dancer perfectly suited for him. Their gloved hands were joined, his other hand resting in the middle of her back, and hers was lightly resting on his shoulder. As soon as the musicians started, he led her on the hardwood floors, gliding and spinning in the middle of a dozen couples.
She was, of course, an excellent dancer, and their harmony was ideal. It made sense a woman of her rank would be accomplished in nearly all the requirements of their mundane world.
Every time he made her turn, he discreetly pressed her harder against him, enjoying the sensation. They danced for what seemed to be an eternity. Every time he looked down, he would get lost in the depth of her eyes, like two oceans pulling him — the kind of oceans he had only seen in paintings of warm places to the west, an ocean away. He was certain that gazing in person at the Caribbean seas wouldn’t have enticed the same emotions as those two, incredible irises in front of him.
Before he was ready to let her go, the musicians played the last notes, forcing them to end this moment they were having. He kept her in his embrace for longer than he should have, refusing to let her go. When they finally parted, Lucian couldn’t help extending his hand once more.
“Would you agree to another dance?” he asked her, hoping she longed for him as much as he longed for her. She gazed up at him, and he could see she was considering it. After a moment, she made her decision.
“Sorry, my lord, but I already have the next dance promised to someone else.” After a perfect curtsy, she moved away from him.
Lucian watched her disappear in the crowd, disappointed to see them parted so soon. Eventually, he went to find Delawney, who gave him a worried glance.
“Has the war made you colorblind? I specifically told you not to go for the one in pink.”
“Yes, I remembered. But I wanted the one in pink.”
After a moment, the musician began playing again, so he looked to see who she was dancing with. He frowned upon noticing the dark-hair beauty wasn’t among the dancers. Vexed to realize she would lie to him, he tried to find her. He spotted the woman, not far from where he’d been with Delawney, conversing with her sister. He moved to her, and as he got closer, he heard bribes of her conversation.
“Can you imagine the audacity!? A nobody! The miserable second son of a baron, daring to ask me?” she was ranting. Lucian’s jaw clenched, insulted. Oblivious to his presence, she continued with vehemence. “If a future king wasn’t good enough, he certainly isn’t. If everyone hadn’t been waiting for my response, I would have put him back in his place.”
“Careful Binak, your arrogance is showing,” the sister answered, not phased by her twin’s fit of indignation.
“At least he was a rather good dancer, I suppose. But I cannot get over his presumptuousness. Who does he think he is?”
Never had a cold shower been so swift to calm his ardors. Before the blood boiling in his veins pushed him to cause a scene, Lucian walked away from the twins with long, angered strides. He felt positively stupid for his expectations of her. After all, her exquisite exterior didn’t match whatever was inside.
He should have listened to Delawney, after all. His dignity would still be intact, and he wouldn’t be ashamed of himself for desiring such a dreadful harpy.
May their paths never cross again, or he would undoubtedly put her back in her place.
【01】Lost Friend
Only Delawney could make Lucian attend one of those shallow and noisy balls. Now that he had been to hell and back, it seemed above his strength to tolerate those idiots. He hated those empty people craving for some gratification from others, through meaningless conversations. He hated the hypocrisy, the gossip, the vain flatteries…
But with his best friend looking to get married, Lucian judged it better to be around, to make sure John wouldn’t trap himself in a dysfunctional marriage with a woman unsuited for him. He, more than anyone, knew that John needed to be protected from himself, as he had never been the best judge of character, too optimistic a person to see the bad in others.
They had known each other for over seventeen years, since meeting at boarding school. Delawney had been a frail and sickly child, while Lucian was a robust boy, always taller than the children his age. With his red hair and his fragile condition, John had quickly become the favorite scapegoat of bullies. Already then, Lucian hated injustice, so it had been his solemn duty to protect that puny boy who couldn’t defend himself.
However, He’d lost him about half an hour ago, and couldn’t seem to find him. So, instead of being in the presence of his oldest friend, he was forced to endure the company of others. And he had no interest in others, most of all Ackley, the idiot he’d been stuck with for the past ten minutes.
“So, how were Spanish women?”
Lucian glared at the man, baffled that someone could be this dense. “You must realize my stay in Spain didn’t allow any frolicking around,” Lucian answered caustically, hoping the man would drop the matter.
“But still, you must have found time to enjoy some local delicacies.”
“There’s nothing delicate about the prostitutes lurking around a military camp, Ackley. I was there for the war, not for sightseeing and leisure.”
“Well, I certainly would have made time for that ,” the imbecile insisted.
Deciding to ignore him, Lucian scanned the room, looking for his friend. He was having a hard time focusing on the task. There were too many people, too many sounds, and the man next to him just wouldn’t stop interrupting his research. It was the first time attending a mundane event like this since he had been back from Spain, about eight months prior. And he hadn’t missed it one bit. In fact, he’d much rather be at home than here.
He leaned on his cane, holding back a wince. After hours of standing up, the pain in his leg was making itself known. He stretched it discreetly and tried to find a more comfortable position.
“Ah, a battle wound?” the man asked, earning yet another glare from Lucian.
Lucian decided to answer despite his reluctance. “Yes, an unwelcome souvenir from my time fighting Napoleon’s army.” Lately, his recovery had been going quite well. He was getting better with every day, and he even had moments where his limp became imperceptible. He, alas, also had bad days, where the pain would make him consider cutting the damn leg off. According to the physicians, it was a miracle he could still stand, let alone walk.
“After all the time you spent there, you must be a lucky man for keeping all your limbs.”
No, he wasn’t lucky. Not in the slightest.
“Have you seen Delawney?” he asked Ackley, running thin on patience.
“Not in a while, no.”
That settled it, Lucian had to look in the garden. Once he’d found John, he’d tell him he was sorry but he ought to leave. This was too much for him, too fast.
Without a Word for Ackley, who was too busy eyeing a pretty blonde on the other side of the room, he walked away. Elbowing his way through the crowd was a hard task due to his cane, but he eventually reached the French doors that led to the outside.
As soon as he passed them, he felt his nerves relax. To hell with all these people.
With an ease that would have been impossible a few months ago, he stepped down the stairs, distancing himself from all the agitation. The cold air was soothing.
Until now, he hadn’t realized how overheated it had been inside. He couldn’t tell if the warmth was because of the two hundred people dancing around, or because he was feeling so uncomfortable. But now, he felt at peace with the cool brisk blowing on his face.
Looking at his surroundings, he tried to guess where he should go first to find his friend. The moon was full in the clear sky, and he could easily spot the different paths. The garden was a mix between the French and the English ones. Some spots were looked after with great rigor, trimmed and weeded with attention, and some other areas were growing more freely.
In the quiet silence of the night, he walked around the gardens enjoying how calm everything was. Only the sounds of his footsteps and his cane resonated around him. The roses were already blooming, and their scent came to his nostrils. Charmed by the delicacy of the perfume, he picked one and brought it to his nose. He’d secluded himself for so long that he’d forgotten such smells existed. The only ones he could never forget were the stenches of blood and guts.
Remembering he was supposed to find Delawney, Lucian looked around. The gardens were so vast, it was hard to imagine he was in the middle of London.
Lucian was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard whispers; a man and a woman, giggling. It was common in this kind of party that a couple would look for some privacy, and he wondered if his friend had succumbed to the temptation. He listened carefully, but the voice wasn’t Delawney’s. Leaving the illicit couple behind him, he continued his walk in the garden.
He reached an impasse and was about to turn around when he noticed a small path, almost covered by plants. Further along the way, behind the trees, he noticed a splash of yellow.
His curiosity piqued, he decided to identify what it was. Once he reached a small area clear of trees, with a stone bench in the middle, Lucian found his answer. Sitting there was a woman in a yellow dress, gazing at the moon.
She was facing away from him, but from what he could see, she seemed young, probably attending this ball in search of a husband. Her dress was of fine quality, and her hair was styled to perfection. He admired for an instant the graceful curve of her long neck, then realized she was probably waiting for someone.
Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Lucian decided to go before she could notice him. Or at least, he tried. As he turned around, his cane knocked on a trunk, signaling his presence to the lady.
“Who’s there?” came her feminine voice from behind him.
Irritated by his clumsiness, he turned again to apologize to the woman. Startled, she was standing in front of her bench, staring at him.
He recognized her immediately.
He didn’t even have to look for the small scar, on her left cheek, to know which one of the twins she was. Before him was Lady Maeve Langston, the Duke of Leeds’ ward.
A woman as beautiful as she was malicious.
The Black Swan.
The ridiculous ‘Swan Sisters’ nickname had been given to them during their first Season, inspired by their beauty, elegance, and grace. They carried themselves like queens, had irreproachable manners, and had come into society as the most perfect wives any man could win. Every eligible bachelor had tried to win the Swan Sisters over. From young sons of dukes to decaying widowed earls, everyone had, at some point, tried to win their hearts. He had even given it a shot himself.
Bloody hell… Even being back inside with the moronic Lord Ackley would be better than this.
Her eyes on him were inquisitive, and he could tell she recognized him to some extent. But did she remember the circumstances of their encounters, three years ago? Would she remember that he was a nobody, and then treat him like a pest? As her eyes lowered to his cane, he wondered if she’d make a comment about this as well.
Part of him hoped she would. Now that they were alone with no one to interrupt, he wouldn’t hesitate to teach her the lesson she desperately needed.
Opting for diplomacy, he ignored the bitter taste that had spread in his mouth and bowed his head. “Pardon me, my lady, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
But instead of turning around and leaving her, he observed her for another moment, unable to look away. In the pale glow of the moon, she resembled a mythical creature, too perfect to be entirely human. Even with the faint light, he could tell her eyes were a splendid shade of blue.
“Is this for me?” she asked, eyeing his other hand.
Lucian looked down and remembered he was carrying a flower. The idea that she thought he came to her bearing gifts was revolting. “Certainly not,” he answered with animosity.
The blunt answer seemed to shock her, as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open for a brief instant. “As the ‘miserable second son of a baron’,” he explained, “I would never impose that kind of attention on a woman of your rank.”
“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” she wondered, confusion twisting her delicate eyebrows.
He let out a mirthless chuckle, already exasperated even though they’d barely exchanged. While their encounter had haunted him for three years, she’d forgotten about it. He came closer to her, Enjoying the way she flinched. While he’d never hurt her, an unbreakable principle of his, seeing her lose some of her assurance pleased him.
“Well, it came out of your mouth,” he reminded her. “But I imagine you’ve made too many nasty remarks in the past to remember them all.”
This time a faint gasp came out of her lips. Her hand rose to her chest, the perfect image of innocence. But he knew better. “How dare you speak to me this way?”
“I’m only returning the favor, my lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I can think of a hundred places I’d rather be.”
“I demand an apology.”
Another mirthless chuckle. “Well, apologize first, and then I will.”
“I have done nothing wrong, my lord, while you have been impossibly rude.”
“So I gather you don’t even realize how much of a cruel brat you can be.” Indignation dances behind her light irises, the promise of a fight to come.
“I’m aware of my temperament, but I do not recall acting in such a manner the one time we met, three years ago.”
“So you do remember some of it.”
“Of course, I do. But I never insulted you the way you insulted me just now.”
It was true she hadn’t insulted him as directly as he’d done her, but the fact remained the same. And, in all honesty, her words had been much harsher than his. Lucian stared at the vain beauty, her skin almost translucent in the pale light of the moon. Years had passed, but the memory of their encounter still made him feel humiliated.
“Not to my face, no,” he admitted, still resentful.
She pinched her lips, miffed. They glared at one another for several seconds, standing barely a step from one another. He noted she was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but he knew better not to be fooled by the lovely wrapping. Inside, she was rotten. An owl’s chant brought him back to reality.
“We shared one mediocre dance years ago, get over it,” she said venomously.
“I recall you saying I was a rather good dancer, actually.”
“I was being polite.”
“There was nothing polite about your words, my lady. You were being a heinous bitch.”
Her jaw dropped again, surely not used to such language. But she wasn’t on the verge of tears or about to flee. No, she was filled with rage and anger, and it was clear that the matter was nowhere near settled.
He moved closer to her and was about to tell what he thought of her when he heard a noise behind him.
“Ah!” Delawney exclaimed. “There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere. We are about to deal some cards, do you want to—” John immediately stopped when he saw the lady behind Lucian.
“My lady! My apologies, I hadn’t seen you there.” He gave Lucian a strange look, not understanding what he had interrupted.
“Lady Langston and I were conversing,” Lucian explained.
“Yes, we were. I was just about to tell the gentleman I couldn’t remember his name for the life of me.”
“The name is Thorne, my lady,” Delawney kindly reminded her.
“Yes! That was it. Lucian Thorne .” She paused and moved toward the small path. “My lord, Mr. Delawney,” she saluted them before leaving, glaring at him with haughtiness one last time.
Lucian watched her disappear in the vegetation, her slender silhouette disappearing into the night. The resentment he had for her grew even stronger when she was finally out of his sight, her yellow dress impossible to spot. Then he realized.
Lucian …
She had remembered his name.
Not noticing he was troubled, Delawney guided him back to the house, eager to start on that game of whist.
【02】Green-eyed Scoundrel
On her way back to the ball, Maeve scolded herself for her stupidity. Being isolated in the middle of an event such as this one was risky, and had she not exited the ballroom to get some air, she never would have encountered that rude bastard.
But as always when she was surrounded by too many people, she’d been feeling light-headed and oppressed, in need of some time alone to get better. She already knew that once she’d be in her bed, she’d sleep for twelve hours to make up for the exhaustion this evening would cause.
So, she’d slipped away from her distracted chaperone and had found a suitable place to recuperate. Sitting there on the stone bench, she’d pondered with her eyes on the moon, reflecting on Ailia’s betrayal and why it still felt so fresh, as if it had happened the day before and not months ago.
Then, he had interrupted her quiet thoughts, before acting like a pompous arse.
She’d recognized him right away, despite the scar now adorning his face and the cane. Such a man needing a cane to walk felt wrong, and she wondered if it was a necessity or a fashion choice. Tall and imposing, he looked nothing like the other guests from the party, his body visibly strong and powerful. Anyone else in there was either lean or overweight, but this man was… powerful.
Already then, when they’d first met, he’d been nothing like the others with his military uniform and tallness. And now, with the large scar on his face, he looked like a pirate or a bandit, not a nobleman. It started on his forehead, ran through his eyebrow, only to stop abruptly. Then, it resumed high on his cheekbone, to finish in the middle of his cheek. It should have looked glum or creepy, but for some reason, the scar suited him.
But then he’d opened his mouth, and everything had gone downhill from there. Thankfully, Delawney had arrived just in time. A few seconds later and she would have snapped him in half. Not physically, as she didn’t have the upper hand on this one, but she had made some men cry in the past, so she would have tried that instead.
For the first time in her life, she felt relieved to enter a crowded room. In there, she wouldn’t have to endure more of Lucian Thorne’s presence.
Done with this evening — which she hadn’t wanted to attend in the first place — she sought her chaperone, hoping she could negotiate for them to go home early. Ailia wouldn’t be happy about it, but she should be glad they even came at all. As soon as she located Lady Cranston thanks to her black dress, Maeve walked her way with hasty steps.
“Oh, there you are, dear,” the widow welcomed her. There was no trace of worry nor relief on her face, so Maeve wondered if she’d even realized that one of her wards for the night had been missing for over half an hour. “Ailia’s fiancé wishes to play cards with a few gentlemen, and your sister would like to attend in a show of support. We need to go to the grand parlor.”
Maeve scrunched her nose, pinching her lips together. It seemed her chaperone’s mind was made up, and there would be no changing it before a moment. So, instead of arguing, she followed the matriarch out of the ballroom. Once they entered a parlor where a few people had already gathered, Maeve instantly spotted her twin. But as soon as their gazes met, she averted her eyes and stared at a curtain instead.
Ever since her sister had decided to spend the rest of her life with Lord Everson, things had changed between them. Maeve’s grudge was lingering, hovering in her head, and she couldn’t let it go. For the first time of their lives, they were sleeping in separate rooms. It had been four months now, and still, Maeve would still wake up in the middle of the night, seeking her sister to be comforted after a bad dream.
How could that nitwit have fallen in love? Why would she choose an uncertain life at a man’s side, rather than what was planned all along?
They had agreed, since they were ten years old, that they would grow old together, in a small estate owned by their father, in Dorset, near the coast. It was a lovely house where her family used to spend lovely vacations together. The house was full of great memories, and she knew they would have been happy there.
To ensure that it would happen, they had made an unbreakable pact, even. She remembered vividly how they had carefully cut open the tips of their thumbs, to swear on it with their blood. Maybe if there hadn’t been that stupid blood pact, she would have had normal Seasons, wouldn’t have chased away every single bachelor in the kingdom, and she would have found the perfect husband.
Not that such a thing existed…
As if to prove things could always get worse, two newcomers entered the room. From the corner of her eye, Maeve figured out who it was in an instant. Not because of the red hair of one of them, but because of the imposing build of the other one. While she’d avoided Ailia’s gaze, she maintained Thorne’s spiteful glare.
With the dim light outside, she couldn’t guess the color of his eyes, but somehow, she’d known it. And seeing him now confirmed it. His eyes were a shade of deep, mossy green. Green eyes that had haunted her for days.
She had never had a hard time sending men on their way. Most gentlemen respected her decisions, fearing the repercussions if her father heard of their poor behavior. But she remembered that this particular man didn’t seem to fear anything. He had invited her to dance, and she’d reluctantly accepted. They had shared a waltz.
Maeve was taller than average, and she was at the same level as most men. It had been hard on her and Ailia. Ladies had to look petite and fragile, they had to make men want to protect and cherish them. It was hard to entail such feelings when one has to look down on one man out of two.
When she had danced with Lucian Thorne, she had felt small for the first time of her adult life.
He’d asked her for another dance, and she’d refused. She had a rule to never dance twice with the same man. She wouldn’t lead them on, knowing she was never to marry.
To her delight, he looked away first, distracted by Delawney who asked him something. When Ackley, that misogynistic cockroach joined them and tapped on Thorne’s shoulder like an old friend, she couldn’t hold back a roll of her eyes. Of course a man like Thorne would associate himself with one like Ackley. Both were bellends with nothing but air between their ears.
Standing at a reasonable distance from everyone, she watched as the two groups of men discussed together. It seemed that instead of a whist, they would indulge in a poker, since there were six of them wanting to play. Ailia’s fiancé was already seated by the large table, so Maeve’s sister was by them, talking with another lady. Maeve scanned the room, in search of a distraction, but unless she was ready to forgive her sister or act interested in Lady Cranston’s stories, she had nothing to help time go by faster.
So, deprived of anything suitable, her eyes landed on the green-eyed scoundrel who’d insulted her earlier. He had impressive features, and he reminded her of a Greek statue. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high. In between, his cheeks were slightly sucked in, underlining his alluring bone structure, rendering his lower face even more strikingly appealing. His nose had been broken and wasn’t as straight as it used to be. He had brown, straight hair, shorter than what fashion required. Some strands were falling off his brow, and under those strands, two thick, dark eyebrows topped his narrowed eyes that were staring at her.
Suddenly aware that she was staring and that he’d noticed, she looked to the side, despising the way she sensed her cheeks heat up. It was unfair that the man should look so alluring, especially with his scar. He didn’t deserve to; not when he was so vile inside.
The game finally started, so his attention was drawn to it instead of her. Knowing he would be looking at the cards, she observed her surroundings again. There was a clock on the mantle, and she moved closer to it to read the time there. It was barely ten in the evening. They usually stayed until one in the morning, if not two. But Maeve didn’t have the strength nor patience for that. Thirty minutes. Thirty more minutes, and she’d invent a headache and ask for them to go home.
She mindlessly strolled around the room, passing behind the players to examine their cards, gauging their chances. While she loved playing at home with her family, she never indulged during parties. It required interacting with strangers, and she avoided this whenever she could.
Which was why when a man came her way, a young lord a few years older than her, she sent him a disdainful glance. She’d rebuked him a few times in the past, but the man was tenacious. All because of the damned bet going on.
“Lady Maeve, would you—”
“No,” she cut him dryly.
“But I—”
“I said no, my lord. I have a headache and am not in the mood for whatever you might ask of me.”
“I was just—”
“Listen, I’ve already been kissed, as you may recall, and if you truly believe you could get any further than that with me, you are more of a fool than I thought.”
Her voice had carried further than she’d expected in the otherwise silent room, and when she turned away from the intruder, she noticed that most people present were looking their way. Including her sister, but most importantly, Lucian Thorne. Well, he could probably think her to be even more of a harpy, now, and she was relatively fine with it. She wasn’t to be meddled with, and for more than just her father’s influence.
Her attention remained on him as the other man left her alone, muttering harsh words under his breath. Among them, she recognized ‘bitch’, but it had been a long time since such insults had offended her. Actually, no. When Thorne said it earlier, calling her a heinous bitch, it had stung.
If the whole thing had been an amusing game in the beginning, fending off suitors, refusing their attentions, ignoring their pleas… both sisters were over it by their second Season. Ailia had always been more patient and had managed to keep her nice facade, but Maeve was warm-blooded, like their mother, and she had become callous over time. By their third Season, men knew better than to try and make a pass at Lady Maeve Langston.
Which was why she had become the Black Swan, while her sister was nicknamed the White Swan.
The fact that her twin had stayed so pleasant was probably why things had turned wrong, so close to being done with all this nonsense. This was supposed to have been their last year, and they would finally have been able to go live their life of freedom.
Resuming her stroll around the room, she circled the table. It seemed Delawney and Thorne two men were quite close, and while she was familiar with the former, she had no idea what his history with the latter was.
She observed silently for a moment, sensing his eyes on her every now and then. But she ignored him, turning around the players as the game processed. They were in the midst of their fourth round, and after a few more cards were drawn, everyone but three had folded. The remaining contenders were Thorne, Everson, and another gentleman she couldn’t remember the name of.
Per usual, Ailia’s fiancé was losing, not very good at bluffing or reading people. With a pair of four, he wouldn’t win this hand. She’d seen Thorne’s cards while passing behind him, and with his two and his jack, he had two pairs — meaning he would likely win this round and all the chips gathered in the middle of the table. It was his turn to speak, and he was hesitating, staring with intensity at his opponent.
Strategically standing behind the third contender, Maeve waited for him to lift his cards, curious to see who would win. Just as the man did, revealing a queen and a ten, the best hand of them all, she sensed Thorne’s eyes on her. With her gaze firmly set on the man’s cards, she grimaced slightly, hoping the asshole would fall for it. If he believed that his opponent had nothing, he wouldn’t fold and would lose this round.
Maybe she shouldn’t have let her pettiness win over, but he deserved it after the way he’d treated her. It was nearly impossible for her to hold back her victorious smile when Thorne let out a grave “All in,” sliding the rest of his chips to the middle of the table.
Alas, her plan backfired, as the third contender took Thorne’s unshaking assurance as proof he had a better hand. The coward folded, leaving the other two to finish this round. Everson revealed his card first, showing his unimportant pair of four, and Thorne then showed his cards, which paired up with the jack and the two already on the table.
Upon seeing them, the man who’d just folded cursed, throwing his winning hand across the table. Had her plan worked, had he called Thorne’s raise, he would have won this round.
Thorne noticed that the man’s cards were excellent, and after a quick instant of calculations, he looked up to meet her eyes, his inner workings impossible for her to guess. Disappointed that her attempt had failed, she offered him a caustic smile, full of falseness and sarcasm, which he answered with daggers he threw with his green glare.
The other men distracted him, cheering for his victory, and she walked up to her chaperone, officially done with the evening. She’d respected her end of the bargain, now was time to go home.
【03】Sulking Lady
Maeve was slowly walking to her room in their London terrasse, and as she passed the library, she saw a ray of light under the door. She opened it, curious to see who was still up at this late hour. She smiled when she saw her father, the prestigious Duke of Leeds, half lying on the couch, reading the papers, a glass of whisky on the table next to him.
When he saw her, he quickly removed his reading glasses and slipped them into the pocket of his waistcoat. She smiled and his reluctance to be seen as an old man. He had recently turned fifty, and he was still not accepting the fact he was already half a century old.
She looked at him and had to agree the man didn’t look his age. Apart from the white strands at his temples, barely distinguishable in his blond hair, and the lines that had deepened in the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, professing a life filled with laughter, her father was the same as the day she’d met him.
He still had a good figure and had barely thickened up. The duke remained the dashing he’d been in his youth, and very much to her mother’s taste, it seemed. With a wave of tenderness spreading through her heart, she looked at his cold blue eyes, so much like hers.
If anyone had been the slightest bit observant, they would have noticed how the two adoptive daughters of the Duke of Leeds, his wards, looked strangely like him — the color of their eyes, their strong jaws, and their tall frames. The simple explanation was they were, in fact, his natural daughters.
Her parents had been through a disastrous beginning, but from the moment they had gotten married, after being separated for nearly six years, everything had been perfect. However, with two daughters born out of the sacred bonds of marriage, they had preferred to hide it. For almost twenty years now, they had pretended that Amalia, their mother, had been a Spanish widow, with two orphaned daughters in her charge.
The whole thing seemed a bit excessive now, but it had been the best way to shelter everyone at the time. It was an actual miracle the secret had never been revealed.
Moving further into the room, Maeve went to her father.
“Evening, Papa,” she said, sitting next to him. He put his paper down and opened his arms instead. She gladly accepted the invitation and laid down, her head on his chest as he closed his arms around her to hug her.
“How was it, darling?” he asked.
“Boring. I cannot wait for this nonsense to be over with, I can’t bear all those balls and receptions.”
When she and her sister had told their parents that they never wanted to marry and spend the rest of their lives together, the duke and the duchess had agreed. Although, to save the appearances, they had set a condition. Maeve and her sister would have to endure six Seasons, with one social outing per week. This had been her weekly chore, and she now had seven days of freedom before her.
“You still want to go live in Dorset?” She could feel that he tensed imperceptibly under her, so his detached tone didn’t fool her. Despite Ailia’s change of heart, Maeve was stubborn, and she wanted to believe she could still carry on with her dreams of freedom. Even alone, she knew she would be quite happy in that house by the sea.
“Absolutely. Although, now that Ailia isn’t coming, it might get boring. May I come to visit sometimes?”
“Of course, darling,” he agreed, kissing her head. “But we won’t always be there to keep you company, you know.” She tightened her hold on him.
“Of course you will. I forbid you to die.” He laughed, making her shake over his chest, amused by her determination. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was searching for something to say.
“Your mother and I have been talking. She worries for you. She wants you to have what we have. A loving spouse, children, a family…”
“It’s too late for me, I’m a hateful spinster, remember? And I can’t imagine I’d find a decent man regardless. I’ve grown up watching you and Mother, so I couldn’t possibly settle for anything less than perfection.”
“What do you mean?”
“After almost twenty years of marriage, you two are still ridiculously infatuated with one another. Such love normally doesn’t exist, and I’m not foolish enough to think I could get this lucky. I don’t need an unsuited husband to come and ruin my life.”
Her father laughed under her, amused by her take on the situation. “With love, you never know, darling. It’s worth givin it a try, in my opinion.”
“If I was made for love and family, I think I would know it by now.”
“That’s fine by me,” he said, possessive. “Every time I see Everson, I want to punch him in the face.”
Maeve giggled, recognizing the overprotective man she’d loved most of her life. “I thought you liked Ailia’s fiancé.”
“Yes, because he’s an associate. But the fact he and my little girl will…” He stopped, unable to even say the words.
Ailia had met her fiancé in December the previous year. Thomas Everson, Viscount Hampden, was a good-looking, decent man, from a respectable family. In January, after barely a month of courtship, they had announced their engagement and were set to marry this summer, on the twelfth of August.
“We aren’t little girls anymore,” Maeve noted, amused by her father’s revelation. He held her tighter, refusing to see reason.
“You will always be my little girls, no matter what happens. Until the day I die, you will be my princesses.”
“No. Ailia is going to lower to becoming a viscountess, and I will remain your princess.”
Her father laughed at her pettiness but quickly became serious again. “Your mother also doesn’t like seeing the two of you like this, and I have to agree with her on that. When are you going to forgive Ailia?”
“I don’t know. We had an agreement, and she broke it. And for this stupid Thomas Everson.”
“Some things are stronger than a pact made between two children, darling.” She could hear her father was carefully choosing each of his words.
“Not a blood pact,” she retorted, and it made him smile.
“You will understand one day, when you fall in love.”
“I won’t,” she insisted, as stubborn as ever. “I love you, mom, and the rest of the family. That is enough love for me.”
She stayed like this for a moment, in her father’s reassuring embrace, until a small, shaky voice came from the door. “Daddy?” it called.
They lifted themselves, and Maeve saw Rose, her youngest sibling, standing at the door in her nightgown, holding her stuffed elephant by the trunk.
“What is it, little dove?” Aiden asked, going to pick up his scared daughter. “You had another nightmare?” he asked, holding her against him. Rose nodded, and her father hugged her tighter.
Maeve looked at the scene, and she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. What she would give to go twenty years back and start all over. Aiden had been the most perfect father anyone could have asked for, and he obviously still had a few years of parenting in front of him, as Rose wasn’t even four.
Seeing little Rosie like this made Maeve think of her siblings with fondness. The closest after her and Ailia was Cameron, their seventeen years old blockhead of a brother. Then came Manning, who had just turned fifteen and was at boarding school, along with their older brother. Then Ophelia and William, who were Irish twins, born eleven months apart, Ophelia was eleven, William ten. And then Rose, who had been the little surprise, born over six years after William.
With a total of seven children, Maeve had grown up seeing her mother either pregnant or with a child on her hip. Although it had been the great joy of both her parents, the idea of spending her best years laying babies and taking care of them had always revolted Maeve.
While she looked at her father, who sat down with Rose in his arms where they had been moments ago, Maeve felt nostalgic. As he’d said, she would always be her father’s princess, but he had other princesses who needed him now. She bent to kiss him on the forehead, brushed her sister’s pale blonde hair, and left the library to head to her empty bedroom.
When she arrived, her maid was waiting for her, soundly sleeping in a chair. Her dress was too sophisticated to be removed alone, so she gently patted her maid’s shoulder. The woman woke up instantly, confused to have been caught sleeping.
“Oh! Forgive me, my lady, I fell asleep waiting for your return.”
“It is all right, Betsie,” Maeve reassured her with a genuine smile.
The maid quickly got to work, unfastening and unhooking at an impressive pace. “How was your evening?” Betsie asked with keen interest.
“As dull as ever.”
Betsie had been with her for over ten years now. The maid was five years older than Maeve, and she had become some sort of a confidant to her. She trusted her with her secrets. Feeling the need to talk about her odd encounter, she added, “Except for a dark and mysterious green-eyed giant.”
Betsie’s hands stopped mid-air as she was removing pins from her head. “Was it the same one, my lady?” she asked, a smile on her face.
Maeve frowned, disconcerted by the question. “Which one?”
“Don’t you remember? Two years ago. No, it was the one before that. One evening you came back and told me about a tall and handsome man, with dark brown hair and green eyes. I remember because you never talk about men like that. Oh, what was the name? I remember it sounded like Lucifer.”
“Lucian.”
“Yes! Oh, you ranted for weeks about him,” Betsie recalled, removing more pins. “That he would dance with you like this, and then nothing at all.”
As her maid was speaking, Maeve’s memory came back to her. After their dance at that ball, she had crossed him at other events, and she had been disappointed by his lack of interest in her. She had always enjoyed a good challenge, and when she’d first seen him, Lucian Thorne promised to be one. However, in the weeks that had followed, he had entirely ignored her. Before she could do anything about it, he was gone, back to the war down south.
“So?” insisted Betsie. “Was it the same man?”
“No,” Maeve lied, not wanting for the maid to read into things. So what if the same man, years apart, had managed to trouble her so profoundly?
It meant nothing other than she might have a thing for men with intense green eyes and a tall, strong build.
【04】Early Garden Party
The next time Lucian saw her was about two weeks later, on the first day of May, at a garden party. He was there, once more, on behalf of Delawney and his search for a wife. It was a clear afternoon, and they were in a lovely estate one hour out of London. It was a small castle with very well-kept gardens, ornamented with fountains, benches, and even a beautiful hedge maze.
It felt good for Lucian to be out of the city. He had missed the fresh air, and he felt like he could finally breathe. Garden parties were some of the few mundane events he could enjoy. He felt more comfortable in the open. The noise was less omnipresent, and he could at any moment go for a walk, isolating himself. He had to admit he was enjoying this one in particular.
In two weeks of accompanying Delawney around, he had reconnected with old acquaintances. A few of them were here, and he appreciated talking to them and catching up with their lives. He was the subject of many questions regarding the war against the French Empire. He had been posted in Spain, in order to protect Portugal from the invaders, and he had many stories to recount.
Everything was going splendidly until she arrived.
Delawney was telling them of his misadventure with a malicious duck when someone from their group noticed the newcomers.
The Duke of Leeds and his family had graced the event with their presence. They were exiting the castle and were walking to join the crowd gathered on the grass. Everybody’s attention in Lucian’s little group was instantly drawn to them. The duke was walking ahead, with his wife at his arm. Behind them, Lady Maeve and Lady Ailia, then two younger children, and a much younger one, accompanied by a nanny.
He watched as the elegant family moved toward them. The duke must have been quite the heartbreaker back in his days, and his wife was lovely. In spite of all the pregnancies she’d been subjected to, she still had a graceful figure. The Swan Sisters were walking side by side, as elegant as ever, and the two younger ones were arguing about something.
The family passed them by, and the duke touched the edge of his hat to salute Lucian’s group. All his friends did the same, but Lucian was too focused on the cold, haughty look Lady Maeve gave him. The group watched until the family was out of hearing distance.
“So,” one of the men asked, “how much is it these days?”
Lucian frowned, not grasping what this was about. Understanding his confusion, Delawney filled him in. “When the Swan Sisters first came out, some gentlemen started to bet on various scenarios regarding the twins.”
“Such as?” Lucian asked, dubious.
“Well, for each sister, there was a pool, and the first to kiss her would get ten percent of whatever it was. And… Well, the first one who would know her in the biblical way, if it occurred out of the wedding bounds, would get fifty percent. The one who would marry her would get the entirety of it,” Delawney explained, having the decency to seem embarrassed about it.
“Not much was claimed,” added Waverly, a young vscount.
“I had the Black Swan’s kiss,” Ackley, the heir of an earl, bragged. For some reason, Lucian had the sudden urge to make him swallow his stupid grin.
“If I remember well, you also earned a resounding slap,” Waverly commented with a mocking chuckle. It was Lucian’s turn to smile as Ackley’s smirk disappeared.
“So, how much?” demanded the insulted man.
“Well, Everson says he won’t claim his gains, so I imagine everything will be transferred on the remaining sister. I think it is around three thousand and three hundred pounds by now.”
Lucian almost choked on his drink. “Over three thousand pounds!?” he erupted.
“Yes, the gains have been piling up for approximately six years now,” Delawney explained, justifying the absurd number.
“It is still too low a price for a lifetime spent at the side of this wench,” Ackley felt compelled to point out.
“Nothing can make up for a life in the bed of a frigid wife,” Waverly added.
The men laughed, and Lucian looked at the retreated silhouette of Lady Langston. She was sitting alone on a bench, a book in her hand while her family was scattered around the garden, mingling with the other guests. Even if she had a horrible personality, making her a public joke seemed wrong.
“I, for one, wouldn’t claim my gains either, if I were to marry Lady Maeve Langston,” said Delawney, forever the white knight. The men looked at him, skeptical, and Lucian knew it wasn’t about not claiming the money, but rather about Lady Langston ever accepting to marry him.
The subject then changed, but Lucian remained aware of the young woman’s presence. He still didn’t understand how she had remembered his name. She was constantly surrounded by people, danced with dozens of men every week, but three years later, she still recalled his name. He must have really made an impression on her that night, with his appalling audacity.
A buffet was set by the castle’s domestics, and the guests moved to enjoy the snacks arranged on the tables. Leaning on his cane to relieve his bad leg, Lucian followed them and filled his plate with ridiculously small canapes and sandwiches.
Once his plate was full, he looked around, looking for a place where he could settle down. It was complicated for him to both stand and eat, because of his capricious knee, so he searched for a bench to sit on. Now that people were eating, the few benches were all taken. The only room left was next to Lady Langston, who was absorbed by her book.
Groaning a curse, he hesitated. He could, after all, try to eat standing, but the embarrassment, should his plate end on the ground, would surpass the discomfort of sitting next to the Black Swan. She seemed so captivated by her reading, she might not even notice his presence.
Deciding the bench was the lesser of two evils, he went there and sat. As he’d suspected, she didn’t even lift her head from the pages. He put his cane between them and ate quietly, hoping he could be done by the time she took notice of him. After a moment, he realized she had, in fact, noticed his presence. Every now and then, he could see her eyes peering toward him.
At first, he thought she was interested in the content of his plate, but he then understood she was eyeing his cane and his leg.
“A shard of metal,” he suddenly informed her, guessing what she had in mind.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, looking up from the book, pretending not to know what he was talking about.
“My leg. A cannonball hit a carriage near me, and I received a large fragment of a metal plate, near my knee.” She nodded, as if barely interested, and resumed her reading. She stayed like this for a moment, while Lucian kept eating.
“Did it hurt?” she eventually asked, not looking up from her novel. She was trying to look indifferent when the subject visibly interested her. This is ridiculous , he thought to himself.
“It did, yes,” he answered nevertheless. “Most of it was embedded in my horse’s side, but I was touched severely enough to still suffer from it.” A moment passed, and she said nothing. He wondered if she was going to pretend it didn’t interest her again.
“Poor horse,” she finally let out, her eyes still on the pages. Lucian was both amused and vexed, struggling to quench the incredulous laugh that threatened to come out. That little shrew…
They stayed quiet from then on, and Lucian finished his plate in peace. He was about to stand up when Delawney came to them.
“Well! I keep finding the two of you together, it seems,” he noted, amused. Lady Langston gave him a stoic glance, and Lucian was reminded that tact wasn’t John’s forte.
“I was here for the bench,” Lucian coldly explained.
“Yes, yes,” Delawney dismissed, not convinced. “We are going to start a game of croquet. Would you like to join us?”
“Yes, why not,” Lucian agreed, getting up. Croquet was one of the few things he could still do with agility. Delawney hesitated for an instant and turned to the woman who was ignoring them, still reading.
“Would you care to join us, Lady Langston?” he offered. She looked at him, almost surprised. She considered the question, then looked at Lucian. Almost reluctantly, she closed her book with a dry ‘thump’ and set it aside to join them. Holding back his annoyance, Lucian clenched his teeth, wondering why must he endure more of her presence.
All three went to an area where hoops had been settled in the grass. Three gentlemen and four ladies were waiting for them. It was agreed they would pair up, one man and one woman per team. Three couples were already prepared, and a pretty blonde quickly came to Lucian. Delawney teamed up with Lady Langston, and they started the game.
For the first time in a while, Lucian was feeling rather normal while among his peers. He had discarded his cane since he could lean on his mallet when needed. He had to admit his leg was hurting less and less, and he had the hope that by July, he would be rid of the cumbersome accessory entirely.
The fact that he was, for once, able to properly practice an activity with others, was spoiled by the incompetence of his partner. The young Lady Durham was unable to focus for more than three consecutive seconds, and they were losing by a long shot.
The winning team was John and Lady Langston, and Lucian was surprised to see that his friend — usually so shy and reserved when it came to members of the fair sex — was getting along very well with the intimidating beauty. Now and then, he would quip about something, and to everyone’s astonishment, he managed several times to make her chuckle. While the rest of the group shared a common conversation, the winning team was having their very own.
Lady Langston had, at first, been tense and uneasy, but she was now relaxed and evolving comfortably around the other players. Although contrary to Lady Durham, she was able to focus, and she always landed her shots.
Lucian could see the look on his old friend’s face. The man was positively smitten with his partner, and it meant nothing good. If John somehow ended up married to Maeve Langston, he would spend the rest of his life being walked on by the harpy. Lucian loved his dear friend too much to let it happen.
The game finally ended, with a victory for Delawney and the Black Swan, while Lucian and his partner had barely reached the first half of the round. The ladies excused themselves to get refreshments, and Lucian went to his friend.
The red-headed fool was looking at the retreating silhouette of Maeve Langston, a dreamy smile on his face. Lucian couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I thought you only conversed with the Swan Sisters and left them alone,” he noted with sarcasm.
Delawney turned to him, startled. “Many things can change in three years,” he defended himself. “And I cannot help it if I have eyes.”
“I know you, John. Trust me, she isn’t for you.”
“And since when are you such an expert?” he answered, offended. “You have met her for the best part of ten minutes, at most, and you think you know her? I have known her for years, and I can safely say I am one of the few men she tolerates.” He paused, looking at the woman from afar. “If anyone has a chance with her, it is me.”
Lucian frowned. He had underestimated his friend’s interest in the woman. Had he seriously been thinking about this? About courting her? Marrying her? It would be a disaster. But Delawney was evidently too blinded to see it. He was kind and gentle, while she was ruthless and cold. The match couldn’t have been worse.
“She is not fit for you,” Lucian insisted. John frowned and looked up at him, insulted.
“Why, because an average man like me deserves an average woman, with an average beauty, and an average family?”
Lucian let out a frustrated sigh. It was clear to everyone a woman of her caliber wasn’t fit for simple mortals like them. Hell, even a prince wasn’t enough. Why couldn’t Delawney understand that?
Before he could add anything, the ladies came back. Lucian glared at the source of the problem, unable to ignore the acrimony in her blue eyes when they met his green ones.
【05】Twisted Maze
Maeve was having a great time, which would have seemed impossible an hour earlier.
When they had arrived at the garden party with her family, she had expected to spend a dreary afternoon, waiting for her family to be done with their mingling. She had even taken a book to help pass the time.
When she had seen Lucian Thorne, whom she had learned had recently become Baron Worthington, she had thought the event would turn out to be even worse.
When he’d sat next to her, she had pretended for as long as possible not to have noticed him, even if she’d seen come from ten yards. Anything to avoid talking to this rude, annoying man. However, he had talked to her, and she had been obligated to answer. He’d told her about his wound, and although she was exceedingly curious about matters of war, she had feigned lack of interest, as to avoid compelling him to talk to her more.
Since then, thanks to Delawney, she had been enjoying herself.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any friends — she had a few — but she never had occasions to enjoy mundane divertissement like this. It was a nice change to be able to play croquet with people other than members of her family, as she usually did.
She was well acquainted with Delawney. They had met on multiple occasions over the years, and it was always nice to talk to him. The discussion was always interesting, as he was well educated in many subjects. Not that they often exchanged deep conversations. Though, she had to admit what she enjoyed the most about him, was he had never been flirtatious. He seemed to have, in fact, no interest in her as a woman, and it was a refreshing change.
For the first time, though, she was discovering the silly side of him, and his humor was very much to her taste. With a few well-chosen words, he was able to make fun of a situation, without ever being mean. Like that poor Lady Durham who seemed positively charmed by Lord Worthington, who was oblivious to her affections. The poor thing had trouble focusing, and her game was terrible. The worst she got, the more Lord Worthington would hover over her, troubling her more, making her fail harder. It was a vicious circle, and, although Worthington was trying to remain calm, he could barely hide his frustration. Poor Lady Durham seemed on the verge of breaking into tears.
“This is what happens when you spend six years away from women. You forget how to decipher them,” Delawney said to her in a low voice. “Not that any of us could pretend to fully understand the complexity of a woman’s mind,” he added, with a smile.
Maeve chuckled low, amused by how he saw women. “I guess my gender should hand you our very own Rosetta stone.”
Delawney’s eyes sparkled with interest. “You have heard of the Rosetta stone?”
“More than heard about it,” Maeve confessed. “I have read everything I could, and I have seen it at the museum. Thrice now.” They talked for a moment about Egypt and its fascinating history, focusing back now and then on the game.
They won, and she was very pleased about it, as she was very competitive. After a short celebration with her partner, she followed the ladies to get a drink, knowing she shouldn’t linger and be found alone with a group of men.
When they came back, Delawney seemed to be upset about something, but she quickly dismissed it, as the men announced they had found a new game for them to play.
They all moved to the massive labyrinth while the rules were explained. The women would go in and have three minutes to get as lost as possible inside of it. Then, the men would have to go in, find their lost partner, and find their way out of the maze. The last couple out would be the losers, and the first ones out would choose which forfeit they would have to pay.
Maeve raised her eyebrow, finding the whole concept demeaning. Women had to be the useless damsels in distress, so the men could flatter their egos and become their heroic saviors. It was even more shocking they would be isolated, which didn’t comply with the rules of chaperoning. However, she didn’t dare to complain, as the other ladies seemed thrilled by the game.
They reached the entrance, a large, white arch, with very detailed Corinthian columns. Reluctantly, Maeve took her position next to the other women, and when someone gave the signal, she walked in, while the others rushed inside as if chased by the devil himself. She rolled her eyes at their giggles, and found her way to the heart of the maze, taking random turns.
With her hand out, she let the inside of her palm graze the perfectly trimmed junipers. For the first time since she’d arrived, she felt truly alone, and it allowed her to appease her nerves. That was until she was startled when Lady Durham nearly bumped into her at a turn. The woman was still running frantically, looking for the perfect spot. This maze wasn’t that large. She needed to calm down.
Maeve found a wooden bench and decided to wait for Delawney here. She sat down and crossed her hands on her knees, waiting for her heroic savior to free her from this tedious hell.
A man yelled that the three minutes were over, and she sighed. Her book was dearly missed. The minutes passed, a man came to her view and disappeared. It seemed the other women hadn’t quite grasped the rules and were trying to escape, playing a game of cat and mouse.
The whole thing was ridiculous.
Annoyed by the silliness of this game, she stood up, ready to go look for Delawney herself to end this farce. When an imposing silhouette came to her right, she froze in her tracks. She knew whose it was before even looking. Slowly, she spun to face Lord Worthington.
His green eyes scanned her from head to toe, and the intensity of it made her shiver. He was gazing at her with his usual disdain, and as much as she hated the way he looked at her, she couldn’t help but gorge on the sight of him. Ever since she had arrived, she had tried to avoid looking at him altogether, but now, it was hard not to.
The baron was wearing a sleek, light gray costume, tailored to perfection, which heightened his powerful body. Maeve noticed that, like this, out in the sun, his hair had a reddish tint, almost auburn. Her eyes lingered on his scar, and she wondered how he got this one. It was lighter than his skin, without a trace of red or pink in it, so it must have been quite old. Her eyes then moved to his jaw, and she followed the hard, angular line to his chin. He cleared his throat, and she realized she was staring.
Looking up, her eyes met his, green and blue clashing. She expected him to continue his hunt for Lady Durham without a word, leaving her be. Instead, he came closer and grabbed her unexpectedly. A shiver ran down her spine when his strong fingers closed around her gloved wrist. Without any explanation, he pulled her behind him, his long strides impressive given he used a cane.
“What are you doing!” she protested, keeping her voice down. She didn’t want everyone in the labyrinth to come running. “Let go of me this instant!”
As he kept ignoring her, she panicked and tried to resist, but when she heard the seams of her dress rip, she stopped. Near her bench, there was a small recess in the hedge. He pushed her in and let go of her arm. Dismayed, she tried to think through her confused brain. What was he going to do to her? What was this about?
Deciding she wouldn’t let him do anything to her without a fight, she tried to remember what her father had taught her. She put her right foot behind, leaning her weight on it, and pulled her fists in front of her face, her left hand forward, her thumbs toward her chin.
“If you try anything, you barbaric moron, I will punch you and scream like a banshee,” she warned him.
He looked at her as if she was just out of a madhouse, his brow frowned. “I want to talk to you. In private,” he explained, not impressed by her in the slightest.
“Oh…” She was almost disappointed not to get to punch him. She let her guard down, but then realized that even if it was just to talk, his behavior was unacceptable.
She was about to let him know what she thought of his manners when he added, “It concerns Delawney.”
“What about him?” she wondered, worried. Worthington ran his finger through his hair, messing it slightly, looking for the proper words.
“John is a helpless romantic. He always sees the best in people, and he can be an optimistic fool at times,” the baron explained. Maeve frowned, not sure why he was telling her this. “I know this is all a game to you, and you probably don’t even realize you are doing it, but I have to ask you to stay away from him. For his sake.”
Maeve’s confusion slowly turned into anger. Was she understanding him properly? “What am I doing without realizing?” she asked, not hiding her irritation.
“You are leading him on, when you and I both know this won’t go anywhere.”
Outrage overwhelmed Maeve. He was implying she was some sort of tease, when she unquestionably was not. And even if she happened to be leading Delawney on, it was her problem, not Worthington’s. She glared at the baron, her eyes filled with contained rage.
“I believe what happens between Delawney and me does not concern you,” she told him, eager to put him back in his proper place. His eyes darkened and squinted at her boldness.
“I won’t let someone like you hurt him.”
“Someone like me?”
“You are a spoiled little princess who doesn’t care about anyone but herself; egoistic and selfish. You will play with him and then throw him away, regardless of—”
He didn’t have time to finish his phrase. Her blood boiled, and before she could prevent it, her hand flew to his face as she slapped him, as hard as she could. How dare he speak to her like this?
The sound resonated around them, and she stared at his stunned face. It was as if she had thrown a bucket of cold water over his head. He had no right to talk to her like this.
‘Princess’ was the affectionate nickname her father gave her and her sister, so it was dear to her, it was always said with tenderness and affection, as a term of endearment. However, Lord Worthington had meant it as a reproach. In his mouth, it didn’t mean precious and cherished, but overindulged and capricious.
Quickly, the baron regained his composure, and anger replaced his astonishment.
The silence stretched, and she noticed the maze was strangely quiet. Had everyone gone out already? Wasn’t Delawney supposed to find her?
Straightening her shoulders, she tried to look domineering, regretting for the first time in her life not being taller. “Now, if you are done insulting me, I am leaving,” she said, her voice not as strong as she had wished. Without another word, she passed by him, careful not to touch him.
As she searched for the way out of the labyrinth, her anger didn’t diminish. Who the hell did he think he was, trying to order her what to do, telling her she was selfish?
Oh, how she despised him.
Her fury turned into exasperation when she couldn’t find the exit of the maze. A recognizable statue was suddenly there, and she remembered the path. She was reaching the entrance arch when she saw Worthington, arriving from a path next to her. Averting her eyes, she ignored the rude man and came out of the labyrinth, leaving him a few yards behind her.
Everyone was waiting outside, and Maeve noticed Lady Durham leaning on Delawney, who looked positively remorseful. When she reached the group, Delawney explained the situation.
“I was coming for you, my lady, but I came across Lady Durham, who had sprained her ankle, so I escorted her out.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I am sorry we lost.”
“Oh, but you didn’t lose, Delawney,” said one of the gentlemen, very amused. “It seems the last couple out was Worthington and Lady Langston.” The man took a break, his eyes going from Maeve to the baron. “It appears my partner and I will have to choose what their forfeit will be.”
Maeve’s eyes opened wide, and she could have sworn she heard the baron growl “Bloody hell” behind her. Maeve never used swear words, but right this instant, she was tempted to mutter one too.
【06】Imposed Truce
Lucian was tired of all this childishness. For God’s sake, he had been to war, known death — almost suffered it on numerous occasions. He had complied until this moment, but there was no way he would pay a foolish forfeit.
Especially not when it regarded Lady Langston.
He couldn’t understand why he was compelled to act like an arse every time she was around. To tell the truth, he hadn’t even realized he was being rude until she had slapped him. It wasn’t like him to insult ladies, but when he was in her presence, it was as if he wasn’t in control of his brain, as if everything was heightened. He wasn’t sure of what could explain his lack of tact, and it was growing increasingly annoying. Was it because of her behavior, years ago, and the humiliation he had felt? Or was it because of the way she made him feel now?
It had been over a year since the last time he had had a woman, and Lady Maeve Langston made it all too clear. He couldn’t help it. His gaze was constantly drawn to her full lips, her slender forms, her piercing eyes… He couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to possess her.
Back in the maze, for the first time, he’d had a glimpse of her inner strength, and somehow, it made her even more compelling. He hated this weakness, how she was able to make him feel like this, without even trying. Her lovely physique made it very easy to forget she was cold and vile inside.
Lucian’s attention went back to the couple who had won the game. They were whispering in each other’s ears, trying to find the best forfeit. He gazed at Lady Langston discreetly, and he saw her pinch the bridge of her nose, visibly irritated. At least, she’d hate whatever would come as much as him.
The couple finally seemed to reach an agreement, and the man turned to them, an amused grin on his face. Lucian prepared for the worst and saw Lady Langston tense in the corner of his eye.
“We have decided,” said the lady, pausing for effect, “that the both of you shall be tied by the wrist to one another for the next hour.”
Both Lucian and his partner registered this information, and before they could say anything, the lady continued, “It is either that, or something much worse, so if I were you, I would accept without a fight.”
Lucian frowned before looking at Lady Langston. She was analyzing the situation, gauging it, her eyebrows frowned with dislike. She gave him a hateful look and her attention went back to the couple who had carried out their sentence, trying to figure if they were serious or not.
With a sigh, she finally gave up. “Fine.”
Lucian couldn’t refuse now. Not without passing for a coward. He merely nodded, and the winning woman excitedly untied a pink silk ribbon from her hat to hand it to her partner.
Lady Langston came to his left and lifted her hand to give access to her wrist. Lucian did the same, regretting having forgotten his gloves in the carriage. Under everyone’s attentive gazes, the gentleman tied their wrists together, making sure the ribbon couldn’t untie itself. Lucian looked at Delawney, and his friend, who had been mad at him earlier, was now very amused by the turn of events.
The gentleman, who was now done tying them, checked his pocket watch. “The time is half-past three. You will be free to untie the ribbon at half-past four. In the meantime, you two have fun.”
Everyone moved back to the tents where the guests were gathered, and Delawney came closer to Lucian. “This will give you the occasion to see she isn’t as shallow and as vile as you think,” said his friend in his ear, careful not to be heard by Lady Langston. With one last amused look, John followed the others to the party.
Lucian had absolutely no wish to go with them. It would be better if he could avoid being seen in this humiliating situation. When he looked at his companion of misfortune, he noticed she seemed as apprehensive as him to join the group.
“Since we are bound to suffer each other’s presence for the next sixty minutes, would you agree on a truce?” he proposed. She nodded, still reluctantly looking at the crowd from afar.
“Shall we walk in the park?” he suggested, hoping it would help pass time faster, and avoid crossing too many guests.
She looked up at him with gratitude in her eyes. “Yes, thank you.”
“Do you wish for us to go fetch a chaperone, to accompany us?”
Lady Langston looked up at him, a sparkle of amusement dancing in her blue eyes. “My legendary ability to keep men at bay has earned me the right to be free of chaperones altogether.”
“Well, according to Ackley, you may not be that good at defending your virtue,” Lucian couldn’t help to point out.
The lady’s eyes turned annoyed. “I can assure you Lord Ackley will not soon kiss another woman without her consent.”
“That must have been one hell of a slap you gave him, then.”
“A slap? Is that what he told people?”
“That is what I heard.”
“It was more a well-placed hit with my knee,” she recalled with pride. Lucian raised an eyebrow, amused. “This was my cross to bear. If it means other women will be left alone, I will accept it with honor,” she declared, falsely grave.
“How selfless of you.”
“I also have to admit it gave me great satisfaction,” she confessed. “Now, every time someone refers to women as the ‘weaker sex’, I see a sniveling Lord Ackley, whimpering on the ground, holding the precious jewels I had mercilessly crushed.”
Now, Lucian was barely holding back a smile. “Remind me not to get too close to your dangerous knees.”
She let out a soft laugh, her mouth turning into an honest smile. “For as long as we are under the truce, they should behave.”
It was Lucian’s turn to smile. The young woman had self-deprecation. A quality all too rare amongst their people.
He guided her on the path, but walking side by side, with their wrists tied like this, became quickly uncomfortable. She must have thought the same, because halting, Lady Langston struggled with the tightly attached ribbon to get her hand under his, then on the inside of his wrist, to finally stop when her hand rested over his again, but from the inside of his arm. Lucian tried to ignore the sensation of having her hand rubbing and pressing on him like that.
He had to concede her efforts weren’t in vain. It felt as if he was holding her arm now, and the position seemed much more comfortable and familiar, but also more intimate.
They resumed their walk, looking at their surroundings. The silence between them stretched for a long time, and he didn’t really know if he should try to make conversation or if they should keep walking around in religious silence. She cut his thoughts short by talking first.
“May I ask you a question? I am afraid it is rather bold and personal.”
“You may,” he answered, intrigued.
“I was wondering, since you told me so freely about your leg injury, if you would tell me about the one on your face.”
Lucian blinked. It was indeed a bold question, that a proper lady would normally never ask. Firstly, it involved blood and violence. Secondly, she was supposed to pretend like she hadn’t noticed the scar, like everybody else, even though he knew it was impossible. And finally, it was quite rude to ask someone how they got disfigured.
Lucian — who wasn’t so bent on rules and etiquette — wasn’t shocked by the inappropriateness of the question, but rather by the fact that Lady Maeve Langston, so rigidly well-mannered, would dare ask it.
Mistaking the origin of his shock, and seeing he was taking too long to answer, she worried. “I am sorry. My nanny always used to say my curiosity would be my doom. I guess she was right about that.” She seemed so confused and nervous he took pity on her.
“No, don’t worry. You just… surprised me.” She looked up and their eyes met. She observed the scar, with keen interest, and, feeling magnanimous, he decided to satisfy her curiosity.
“It happened about two years ago. I was thrown down from my horse and fighting on the muddy ground with the infantry, in the middle of the battlefield. I struggled for a while, defending myself, until a French soldier managed to reach me with his bayonet. An infantryman from my battalion got rid of him before he had time to finish the job.” Lucian paused. The memory was still clear as day in his mind, and recalling the horrors of the war was never an easy exercise. He noticed Lady Langston was drinking his words, fervidly listening to his tale.
“What unfolded next is still a blur in my mind,” he continued. “I was extracted from the tumult and sent to the physician’s tent. I couldn’t see anything, I thought I had lost my eye. They stitched me up in haste, before returning to the other injured soldiers. They gave me something to sleep, and when I woke up, they told me the eye was intact but I would remain disfigured.”
Lady Langston stopped walking, forcing him to do so, and she looked at him again. “You do realize you are not disfigured, right?”
Lucian frowned. Of course, he was. Every morning, when he shaved, that ugly and disgraceful scar was a reminder he had looked at death in the eye and survived. Although he was proud of his military accomplishments, wearing it on his face was a little excessive. There was no time for details during war surgery, and the scar could have ended up looking much better than it currently did, but also much worse.
Lady Langston was still waiting for an answer, so he gave her one. “I don’t need your sympathy. I am aware of what I look like. If the ladies’ disinterest hadn’t been an indication enough, the way my own mother looks at me would tell me everything I need to know.”
The young woman, who seemed displeased to be rebuffed like that, turned away from him and resumed walking. “If you want my opinion,” she said dryly, unable to hold her tongue for long, “the ‘ladies’ disinterest’ is more due to the fact that you continuously act like a grumpy idiot, rather than because of your scar. Also, I would like to add that I am not known for sympathies nor niceties.”
Lucian’s frowning deepened. Were people really not repulsed by his scar? He often felt as if he had become a freak, constantly tickling people’s curiosity. His male acquaintances hadn’t been very subtle about the scar, but it was the first time he had a woman’s opinion. And it wasn’t just any woman’s. It was hers . And she was making it clear she didn’t pity people, nor felt compelled to make them feel better with lies.
Understanding what it meant, Lucian raised an eyebrow at her. “Could this mean you find me dashing?” he asked, not resisting the urge to tease her. He very clearly saw her blush, the redness starting at her throat and quickly creeping up her face.
“I won’t indulge that absurd question with an answer, but I will say you certainly had a chance with Lady Durham, until you scared her with your rudeness.”
“Lady Durham?” he asked, confused. “I intimidated her to the point that the poor woman barely looked at me.”
Lady Langston rolled her eyes. “She was practically swooning at your feet.”
“She hardly was.”
“Maybe you did lose your sight with that bayonet after all,” she insisted, determined to be right.
Lucian stopped them and forced her to turn to him. His eyes fixed on hers, his gaze probed her, as if he could see past her blue irises, into her soul. He let his eyes glide over her, observing her plump mouth, her delicate throat, her modest cleavage, the tempting swell of her breasts, and then moved back to her eyes. “I can assure you my sight is perfect.”
Lady Langston looked flustered for an instant, and she blushed again. He looked at the scar on her left cheek. It was a thin line, about an inch long, slightly arched, sitting perfectly between her cheekbone and her jaw. As if he was being compelled to, he lifted his tied hand, forcing her to raise hers. Gently, he brushed the pale mark, feeling its slight relief under his thumb. He realized how intimate the gesture was, especially since he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and he let down his hand with haste.
“Now that we have established where my scar came from, what is the story of yours, princess?”
Her expression, calm and relaxed, shifted in an instant, and she was suddenly looking at him with annoyance. Taken aback, Lucian wondered what was going on.
Was she so vain that a mention of that tiny scar irritated her?
Suddenly, he was reminded of who he was speaking with, and his mood shifted along with hers. Given her fierce expression, the truce was going to be over soon.
【07】Late Rescue
Bitter, Maeve squinted her eyes at the baron.
She knew that coming from this man, ‘Princess’ wasn’t a kind, endearing word.
You are a spoiled little princess who doesn’t care about anyone but herself; egoistic and selfish.
An instant earlier, he was touching her cheek with his bare fingers, and she had been paralyzed by it, her knees weak, her throat clenched. She hadn’t taken the time to eat, ever since she’d arrived, and she had wondered if it was the reason for her temporary feebleness.
However, from the moment he had called her ‘princess’, her mind had rebelled inside of her, making her feel like herself again. How could she be so weak? To think that not even an hour earlier, she was slapping him.
She was about to tell him the origin of her scar was none of his business when she remembered about the truce. Although he wasn’t making much effort to respect it, she decided she would be the bigger man – woman – and remain cordial. Although, she didn’t need to be friendly anymore.
“I was in pursuit of a cat, and I fell on a sharp rock when I was four,” she informed him with a neutral tone.
“Was the cat a known felon? Was he a wanted thief?” the baron asked, in an effort to lighten up the mood.
“It was just a black cat, running around ca— the garden.”
Maeve had caught her tongue in time. She had been so close to saying ‘camp’. This was a part of her life that mustn’t be known. Not ever. If anyone were to learn that her mother, Amalia Langston, born Romero, the very proper Duchess of Leeds, was originally a Bohemian, Maeve’s entire family would crumble under the weight of the scandal that would erupt. Their mother was indeed born and raised Gypsy, making her blood — and her children’s — one of the lowest in all of Europe. Upon hearing that, the good society of Great Britain would turn their backs on them.
The baron and Maeve remained silent for a long time. Only focused on the gardens, strolling around. When they came across a bench, he stopped her, touching his injured leg. “Would you mind if we took a break for a moment?”
She nodded, still silent, and they sat, facing a small pond. Now that they weren’t walking, the silence felt odd. She tried to think of something to talk about, something generic. She really didn’t want to learn more personal things about Lord Worthington.
“Have you known Mr. Delawney for a long time?” she inquired.
Without even realizing it, the baron smiled at the mention of his friend. He told her how they had been friends for seventeen years now. He explained he was his sworn protector, how the poor man had been bullied his entire childhood. As he recounted their anecdotes, Maeve couldn’t help but feel like she had failed miserably at choosing a neutral subject of conversation.
She now understood why he was being so defensive, why he wanted her to stay away from Delawney. Not that she agreed on the fact she was to be treated like an insufferable wench, but she could comprehend why he would want to shield his friend from bad influences. Despite not wanting to, she was learning a lot about Worthington. He was loyal to his friends and hated injustice, as would a heroic vigilante.
As if they had conjured him, the subject of the conversation made his appearance.
“There you are!” Delawney exclaimed. “I was sent to make sure you had freed yourselves.”
“Has it been an hour already?” Worthington asked, surprised.
“Over an hour and twenty minutes. Don’t you have your watch?”
“I didn’t think of checking it.”
Maeve was about to go for the ribbon when he pre-empted her. He pulled on it, and the silky bow glided until the knot became loose. As soon as she was able to, Maeve moved her hand away and gently rubbed her wrist. She had grown accustomed to the sensation, and it felt strange now, without the pressure and the warmth of his hand under hers.
She stood up, and the baron did the same.
“So,” Delawney asked with his usual enthusiasm. “How was it?”
“Bearable.”
“Bearable.”
Maeve and Lord Worthington had both spoken at the same time, and they exchanged a strange look, half-offended, half-surprised.
“I should go back,” she declared, after a moment of awkward silence had passed. “My family will be wondering where I have been.” Not waiting for their answer, she curtsied gracefully and left the two men.
Maeve was halfway back to her family when her little brother, William, came to her. “Where have you been! We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Father wants to leave.”
“I am here now, calm down.”
“Were you with a boy?” he asked, sounding like he was ready to defend her honor. She looked at him, amused. The little brat was barely ten. He needed to slow down his horses.
“Of course I wasn’t,” she lied. Although, it wasn’t a complete lie. She had been with a man, not a boy.
“Oh right, I keep forgetting you are too old to be courted now. Like an ancient, dried prune.”
A little offended, she gave him a nudge with her hip, sending him into a gardenia bush, without stopping her course. She heard the boy laugh, get up, and run, catching back with her.
“Since Ailia is not coming to the cottage, can I come with you when I am older?” Maeve let out a small laugh, amused by her sibling’s request.
“Liam, when you get older, you will want a wife and children. You won’t want to come with your ancient, pruney sister, in a dusty house.”
“I don’t think I will ever want a wife. Girls are annoying,” William explained with a scowl. Maeve poked him with her elbow, feigning to be vexed. “Not you!” he quickly added. “You and Ailia are nice. As for Ophelia, it depends. She has good days.”
Maeve laughed again. Liam and Phee were inseparable, even if they often argued.
“I’ll tell you what,” Maeve proposed. “If when you are older, you still find girls annoying, I will gladly accept you in my cottage.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” Maeve drew a cross on her chest with her finger, and her brother smiled, satisfied.
“Not to insult you,” he said after a moment, which was never a good start, “but, although the house isn’t dusty, I am already living with my old, pruney, and wrinkled sister, and I fairly enjoy it.”
Before he could see it come, she pushed him again with her hip, sending him in a blooming hydrangea.
Lucian looked at Lady Langston until she disappeared. He couldn’t deny the woman held a certain appeal.
“So?” enquired Delawney.
“So what?”
“She isn’t what you thought she was, right?”
Lucian frowned. Admittedly, she had a depth he hadn’t perceived the first time around, but she was still a complicated woman. One second she was relaxed and easy, and the next, she would go back to being cold and distant. Delawney needed a well-balanced woman. A loving wife who wouldn’t become a problem over time. Maeve Langston would never settle down for a man who would treat her as an inferior, but she needed one who would be her equal. She needed a man who wouldn’t let her win every argument, a man who would know how to juggle with her quick temper, and who would have the patience to understand her.
To add to the problem, he knew that looking like she did, every man in England would throw themselves at her, as soon as she would be married. Like she had said, she was good at keeping them away; she had done it for years now. But what assurance did he have that she wouldn’t decide to open her horizons as soon as she would be able to enjoy the freedom married life offered?
Hell, John was his best friend, and even Lucian wasn’t sure that, over the years, he wouldn’t attempt something with the woman.
No. He wouldn’t. Seeing John humiliated wasn’t worth a few moments between a woman’s thighs. Any woman. Even the Black Swan.
Lucian looked at Delawney, who was waiting for his answer, hoping for approbation.
“It still doesn’t mean she is right for you, John,” Lucian quietly said, not wanting to detail his thoughts. His friend rolled his eyes, exasperated.
“You sound like my mother. According to her, no woman is good enough for me.”
“This woman isn’t just ‘not good enough’. She is actually bad for you,” the baron insisted. John frowned, discouraged.
“I am disappointed in you, Lucian. I thought if someone could understand, it would be you.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “Do you remember the letters I sent you, about Jane?”
Lucian’s brown knitted together for an instant, confused, and it hit him. During his years in Spain, Delawney had regularly sent him letters. He often spoke about a young woman called Jane, to whom he was growing fond of. The letters had stopped a few months before Lucian’s return to England, and they hadn’t spoken of the lady ever since. He had completely forgotten about her. Yes! Jane was perfect for Delawney. Why couldn’t his friend focus on this more sensible, more accessible woman?
“Why don’t you marry her instead? Jane.” Lucian proposed.
Delawney looked at him strangely. “You think I should?”
“Yes, she sounded perfect for you.”
“Well, I lied about the name. I was writing about Lady Langston.”
Lucian stared at his friend, perplexed. He tried to remember the content of those letters. From what he could recall, it was mostly about mundane interactions during formal events. Nothing was ever too personal, no flirting, no declarations…
Damn it! Everything made sense. It explained why Delawney hadn’t talked about her in person. He was a terrible liar, and he knew it. Lucian had fallen into Delawney’s trap. Yes, Jane sounded perfect for him, but then, he had written with his biased vision of the woman, and Lady Langston wasn’t Jane. Far from it.
“Like it or not,” said his friend, determined, “I will marry the woman it told you about in those letters. I truly hope you will change your mind about her, because I would hate to lose our friendship over this.”
With that said, John left him, giving him time for the words to sink in.
Lucian was torn. If Delawney had wanted an adventure with the woman, he would have let him. However, marriage was a different story. Imagining his amenable friend John, stuck in a terrible marriage, for the next fifty years was too much for him to handle. He hadn’t spent so many years protecting his best friend to see him make the worst decision of his life, throwing away all his potential happiness.
If only John could see past the enamored filter that seemed to blind him when it concerned Maeve Langston, he would see why their union was wrong in every possible way.
Since John couldn’t see it on his Own, Lucian would make it his duty to open his friend’s eyes and show him what he couldn’t see.
Now, how was he supposed to make her drop her lovely facade and reveal the ruthlessness hiding beneath?
Lucian had a few ideas to reach exactly that goal, and he felt both reluctant and excited by the prospect.
【08】Sneaky Saboteur
Maeve was at a boring ball again, sitting in a corner, counting something on her fingers, silent numbers forming on her lips.
When her parents had struck the deal with Ailia and her, stating they would have to go through six Seasons, Maeve had been counting the years until it would be done. Then, sometime last year, she had started to count the months. Just now, as she was sitting in a corner, watching the crowded ballroom from her retreated spot, she had decided to start counting the weeks. It was hard to focus on her task, though, as everyone was being ridiculously noisy.
Today was the sixth of May, a Saturday, and the season would end on the second Sunday of August. It wasn’t the exact date, but it was when her family usually went back to the family estate, between York and Leeds.
This year, however, they had Ailia’s wedding on the twelfth of August, and it was to be celebrated on the dukedom grounds, with numerous guests. It probably meant they would leave London before the fifth.
She had almost made her calculations all the way to the end of July when someone interrupted her efforts.
“Are you counting the people you plan on having assassinated?” Lord Worthington asked, his deep voice mocking.
Maeve looked up and tried to remain stoic at the sight he offered. He was as dashing as ever, wearing an anthracite suit that fitted him perfectly. Even his shirt was a dark shade of gray, and she wondered why men only wore white ones. The man before her was dangerously alluring, and all that darkness gave him an irresistible devilish look.
Refusing to let him trouble her, she focused back on his face. He was expressionless, as usual, and she wondered why, with all the men in Britain, he was the one who occupied her mind. Why this stoic brute? Maybe because of his darkness, and his mysterious aura surrounding him.
Remembering he was rude and arrogant, she shook her inner self. She still had her fingers up, signing the number eight. With their eyes locked, she slowly lifted one more finger, making it nine.
“There. All done. Where do you think I can find a decent assassin who would make me a batch price?” she asked sardonically, rising from her chair. A glimpse of amusement sparkled in his green eyes.
“I am afraid nine people aren’t enough to deserve a discount, swan,” he said in return, pretending to be serious.
The pet name disturbed her, so she took a moment to process his words and reply. Ever since this Swan Sisters thing had started, she’d despised the word for what it meant. But when Lord Worthington used it, there was something different about it. The warm and fluttery feeling that awoke in her stomach had nothing to do with anger or annoyance.
“It was actually nineteen,” she forced herself to reply as soon as she could think properly. “But I can find more, it isn’t a problem. Look, you showed up, and that was one more for my list.”
“I was the nineteenth one?” he asked, surprised. She nodded, a sarcastic smile on her lips. “I don’t know if I should be honored or offended not to have been the first one. I certainly am reassured,” he whispered, bending closer to her ear.
Maeve tried to ignore the sudden burst of heat that ran through her. Why on earth was she feeling so weak every time this man was around? Could someone be allergic to a particular human being? Did she really despise him that much?
“You are mistaken, my lord. You are there twice,” she told him, deciding to get him down from his high horse. “Just to make sure.”
“Yes, that makes more sense. I still think we should make it to twenty-five if we want a discount.” He offered his arm, and she took it, reluctantly. “Who could we add?” he wondered, guiding her through the crowd, the sound of his cane hitting the marbled floor in rhythm with their stroll. “Is Ackley on your list?”
“Lord Ackley has already paid for his offenses, so I don’t need for him to die.”
“Then he will be on my list,” Worthington decided, his voice even deeper than usual. She looked at him, perplexed.
“Are we to have a joined list?”
“Well, I never say no to a good bargain. Also, I have always wondered what a decent hitman looked like. I imagine ours to be a knife-wielding, bald, bearded midget with a Russian accent.”
Maeve almost laughed but remembered at the last moment he shouldn’t indulge his teasing. The man sometimes made it very hard to remember he was an arse. They walked silently among the amassed guests. People were dancing, laughing, talking… She usually was never comfortable in those situations.
Ever since she was younger, she had been subjected to panic attacks. That was one of the reasons as to why she was always thin-skinned and irritable out in society. The family’s physician had diagnosed it as a panic disorder. She was the only one of her siblings to be affected by it, and, although her mother sometimes had panic attacks, it was never as severe as Maeve’s. It could happen any time she was really anxious or worried. Her worst attack had been shortly after Ailia’s announcement about her engagement. Maeve had locked herself in a room and had lied down in a fetal position for hours, feeling like her heart could stop at any moment, unable to breathe properly.
About three years ago, she had started to experience a different kind of attack, when in crowded spaces. She had been told she suffered from light agoraphobia. That was the reason she usually wasn’t feeling good in the middle of that many people and noises. Now, however, she felt strangely serene. She discreetly gazed at her companion, wondering if he might be the cause. Maybe with his tall frame and military stature. He was making her feel safe, as if nothing could happen to her.
They walked without a purpose, and she thanked God her parents were in a different room. Her sister, however, was not missing a thing, and she could see how Ailia looked at Lord Worthington with keen curiosity. Ignoring her twin, Maeve focused on the arm against her. Its warmness seemed to spread inside of hers, making her feel alive.
“May I ask if you have had time to consider my request?” he eventually asked.
“What request are you referring to?”
“The one regarding Lord Delawney. Will you keep your distance?”
In a split second, the warm, fuzzy feeling that was growing inside of her was gone. Maeve removed her arm from his and turned to him, irritated.
“I seem to recall telling you it was none of your business!” she reminded him, whispering as vehemently as she could, amazed the man would have the audacity to reiterate his inappropriate demand.
In all truth, she had absolutely no interest in John Delawney. He was a nice, honest gentleman, but she couldn’t see herself marrying someone like him. She could already imagine how dull their life would be. If she was going to be bored for the next fifty years, she might as well do it on her own accord, without a man to dictate her every move. Not that Delawney seemed to be the controlling type.
But somehow, every time Lord Worthington tried to force her to leave the poor man alone, something deep inside of her made her want to do the opposite. Who did he think he was? He had no authority over her, no right to control her. The arrogant look plastered on his face told her he wasn’t done yet, and when he spoke again, she was proven right.
“You and I both know Delawney deserves someone less narcissistic, who is not a crazed lunatic.”
Maeve’s blood boiled inside of her veins. This man needed to be put back in his place, and she would gladly do it. Another outburst of anger slowly grew within her, and she prepared herself for the tirade of her life.
Lucian was very satisfied with himself. He hadn’t thought she would react so instantly, but there she was, about to cause a scene in front of everyone. He looked at the angry beauty in front of him, her icy blue eyes throwing murderous daggers at him, her voice shaking with animosity.
“I seem to recall telling you it was none of your business!”
Lucian couldn’t help but find her incredibly attractive right this moment. Her eyes seemed darker, taking a deeper shade of blue. Her cheeks were pink, her lips half-opened, her expression fierce.
Yes, Maeve Langston was a beautiful woman. One very close to humiliating herself in public by throwing a fit of rage. All she needed was a little push, and Delawney would see that the woman wasn’t stable. Lucian discreetly checked to his right. He had guided them closer to John, who was talking with a group of friends, ten feet away. His old pal wouldn’t miss any of what was about to unfold.
Looking as smug as possible, he looked at Lady Langston, ready to administer the final blow. “You and I both know Delawney deserves someone less narcissistic, who is not a crazed lunatic.”
If looks could kill, Lucian would have died right there.
He felt a little bad about what he was doing, but the lady would quickly get over it, and Delawney wouldn’t end up heartbroken or in an unhappy marriage. It was all for the best.
He saw how she was trying to contain herself, but she was going to explode any second now.
“Is there something wrong?” John asked, right beside them all of a sudden.
Damn it! The presence of this newcomer shook Lady Langston out of her fury. Realizing what she’d been about to do, she quickly regained her composure, before turning to Delawney, a warm smile plastered on her face.
“No, everything is fine, my dear friend,” she said, before glaring at Lucian. “Your timing is impeccable,” she continued, wrapping her arm around Delawney’s and touching his chest with her other hand, in a very familiar way. “I wanted a dance, but our poor, crippled friend here cannot oblige.”
Lucian gave the woman a ferocious look, warning her not to push him. Delawney, who seemed shocked by her sudden affectionateness, didn’t notice and took a moment to respond. Maeve, who wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, gave Lucian a jubilant look, knowing she was winning this round. With his hands shoved in his pocket, he fisted them with frustration. At this point, there was nothing he could do but watch.
“It— it would be my— my honor to— to oblige you, my lady,” Delawney eventually answered, stuttering as he used to in his youth.
“Oh, thank you!”
Apparently delighted to be granted this dance, she briefly rested her temple on his shoulder. Lucian felt a low growl roll in his throat. Now she was overdoing it. This was ridiculous. How could Delawney not see the triumphant look she was displaying?
The puzzled gentleman moved to guide her to the dancing area, and Lucian heard what she was telling him. “We were talking about you, you know. Lord Worthington told me so many great things. I feel like I know you even better now, and…” The rest of it was lost in the cacophony of the crowd.
Lucian fought against the urge to hit something. He had played a dangerous game and had lost. Maeve Langston was proving to be a tough adversary, and he feared that with his endeavor, he had actually thrown his best friend into the mouth of the beast.
He watched as John granted her this waltz, as well as the next four dances.
Damn it… What had he done?
【09】War Talks
Maeve was looking outside of the carriage window, her eyes unfocused. Her thoughts were so absorbing, she barely registered the dark streets passing.
Next to her, her sister was looking out her own window. In front of them, their father was slowly falling asleep, his arm wrapped around his drowsy wife, whose head rested on his shoulder.
Maeve was still fuming at Lord Worthington for treating her the way he had. How could he be so charming, joking with her about a hired assassin, and then treating her like garbage, making her angrier than she had ever been? Oh, the man was a scoundrel! She wouldn’t fall for his kind act again. Never.
“Who was that man?” Ailia asked, cutting short Maeve’s thoughts. At the mention of a man, their parents both opened their eyes. Maeve looked at her twin and realized she was talking to her.
“What man?”
“The one you were with.”
“You know him. It is John Delawney.” As always when she was speaking to Ailia lately, Maeve’s tone was cold, almost harsh. Her sister’s betrayal still wasn’t behind them. Her twin seemed rather used to it, though, as she wasn’t intimidated by Maeve’s frigid attitude.
“I know Delawney, I meant the tall one, dressed in dark tones.”
Now, both their parents were sitting straight, very interested in the conversation. Maeve gave her sister an annoyed look. Really? She really wanted to do that here, in front of her parents?
“We were introduced to him three years ago, don’t you remember? He is Delawney’s friend. Lucian Thorne, Lord Worthington.”
“Baron Worthington, of Bristol?” their father wondered. Maeve nodded. “I knew his late father.”
“And you almost married his sister,” their mother recalled, barely hiding her rancor.
“Love, it was nearly twenty years ago. Will you ever let it go?”
As her father tried to win over her jealous mother, Maeve turned to Ailia. “Did you really have to mention him in front of them?” she whispered harshly.
“It’s not like I’m going to get another opportunity! You barely talk to me and you cannot bear to be in the same room as me! When will you let it go, Binak ?”
“You have lost the right to call me like that!” ‘Binak’ meant ‘twin’ in their mother’s tongue, Romani, and it was the nickname they had called each other their whole life. “You chose him over me. You betrayed me.”
“It has been four months now! You are being childish. This is ridiculous.” Furious, Ailia turned back to her window and Maeve did the same.
Their parents were reconciled, and her mother, not very subtly, asked, “So… What about this Lord Worthington?”
“There is nothing to talk about. He is a pompous idiot, like the rest of them.”
“But, is he a good-looking pompous idiot?” her mother insisted, not discouraged.
Maeve sighed. “I guess one could find him attractive.”
When she turned to them, Maeve saw that her mother was holding back a delighted smile, while her father was frowning. She could tell her mother wanted to press her with more questions, but, somehow, the duchess managed to hold them back.
Shaking her head, Maeve returned her attention to the streets, her mind slowly drifting back to that green-eyed rascal.
Lucian stared at the door from the inside of his carriage, wondering again why had he been summoned here, at 10 Downing Street? He had received a letter, a few days ago, informing him he had an audience with the Prime Minister, Robert Jenkinson, second Earl of Liverpool. He had no idea what this was about, and he could only guess it regarded the war.
A quick check of his pocket watch informed him he had ten minutes before the meeting. Deciding it would be better to wait inside, he came out of his car and hurried to the door, trying to avoid the rain. Two constables were posted on each side of it, surveilling the entrance. Lucian knocked after offering them a nod, and the door opened instantly. A valet let him in and took his wet hat and coat, before guiding him to a desk where a secretary was waiting.
Lucian looked around the famous house and found it to be quite anticlimactic. It was austere and very banal, like so many cabinets in London. Focusing back on his task and saw that the secretary was waiting.
“I’m Lord Worthington,” he said, nervous. “I am here to see Lord Liverpool.”
“Yes, of course, my lord. They are ready for you, in the Prime Minister’s office, if you will follow me.”
‘They’? Lucian was more and more confused. Why had he been summoned? The secretary guided him to a double door and knocked twice. When a voice inside allowed him to, he half-opened the door.
“My lords, Baron Worthington has arrived.”
“Let him in,” said the voice. The secretary opened the door fully and moved aside, allowing Lucian to enter. There were two gentlemen in the room, standing up to greet him.
Lucian first saw Liverpool behind his desk. He was a lean, tall man, looking older than he actually was, a life of politics having taken a toll on him. The second man, who had had his back to him at first, seemed eerily familiar, but Lucian didn’t recall ever meeting him. He was about ten years older than Liverpool and carried himself like a military man.
“Baron, welcome,” Liverpool said, offering him his hand to shake. “I don’t think you two have ever met. This is Richard Wellesley, Marquess Wellesley.”
Lucian frowned as he shook Wellesley’s hand. He had heard of the man, of course. He was the older brother of his Field Marshall, Arthur Wellesley. Although he had been posted in Spain during his service, they had indeed never met.
They all sat down, and Liverpool explained the reason why Lucian was here today.
“The Marquess is here to speak on behalf of his brother, the newly appointed Duke of Wellington. You see, Wellington has written a very eulogistic report of your military exploits to the Prince regent, who has demanded you’d be rewarded with a title, matching your sacrifice for the Kingdom.”
Lucian frowned. It was common for military men to have titles appointed to them, as an acknowledgment of their accomplishment of the field. Wellington himself had started from nothing and was now a duke and the Field Marshall — responsible for the entirety of the coalition army. Even the man next to him had been made Marquess for his military work. It was common. However, Lucian already felt trapped by his barony. A higher title would only make it worse.
“I don’t want it,” he declared, realizing too late how rude it sounded. The Prince Regent himself had ordered it. Both men looked at him with wide eyes, shocked to see someone refuse more prestige, more power, more money…
“Let me at least tell you what it is,” Liverpool insisted. “The Prince would like to restore the title of Earl of Bath, which isn’t far from your barony in Bristol. It would be its sixth creation, as the last Countess died a few years ago.”
“Excuse me, my lord, but I still don’t want the title.” That didn’t fail to shock them again.
“It… Well, allow me to make the full proposal,” stuttered the Prime Minister. “The title of Earl of Bath is yours to take, no matter what happens. It is your compensation for your excellent work in Spain and for your injuries. But, the Field Marshall Wellington would like for you to return, as a Lieutenant General, since Napoleon is at it again. If you do so and prove to be as skillful as you were in the peninsula, the Prince Regent will turn the Earldom of Bath into a marquessate.”
Lucian thought about what all of this meant. If the titles didn’t interest him, going back to fight against Napoleon’s army certainly was tempting. Lieutenant General was a rank above his last one. It was a great promotion. Wellington himself had occupied this position seven years ago when Lucian had joined his ranks.
Lucian gazed down at his leg. Yes, it was getting better, but certainly not enough to be fully effective on the battlefield.
“It would be strictly tactical,” explained the Marquess, noticing Lucian’s concern. “My brother expects you to undermine the enemy with your clever tactics, not fight the enemy on the battlefield.”
Lucian thought about it. A lower officer not fighting amongst his men was never well perceived, but a Lieutenant General wasn’t always expected to be with his corps. He could, in fact, take part in the strategy debates and follow the battle from a calculated position.
“Can I accept the military proposition and refuse the titles?” Lucian asked.
Both men looked at him as if a second head had grown on his shoulder. Yes, he could imagine very few men would accept the butchery of war and refuse the comfort of a marquessate. But Lucian wasn’t any man.
“Hmm…” hummed the Prime Minister, perplexed. “I would have to inquire about this. But I do not see why it wouldn’t be possible.”
“How long do I have before I can give you my definitive answer?”
“The troops will be gathering in Belgium soon. You have two weeks for your answer regarding if you will join Wellington or not. As for the titles, you have until the end of the season for your answer.”
“I am answering now for the titles. I am not taking them. And I will give you my answer for Belgium within two weeks.”
Liverpool nodded, still confused by what had just happened. All three exchanged a few words about the war until Lucian took his leave. The Marquess used the opportunity to leave too, and they walked side by side in the sober hallways.
“I have to say, it is an honor to finally put a face on the tactical genius my brother has been telling me about,” Wellesley declared.
Lucian nodded humbly. “And I am honored to meet the man who used to scold a boy who now leads an army of over seventy thousand men,” he joked, making the Marquess laugh. “How is your brother?”
“Arthur is always well. He was made for war. It is strange to think this odd child, who wasn’t good at anything, has become one of the most accomplished officers that ever lived.”
“I have to admit he has a mind like no other. His victories speak for him.”
“I have no illusion he has been very good at surrounding himself with people with an equally great mind, like yourself. Rising to the rank of Lieutenant General in under ten years? Even Arthur hasn’t made it. No one really ever has, actually.” They had reached the main hall, and the valet brought them their coats and hats. “If it hadn’t been for your leg,” continued the Marquess, buttoning his coat, “you would probably have taken his place in another ten years.”
“I guess we will never know,” Lucian bitterly answered. They both went out, and Lucian saluted the man before going back to his coach.
During the entire way home, his mind was effervescent with the prospect of going back to war. That was all he had ever wanted, ever since he had been forced to return to England a year ago. There was nothing holding him back here. He had no relationship with his siblings and no wife. The only person he cared about was Delawney, but the man was old enough to take care of himself if anything happened to Lucian.
At the thought of Delawney, his mind conjured a pair of icy blue eyes.
Yes, before he left for God knows how long, Lucian had to make sure John wouldn’t want to marry Maeve Langston anymore. His campaign against the woman needed to intensify.
【10】Hyde Park
Maeve had always been comfortable on a horse. Ever since her first pony, Apple pie, she had enjoyed riding. Although her twin had grown tired of it over the years, Maeve knew she never would.
She and her family were having a picnic at Hyde Park. With her father, they had come on horseback, while the rest of her family had traveled in the luxurious family coach.
Maeve looked at her surroundings, enjoying the view from her stallion, Sleipnir. Delighted to be riding again, she bent forward and petted the powerful neck of the animal, enjoying the fine texture of his sleek fur on her naked palm. She always enjoyed mounting her companion without any gloves, so hers were tucked into the pockets of her riding skirts.
Sleipnir had been a formidable gift from her father, for her eighteenth birthday, poor Apple Pie being too old and short for her. She had received a horse, and Ailia a new wardrobe. Maeve had no doubts as to which one got the best gift. The entirety of the wardrobe her twin had received was now out of fashion, but Sleipnir was still at the top of his game.
It was a magnificent thoroughbred, from a bloodline of champions. He was taller than the average of his race, with over seventeen hands from the ground to the top of his withers. He was registered as a palomino, which meant his coat was golden-yellow, his mane and tail flaxen. His color was very light, though, and it reminded her of tea with a splash of milk, and he had white markings on his back legs and from his forehead to his nuzzle. Her father was mounting his Arabian, a gray mare named Osiris, after his previous horse, Horus.
They were strolling around the park while the rest of the family was enjoying the sun on the grass. Maeve wiggled uncomfortably, not used to the sidesaddle. When they were alone in the family estate, she was allowed to ride with one leg on each side like a man, because her father judged it safer. However, a proper lady could hardly appear in a public place with widely parted legs, as it would be deemed indecent. So instead, she was forced to ride like so, risking breaking her neck in order to follow the social protocol.
As they followed the graveled paths of the park, they would now and then cross other riders, and they saluted them with a silent nod. Maeve constantly had to keep her horse steady. She could feel he wanted to trot and gallop, as the poor animal had been stuck in his stall for weeks, despite the grooms taking him out every day.
Her father was always up for a good race. Certain he wouldn’t say no to some action, she was about to ask him when she heard a horse trotting toward them. She turned to the incoming rider, and her heart skipped a beat when she recognized his strong build and tall shape.
Lord Worthington.
He was mounting an imposing quartet horse, an American breed. The coat was hard to determine, between bay and brown. The dashing man mounting it was wearing beige riding pants, black knee-length boots, and a jacket with a finely embroidered pattern she couldn’t quite make out.
As he came closer, Maeve’s father noticed him and turned around too. The baron quickly caught up and slowed his horse next to hers.
“I thought it might be you,” Worthington declared with his forever stern expression, grazing the rim of his hat. “Lady Langston. Your Grace.”
“And who might you be?” asked her father.
“We met a long time ago. I am Lucian Thorne, Baron Worthington. I am Harriet’s younger brother.”
“Ah, yes, I have heard about you.” The baron made his horse move to better be facing Maeve.
“Really? Has your daughter talked about me?” Maeve’s eyes widened. The audacity!
“Not really,” said her father haughtily, putting the baron back to his place. “I have read a piece about your performance during the Peninsular War.” The duke paused and turned to his daughter. “Maeve, darling, we should go back. Your mother insisted we didn’t make them wait too long for the cake.”
Right this instant, she loved her father more than ever. She hadn’t exchanged a word with the annoying baron, and she was already escaping his presence. It was perfect.
At least, until the duke spoke again. “Would you care to join us?”
A large, triumphing smile stretched on Worthington’s lips, revealing his white, perfectly aligned teeth. “It would be my greatest pleasure, your Grace.” It was the first time she saw him really smile, and she felt her stomach clutch at the sight. Despising the way he made her feel, she gave him a murderous glance and turned her attention to a passing couple.
Reluctantly, Maeve followed the two men as they were joining her family, talking about the pending situation in France.
Why? Why was she doomed to constantly suffer this man’s presence? Even during family outings, she couldn’t be free of him.
They reached the spot where her family had settled down, and the men got down from their horses. She panicked when she saw the baron coming at her, to help her down, and quickly removed her feet from the stirrups. Before he came too close, she let herself slide down Sleipnir, refusing to let him help her. In her haste, she lost her balance as her feet touched the ground, and two powerful hands gripped her waist to keep her steady.
She looked up and glared at Lord Worthington, who was looking at her with a smug expression.
“My love,” said the duke behind them. “This is Lord Worthington.” He helped his wife up, and Maeve watched as her mother studied the baron with acute interest. Worthington kissed the duchess’s hand and saluted the rest of the family, who was still spread on the white cloth the servants had set down on the grass. William, who was the only one up, came closer to the intruder.
“How tall are you?” the young boy asked, impressed.
“6’6,” answered the baron, apparently used to be asked. Maeve frowned, surprised. He was so imposing she would have thought he had more than six inches over her.
“Mother, will I become that tall?” William asked, turning to his mother, very invested.
“Cameron is already six-two, so who knows?”
The duchess signaled a valet, and the servants suddenly became busy. She invited everyone to sit down, and Maeve, who had taken too long to choose her spot, was only left with the choice of sitting next to the baron or her sister.
Plague or cholera?
Holding back her frustration, she sat down in the nearest spot, near the green-eyed devil, and listened absentmindedly. Her mother was asking all kinds of questions to the baron. A slice of sponge cake, layered with raspberry jam and whipped cream, was handed to everyone.
Maeve ate it silently as the conversation slowly drifted to matters of war again. Couldn’t Napoleon just take a clue and stop with this nonsense?
“Would you go back?” William wondered. He was clearly fascinated by the family’s impromptu guest.
“Actually, I was asked to, earlier this week.” Maeve stopped eating and looked up at the man.
“Did you say yes?” the boy continued.
“I have ten more days to decide. But I think I will.”
Maeve’s heart tightened. Was it from relief? It felt strange. She didn’t feel lighter at the prospect.
After Worthington’s revelation, no one dared to talk. How do you follow such news? Thankfully, William had no filter and didn’t care about what was proper. “Will it be dangerous?”
The baron frowned as if he hadn’t thought of the question. “It is war. You can never be sure.”
William nodded, his eyes unfocused. “Mother, can I become a soldier when I am older?”
“Certainly not.”
“Why!?”
“Because it is dangerous.”
“But I can defend myself!”
Ophelia, who had miraculously been silent until now, interfered. “How can you be a soldier when I, a girl, can kick your butt?”
Offended, William got up, but before he could reach her, Ophelia ran away. The boy followed, trying to catch her, and the Nanny tried desperately to make them come back.
Using the distraction they offered, Maeve stood up. “Sleipnir needs to run. I will be back in a moment.”
Worthington rose too, and he gave her a cocky smirk. “Would you like some company? My horse would surely enjoy some exercise too.”
She looked up at him, trying to guess what his mischievous brain was planning behind his unreadable facade. She was about to refuse when she saw her mother behind him, nodding with insistence.
Clenching her teeth, Maeve finally looked him in the eye for the first time today. “Why not,” she answered with as little enthusiasm as possible.
A valet handed her the reign of her horse, and she took her position to mount him. A small yelp escaped her when she felt two large hands grip her at the waist and lift her. Before she could say anything, she was seated safely on her horse. Flustered, she glared at the daring baron who was looking at her, very proud of his little display of strength.
He went to his own horse, and with a smooth motion, he straddled it. Worthington turned to her family to salute the lot and thank them for the cake. Before he had time to finish, Maeve spurred her horse, launching him in a slow trot.
Faster than she’d thought, he joined her and forced her to slow the pace, making her horse walk again.
“How would you feel about a race?” he asked, turning toward her.
Given Maeve’s very strong competitive instinct, she considered his proposal with care. She would also love to have the occasion to make him bite the dust. A wicked smile grew on her lips at the idea. Understanding she would agree, the baron continued.
“Should we make it interesting and wager on it?”
She turned to him, predisposed. “What do you propose we play for?”
“A forfeit of the winner’s choosing.”
“Only if the forfeit is chosen before we start, then,” she insisted.
“I am fine with that. What would you have me do?”
“If I win…” Maeve started, trying to find the perfect forfeit. “If I win, you will leave me alone. You won’t talk to me, to my family. You will not even look at me. You will simply ignore me, for the rest of our respective lives.”
She distinctly saw his eyes darken, a disapproving shadow passing on his face. He regained his composure, stoic again. “I wanted to go nice on you, but since you ask for such a price, I can only ask one of the same importance.”
“What is it?” she worriedly asked.
“If I win, you will spend one hour, when and where I choose it, alone with me.”
Maeve looked at him, outraged. “Your price is significantly higher than mine!”
“It depends on what happens during that hour. What can you imagine for it to sound so scandalous?”
Maeve glared at him with pure hostility. She could see he was holding back his proud grin.
She looked at his horse, gauging it. His American mare was shorter and thicker than Sleipnir. There was no way she could beat him. But then, she was mounting on a ridiculous sidesaddle. The idea she might lose made her hesitate. She didn’t know how good of a horseman he was, and the forfeit he was asking for could ruin her reputation entirely if it were known. It was risky. She was about to tell him to go to hell when she saw him bend to touch his knee, a small flinch of pain flashing across his face.
A smile stretched the corners of her lips up. Maybe, after all, she had an advantage.
【11】Merciless Race
Lucian tried his hardest not to smile. He was certain that Maeve Langston was an intelligent woman. However, for some reason, when it came to him, she disregarded all common sense.
This, buying that little act of pretending his knee was hurting him, was the last nail in her coffin. She was going to accept his bet, and she was going to lose. He patted his horse’s neck, already thankful for the win she’d give him. Minerva wasn’t much to look at, but she was incredibly fast and strong.
Lucian looked at Lady Langston’s stallion. The beast was magnificent, which led him to think she was an accomplished horsewoman. But he had also noticed she was uncomfortable with her saddle. He, however, was on a good day, his knee barely hurting. If Lady Langston seemed to be a good rider, he was, without a doubt, an excellent one. During the war, he had spent half of his time on horseback and had led his own cavalry squadron. He had no doubts about his abilities, but maybe, once more, the woman would surprise him.
“I agree to your terms,” she finally declared. “Do you have any last words, before you aren’t allowed to talk to me any longer?”
Lucian let out a soft laugh. She had some confidence in her; he could give her that. “I would rather start thinking about what I will use my hour for,” he answered. As expected, his insinuating comment didn’t fail to destabilize her, and he saw redness creep up from her cleavage, all the way to her cheeks.
“The first one passing Kensington’s gates?” he proposed. They were on the far eastern side of the park. The race would be over a mile long. She nodded, and they both stopped their horses, aligning them. “Ready? Set… Go!”
He had barely said ‘go’ that she spurred her horse, launching him in a triple gallop. Nearly as reactive as her, Lucian wasn’t far behind her.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and there were many people on the paths. Strategically, they both changed their course to compete on the grass areas instead. He watched the woman before him, and had to admit she was, in fact, a superb horsewoman. She was in total harmony with her horse’s movements, guiding him with ease through the obstacles.
They soon reached a small hedge, guarding a perpendicular graveled road, and he saw Lady Langston brace herself, ready to send her horse jumping over it. The stallion leaped, and Lucian admired her form. His heart dropped when he saw that her landing wasn’t as safe as it should have been, her frame struggling to remain firmly planted on the saddle. As much as she irritated him, he didn’t want to be responsible for her death. He didn’t have time to worry about it, however, as it was his time to focus on his own jump. He landed smoothly, but he knew that, had he been forced on a sidesaddle, it wouldn’t have been so easy.
They reached the Italian garden, which meant they were halfway to the finish line. Deciding he had let her ahead long enough, he spurred Minerva and smiled as he could already see her advance lessen.
It was exhilarating, the rush of the competition, this sensation of flying… It was the first time in over a year that he pushed himself like that, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. Minding the people present, Lucian crossed another path, separating from his competitor, and spurred his mare even harder. It was hard to keep an eye on Lady Langston, as he had to focus on the amassed wanderers, but he saw the moment she noticed his sudden advantage. Leaning even more forward, she tried to catch up with him.
Lucian could see the gates, and a large smile grew on his lips. Using his riding crop for the first time, he whipped his horse’s thigh. He usually never used it and swore to himself he would make up for it. Tonight, Minerva would be showered with apples and carrots.
He focused solely on the finish line, unable to watch his opponent’s course. He could hear she wasn’t far, the powerful steps of her horse right behind him.
The sound of their horses’ hoofs on the ground changed as they reached a graveled area. And he could tell she was even closer than he’d thought. Lucian’s eyes didn’t let go of the gates. Forty yards… Twenty… Ten… Five…
There!
As soon as he passed the gates, he pulled on his mare’s reins and turned around, only to notice Lady Langston was barely eight feet behind him. It had been close, way too close.
When they managed to stop their horses, he turned to her, triumphant. “So, swan, what was that about not speaking to you anymore?”
Out of breath, the lady loathingly glared at him. He could see her eyes were filled with frustrated tears, making them glassy. Pins had fallen from her hair, and she was properly disheveled. Her cheeks were pink, a thin layer of sweat covering her face and chest.
Seeing her like this undid him. Apart from the hateful glance, she looked exactly like a woman who had just been very thoroughly satisfied. He felt his prick swell at the idea. Bloody hell. One hour with her would never be enough.
Without a word, she got down from her horse, her breathing still short. She moved away and put a hand on a tree, leaning on it, her other hand on her chest, as if she was trying to calm down her racing heart.
Lucian frowned, understanding she wasn’t only catching her breath. She seemed distressed. Something was wrong.
He swiftly got down and joined her. When he touched her shoulder, she shoved his hand away. His pragmatic brain took over, and he assessed the situation. Her breathing was irregular as if she couldn’t inhale properly. Her entire frame was trembling, and she wobbled as if her legs couldn’t support her. He knew those symptoms. He had seen it countless times in soldiers. She was having a panic attack.
He suddenly felt the need to protect her, like a primal instinct. Ignoring the curious people around them, he grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Look at me,” he told her. She ignored his command, still trying to breathe. “Maeve,” he insisted, using her name for the first time, “look at me.” This time, she obeyed, and she turned around to glare at him with hatred in her eyes. He tried to see past her rancor, and the fear he could see in her blue irises pained him. “Take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Do it with me.” He showed her, breathing slowly, deeply, at a steady rhythm.
Her throat was clenched, preventing her from following his instruction, and her panic grew stronger. “I c… I can’t… breathe…” she managed to say, closing her eyes.
Lucian looked around and noted people were taking notice of them, observing the scene with interest. Grabbing her arm firmly, he forced her into a more discrete spot. Placing a hand on her neck, ignoring her vain attempt at pushing him away, he massaged it slowly, trying to calm her down. She was still trying to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut, her trembling limbs weak.
“Look at me, Maeve. Look at my eyes.” She opened them again, and her icy eyes locked on his. “In,” he said, breathing in through his nose. “Out,” he continued, blowing the air through his mouth. He kept going until she managed to follow his rhythm. In… Out… In… Out…
Never letting go of his eyes, latched onto them as if her life depended on it, she calmed down slowly. Eventually, her trembling ceased, proving she was doing much better. He felt the tense muscles in her neck relax and saw the redness leave her face. Within minutes, she was calm, almost serene, an unusual sight when Maeve Langston was concerned. Unable to resist the temptation, he moved his hand from her neck to gently graze her cheek with his thumb.
He was so close to her he could see every detail, the light freckles on her nose, her long and thick black lashes surrounding her magnificent eyes, the tiny hair curled around her face… She was observing him with the same attention, her eyes gliding over his face, following his jawline, checking his scar, lingering on his lips… He held in his breath when hers parted, almost instinctively, and for an instant, Lucian was tempted to close the few inches that separated their mouths and kiss her.
How many times had he wondered what it would be like to kiss the Black Swan? How often had he wondered what she tasted like? How soft her lips would feel against his? If she’d recoil when he pushed his tongue between her lush lips? The answers were right there for the taking.
All he had to do was bend over a few inches to get them.
From what he could see, she seemed to have the same thoughts about him.
He bent slightly, carefully watching her reaction, and she didn’t waver. On the contrary. Her lips pursed, almost imperceptibly, and it was all the approval he needed.
Before he could make his final descent and claim her lips, a child cried loudly somewhere, reminding him they were in a very public place. He straightened up and moved away from her tempting lips.
Now that the moment was gone, Lucian realized who he had been about to kiss. The cold, arrogant bitch he was supposed to discredit, for the sake of his best friend.
It seemed she regretted her weakness too, as she looked at him with confusion and disdain. She took out a tissue from a hidden pocket in her dress, and gracefully padded her face, removing the thin film of sweat. When did the same with her throat, her neck, and the part of her chest exposed by her sober cleavage, Lucian couldn’t help but follow the gesture, his eyes drawn to the pale skin of her upper chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to ignore the fact he was very close to being jealous of a piece of fabric. She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I hadn’t realized the forfeit I asked meant that much to you, swan.”
At the mention of the bet, her breathing accelerated again. It pleased him to know how much power he had over her now, and he tried his best to hide it. “I hadn’t realized what a fragile creature you were,” he quickly added. “How about this; I won’t ask it of you before two months have passed. Does it reassure your delicate nature?”
Offense appeared on her beautiful face at his mocking tone, and she finally looked at him, confused.
“I know you believe me to be a miserable brute, but I am not that mannerless. I don’t force women.” He looked at their horses, looking for some grass to graze. “Also, it wasn’t a fair bet. I knew I would win,” he explained with a pompous grin. That didn’t fail to wake her combative instinct. Before she could tell him off, he continued. “Although, I will admit you were a much tougher adversary than I imagined.”
“I almost had you.”
“Yes, you did.”
Looking down, she bit her lower lip, her intertwined fingers twisting in front of her.
“You really won’t ask me for that hour for two months?” she asked, her voice so small he barely heard it. It was strange to see her like this. She always showed such strength, such fearlessness, that he felt as if he was in front of a different woman.
“I won’t. I will never force a woman. Do you understand?” Her eyes probed his, as she tried to see if she could trust him. She must have found her answer because she nodded slightly.
With one last look in his eyes, she moved away from him, steady on her feet. She went to her horse, which was patiently waiting. Before he had the time to assist her, she mounted her stallion with an expert gesture.
The walk back to her family was a silent one, and Lucian was lost in his thoughts. He had always had a very acute protective instinct. His friendship with Delawney was living proof of it. He couldn’t help but feel the urge to help and protect the fragile people around him.
The fierce woman next to him, until now, had never shown any sign of weakness. She was all teeth and claws, and pushing her had been a fun endeavor until now.
A panic attack of that magnitude wasn’t something to be overlooked. For the first time, he had seen her strong facade crack, and it made him realize she might not be as solid and confident as she wanted people to think. The indestructible Maeve Langston was turning out to be destructible, and the perspective of pushing her around was suddenly less appealing, but it also meant Delawney could be saved. She wasn’t unbreakable.
They reached Lady Langston’s family without a word. The servants were packing the last of their things, and everybody was ready to leave. Without getting down from his horse, Lucian thanked them again for the cake and the lovely moment.
During the entire way back home, Lucian couldn’t help but think about that moment they had shared, their kiss that almost happened. With her guard down, she hadn’t been reluctant at the idea of him kissing her. Could she possibly be attracted to him?
Maybe this should be his new approach. If he seduced and compromised her, Delawney wouldn’t be interested in the woman any longer. Not after he’d shown him she had loose morals and little virtue. Also, who wanted to go after his best friend?
Lucian was thrilled with his new plan. Somehow, he was looking forward to debauching the cold and beautiful Black Swan.
【12】Distracted Tutor
Maeve was growing increasingly bored with the city. She missed the country, and couldn’t wait for the family to move back up north. She had never really enjoyed it when they would come to London for the Season, but at least she had Ailia to pass the time. When together, they were never bored, and even during the dullest of days, they would find something to occupy them, a new topic, a new game…
As much as she missed her sister, Maeve felt like she had been crossed with Ailia for too long now. She didn’t know how to get back to her. With time, she had come to realize her reaction had been childish, and she could understand love might be a strong, unstoppable feeling. She loved her sister, and her sister loved her, but it felt as if Ailia suddenly loved her less than a man she barely knew, and that was the real heartbreak.
Nevertheless, she regretted not being on good terms with her twin, as the days passed by horribly slowly. After a long week with only books and her violin to occupy herself, it was Saturday again. Tonight, she was going to another ball, with her sister and her parents.
During the Season, she had to go on one outing per week. It was the agreement she had struck with her parents years ago, and she usually chose the one with the most people, so she could disappear in a corner the entire evening without anyone noticing. That was why she usually chose Saturdays.
Even though she knew it would be like the dozens of others she had been to, she dreaded the ball to come. Or rather, she dreaded seeing him tonight. It had been almost a week since their encounter in Hyde Park, and the memory of it was still crystal clear in her mind.
His cold mask had dropped, and she had had a glimpse of the man he was behind his austere behavior. She had seen how he’d cared for her wellbeing, how he had worried, helping her down from her panic attack. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of confusion. He had, of his own volition, delayed the forfeit she owed him when he was in his right to claim it any time. The remarkably diplomatic gesture has stunned her. As he had said, he wasn’t a ruffian. She knew it now, and that knowledge was dangerous for her.
Every time they had come across each other, she had learned something new about the man, and the brooding barbarian she had first thought him to be was seeming more and more like a gentleman. Admittedly, he was somber and liked to keep his distance, but she now felt like it was a defense mechanism, and she knew all too much about those.
Before she was introduced to society, Maeve was a happy, enthusiastic young woman, but with time, she had grown colder and more reserved. She was still the same with the people closest to her, or at least she thought, but the outside world saw her as a frigid, snobby wench. She kept telling herself she was at peace with it, but the truth was it pained her to know that people considered her with disdain. Alas, just like with her twin, it was too late to back out.
Thank God, some people still appreciated her. She had a few friends, among which Delawney was a welcomed addition. For the last few weeks, she had grown particularly fond of him, and she was always glad to see him. He was taking the habit of paying visits to her family and had come for tea earlier during the week. He had entertained them with tales of the West Indies, which fascinated him.
Maeve knew he held tender feelings for her, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t see herself with him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, Delawney was actually quite agreeable on the eye. He was taller than her by a solid inch, had a handsome face with fine traits, a straight nose, hazelnut eyes dusted with golden flakes, and his dark red hair gave him a certain uniqueness.
In spite of his excellent features, he didn’t move her; she only saw him as a friend. The rational side of her thought maybe she should lower her expectations, and if he ever proposed, she should accept, with the hope stronger feelings would grow over time. But as it was, the idea of laying with him repulsed her. Actually, she couldn’t see herself being intimate with any man.
Liar .
Yes, there was one man, she had to admit. Last week, for the first time in her life, she had wanted to be kissed. For an instant, as Lord Worthington was soothing her, she had gotten lost in her thoughts, and she had wondered how his lips would feel on hers. The idea had grown inside of her head, to the point she had been craving for the answer.
She had only been kissed once in her life, and it had been a stolen, mediocre kiss from a gentleman she wasn’t particularly fond of. However, when she had stood in front of Lucian Thorne, his lips a few inches away, his large, warm hand massaging her neck, the way her name had flowed out of his tongue, his voice sensual and husky… At that moment, she had wondered how it would be. Would the baron be tender, harsh, passionate…? Would it ignite sparkles in her body, as it did every time he touched her skin without his gloves? Would she swoon from it, as she had read in books? She had so many questions, to which she both wanted and feared the answers.
She wasn’t so dense that she didn’t realize what was happening between her and Worthington. She was attracted to him. Those emotions she didn’t think she had in her had finally awakened.
But why, oh why, did they have to awake for this man? Of all the men on this island, her body had somehow chosen the most arrogant, the most annoying one she knew. In spite of the humanity she had seen in him for the first time, he still remained calculating and determined to order her around. What if she wasn’t able to control herself and succumbed to the man? She would surely hate herself for the rest of her days.
She only had to repress those unwanted pulsions for a few more weeks, and then he would go back to war while she would go back up north. Then, soon enough, she would start her quiet life on the southern coast. There could be years before they came across one another again. If they ever did. Quickly, those unwelcomed sentiments would fade, and the thought of Lucian Thorne would slowly be erased from her memory.
Maeve was reaching that satisfying conclusion when someone hit her arm with a violin bow, dragging her out of her thoughts. It reminded her that she was in the music room, with William and Ophelia, where she had been giving them their violin lesson for the past hour. It was usually their mother’s task, but the duchess was out, calling on a sick friend.
“Focus, moony,” Ophelia ordered. Maeve glared at her. Her little sister was a mannerless tomboy, with flamboyant red hair and an alabaster skin scattered with freckles. She didn’t look like any of their siblings, and it seemed she would be quite shorter than the rest of them. It didn’t prevent the girl from imposing herself, and she was very good at getting what she wanted.
“Shut up, red,” Maeve answered, using the nickname their father gave the girl. Ophelia hated it, but tolerated it for the sake of their dad. The girl squinted her eyes and stuck out her tongue at her big sister.
Maeve smiled and tried to remember where they were. The kids were learning a new score, and Maeve had to correct them as they played along.
She made them play it from the start, and as they were doing so, her mind slowly drifted again. She wondered how tonight would be. Would he be there? Would they see each other?
She was wondering how she should act when Ophelia’s voice resonated firmly, whacking her once more with the bow. “That’s it.! If you cannot focus, let’s call it a day,” the girl argued. “We have better things to do.”
Dubious, Maeve raised a brow at her. “Like what?”
“We are learning how to fence,” William chimed in, very proud of himself.
Maeve frowned, being ten and eleven was a bit young to learn how to fence, and she didn’t remember their parents mentioning it. “Who is teaching you?”
“We are teaching ourselves,” Ophelia explained as if it should have been obvious.
Maeve could absolutely imagine them, fighting around their room, breaking things, jumping over furniture… Those two were stubborn daredevils. Worried they might injure themselves, she decided to get to the bottom of the story. “What do you fight with?”
“We stole two fire pokers.” Phee nodded to confirm their brother’s statement.
“That has to stop,” Maeve explained calmly. Before they could protest, and they were clearly going to, she continued. “I will talk to Father so that he pays for actual lessons before one of you loses an eye.” Their eyes widened, and they looked at each other, very excited.
Before she could set them free from the lesson, they both bolted outside, going to fetch their father. Maeve rolled her eyes with a smile and put her violin away, as well as theirs. They quickly came back, dragging a confused duke behind them, each of them holding one hand, a never-ending flow of words coming out of their mouths. Maeve offered her father an apologetic wince. However, as promised, she would get them their fencing lessons. After all, her Papa never refused her anything.
Later that day, Maeve was sitting in the family coach, happy to be William’s and Ophelia’s new favorite sibling. They were going to that dreaded ball, and as usual, she and Ailia were looking out their respective windows, ignoring each other. Their parents had had a change of heart, and were staying home, but not before they had secured a chaperone to escort them. Lady Cranston was an old, old friend of the family, and Maeve seriously wondered if their parents even cared about protecting their daughters’ virtues. Lady Cranston was the worst of them all. Once she arrived at a ball, she stormed to find her group of friends and spent the night with them, ignoring her protegees.
Although Maeve was not in great danger of being publicly dishonored anytime soon, Ailia had a fiancé, and one had to be careful with young couples. Or so she’d heard. There was no way she would say anything about it, though. It wasn’t her business, but she was starting to question her parents’ motives.
Maeve’s thoughts drifted again to Lord Worthington, for the umpteenth time this week. It didn’t seem fair that the man would have such power over her, while she had nothing to put pressure on him. She refused to let him win this little war between them. The last thing she wanted was to give in and end up soiled and compromised, especially by him. She needed her own weapon. What was the thing he feared the most?
Like an epiphany, it hit her. John Delawney. Worthington had made it very clear he didn’t want her to get close to him. His friend was his pressure point. Maeve wasn’t so vindictive that she would go all the way to marrying the man, nor did she want to break his heart, but maybe, she would lead him on a little, only to spite the annoying giant who had so much power over her.
While they kept heading to their destination, she tried to think of ways to use Delawney, without engaging him too much. When they reached the gigantic building that hosted the party they were attending, they waited for the valet to open the doors. Maeve exited first, then Ailia, then Lady Cranston. They entered through the double doors, and before they joined the ballroom, Maeve looked down at her dress, smoothing the silk of her skirts. She was wearing one of her favorites, a midnight blue dress. The changeable taffeta had green reflections, and she loved the iridescent appearance, it reminded her of peacock’s feathers. Maeve and her twin weren’t particularly gifted in the torso area, and her modest mounds were pressed tight under her corset, forming two lovely hills resting above the lace of her fashionable cleavage, which was deeper than what she was used to.
She noticed Ailia, who was also checking her outfit, a light pink muslin dress, and Maeve bit her lip. They really were the Black and the White Swan tonight.
As expected, Lady Cranston hadn’t waited for them, and the twins exchanged a neutral look before moving into the ballroom. It was crowded, and Ailia went her own way as soon as they entered. Maeve tried to ignore the sudden surge of discomfort that flooded her and looked over the guests. She would usually be searching for a quiet spot to disappear to, but tonight, she was trying to see if a certain green-eyed officer and his red-haired friend were among the guests. The baron being taller than most of the people here, the task should have been easy. Alas, she quickly had to accept the fact that the man wasn’t here.
A sigh poured from her pouting lips, but she couldn’t say if it was from disappointment or relief. Probably some of both.
She was about to go find a comfortable chair when a deep, familiar voice, a few inches from her left ear, made her jump.
“Good evening, swan.”
【13】Nocturnal Strolling
Lucian had just arrived with Delawney, and his friend was talking to an acquaintance in the hallway. He had decided to leave him behind and had entered the ballroom where the guests had amassed.
Eager to find her, he’d recognized Lady Langston before even glimpsing at her face. She was wearing a dress with dark tones, which singled her out from the crowd. It was unusual for a young, unmarried woman to wear such colors, but he had to admit it suited her.
Close to the entrance, she was standing with her back to him, the delicate slope of her neck stretched up as she tried to find someone in the crowd. From afar, he admired the enticing curve of her stretched neck. Lucian was tempted to graze the skin where her throat joined her shoulder, wondering how soft it must feel under his rough fingertips. He watched as said shoulders lowered in disappointment when she didn’t find whoever she was looking for.
Deciding that tonight was as good as any to set his new plan in motion, he willed his feet to take him to her. He hadn’t bothered to take his cane, as his knee hadn’t been hurting for a few days now, so his approach was unusually discreet. When he reached his destination, her flowery smell, now familiar, filled his nostrils. Bending slightly, he spoke to her in a low voice.
“Good evening, swan.”
She jumped, surprised, and turned instantly. Her eyes met his, and her cheeks reddened a little. He was still close to her, and she stared at him, tongue-tied. Just like that, he knew she had been reliving, again and again, their exchange at Hyde Park. Exactly like he had.
Her gorgeous features finally regained their composure, and she took a step away from him, setting some acceptable distance between them. “Good evening, my lord.” Looking to his right, something lit up in her eyes and a smile arched her lips. “Mr. Delawney, always a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” answered the man, taking the hand she was extending before kissing it.
Lucian gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling like the third wheel. Before he could impose himself, Delawney offered his arm, and Lady Langston took it. The ginger started talking to her about some random topic, as he guided her away.
Before they got too far, Lady Langston looked over her shoulder and gave Lucian a defying look, before returning her attention to her partner. What was that about? What was the woman up to?
Lucian looked around, annoyed to be already alone, having just arrived. He spotted where the alcohol was and headed there. On his way, he crossed paths with a valet, passing around with a tray full of glasses of champagne. He took one and resumed his course, emptying it before he had reached the refreshments table. Once his well-filled glass of whisky was handed to him, he moved to the large, opened French windows.
With a shoulder leaning on the frame of one, half on the balcony, half in the packed room, he watched as the people inside danced, laughed, talked… His eyes were constantly drawn to a certain dark-haired woman. Delawney wasn’t leaving her side, and they danced twice. Then he left her for a moment and came back with two glasses of something. They drank it, and they danced once more.
It seemed to Lucian she was more and more uncomfortable. Her smiles felt forced, and she was moving uneasily. After their third dance, she said something to John, and he nodded, before escorting her outside, to the balcony. From his venture point, he saw Lady Langston taking deep, calming breaths, a thin layer of sweat covering her face and chest. She had her hands clenched into fists, resting on the stone balustrade. She was having a minor panic attack, he guessed.
Lucian was familiar with this. The fear of crowds was common amongst military men. When you had been trampled during a battle by dozens of men, or waiting for your impending death in overcrowded battles, or fought for your life in the middle of a battlefield, unable to move correctly in the mass, you tended to get anxious around large groups. Obviously, she hadn’t been anywhere near a battlefield, but she had faced crowded parties with judgmental hypocrites, had endured the pressure of their society and peers, suffered endless criticism… In his opinion, she had faced things almost as brutal as him, as he would prefer confronting soldiers rather than those people.
Lucian felt like a voyeur, spying on his best friend. He was about to get back in when he saw the lady turn around and put an inviting hand on John’s arm. His friend hesitated an instant, and when he put his hand on her shoulder, bending slightly, Lucian growled, pushed himself off the wall, and went to them rapidly. Before John had the time to kiss her, Lucian coughed a little, startling them. Delawney moved back, and Lady Langston turned to the balustrade again.
Before Lucian could say something, Delawney spoke. “Lady Langston wasn’t feeling good, and she needed some fresh air.” He paused, looked at Lucian strangely, and a small smirk appeared on his lips. “I promised the men a round of whist, can you please keep her company while I go?”
Lucian wasn’t duped. He knew John wanted him to get along with her. If Delawney had any idea of the lewd things his best friend wanted to do to his prospective bride, he would never leave the two of them alone. Seeing that the lady was frustrated her little maneuver didn’t get through, Lucian gave his friend a nod, wanting to be alone with her. John smiled, thinking he had won this round, and left to join his friends.
The balcony was large, and although they weren’t alone, it was dark. The other couples present were too far to distinguish what was happening. Lucian went next to her, facing the gardens too, and he gripped her arm, menacingly. “What are you doing?”
She smiled wickedly, not meeting his eyes. “What do you mean, my lord?”
“I will not let you use him for whatever this is.”
She finally turned and faced him, a scorching fire burning in her icy eyes. “And there I was, thinking ‘whatever this is’, was precisely about Delawney.”
“I am warning you, swan, I have faced worse opponents than you. People who aren’t among the living any longer.”
She smiled, amused by his attempt at intimidating her. “Yes, we have all heard of your exploits, my lord. However, while you excel at war, this is my world. I was born into it. You may be an outstanding soldier, but I am a great socialite.”
“Really? Is that why every time I turn around, you are alone?” he asked, trying to be hurtful.
It worked, and her assurance flinched. “At least, I am not fleeing all this because I prefer the killings,” she answered with bitterness. “Because it is the real reason why you are going back, isn’t it?”
Lucian was taken by surprise. He didn’t know what to answer. He hadn’t been thinking as to why he wanted to get back to the front, he only knew he needed to. Uncomfortable, he released her, turned around and leaned on the balustrade, his lower back pressed on the cold stone. He crossed his arms and watched from afar the dancers. Patiently, she looked up at his profile, waiting for his response.
“I am going back because it is the only thing I am good at.” He paused, and she registered his words, swallowing the information. “It is not the killing I crave. It’s the strategy, the thinking, the sense of doing something good. War gives meaning to my life.”
“Delawney didn’t speak of your departure. Did you not tell him yet?”
“I haven’t, no. I’m not sure he would understand.”
She remained silent for a moment and looked away, her eyes on the garden again. When she finally spoke, her voice wasn’t as aggressive as before. “Isn’t it sad your sole goal is to kill people?” She slowly turned her gaze to him, and their eyes met once more. “Maybe you should find meaning in something else.”
Looking away again, she offered him an enticing view of her delicate profile. Her tone hadn’t been suggestive in any way; she wasn’t flirting, nor was she trying to hurt him. She was worried.
Apparently deciding she’d indulged him with her presence for long enough, she left him there, heading for the gardens. Lucian stayed still for a moment, watching her as she got down the flight of stairs to go to the garden. This woman confused him. He didn’t know how to act with her. He was attracted to her as he had never been to any other woman. But she was far from being like all the other women, so the game wasn’t the same as the one he knew. Anyhow, he had been out of the game for so long, he wasn’t sure he knew how to play any longer. Furthermore, it wasn’t one that should be played with innocents.
He still had to, for John’s sake.
He watched as her silhouette retreated in the darkness and realized it could be a perfect opportunity for him. Also, it wasn’t safe to let her wander alone outside. He quickly moved and caught up with her.
“I know you don’t need one, but won’t your chaperone worry?” he asked when he reached her.
“I am confident Lady Cranston has already forgotten who she was here with.”
“Lady Cranston? The old bat is still allowed to be in charge of young women?”
“You know her?”
“She used to chaperone two of my sisters. Both of them found their husbands under her mediocre supervision.”
Lady Langston chuckled a little, and he enjoyed the sound of it, and it meant her guard was slowly getting down. “How many siblings do you have?” she asked.
“I have four older sisters, all married, and eleven nieces, and nephews. No, wait, twelve now,” he corrected. “And I had an older brother, who died ten months ago.” He had never been close with any of his siblings, but still, losing his brother had been quite painful.
“I heard about him. I am sorry for your loss.”
She seemed honest, her tone gentle. Lucian shrugged his shoulders. “I reckon the chances of me surviving six years of war, while Kevin didn’t manage to stay alive with his idle life here, were quite slim.”
“‘There is no such thing as chance; and what seem to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny,’” she quoted.
He recognized the words, but couldn’t recall their author. A German one, of that he was sure. “You think it was fated? I was supposed to become a baron?” he wondered, curious to know if she believed in this kind of thing.
“No one can tell what fate has in store for us, but here you are. Despite you not making any effort to survive.”
“It isn’t like I was running around, asking to be killed,” he defended himself.
“Hmm…”
He smiled, unable to hide his delectation. She did care about him, after all. “Would you miss me if I died in Belgium?”
She stopped in her tracks and gave him a dark look. Lucian understood he had gone too far when she didn’t answer and resumed her walk, ignoring him.
“Wait,” he called, catching up with her. She didn’t stop. He grabbed her gloved arm over her elbow. “Maeve, wait!”
She finally stopped and met his eyes. Her irritation was still there, and he didn’t know what to say next. He decided maybe he should reassure her first. “I won’t be in any kind of danger this time.”
“And yet, you told my brother one could never be sure with war.”
“I promise then. I will not die.”
“Why are you telling me this? I barely know you, my lord. I do not care for you! You don’t even care about your own survival. Why should I? You mean nothing to me. You do not matter.”
Lucian could have been hurt by her spiteful tirade, but he noticed the most subtle detail. Her chin was slightly trembling, as if she were seconds away from bursting into tears.
Feeling a sudden tenderness for her, he lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek. She tried to move back, but he was still holding her arm. He slipped his hand slowly and reached behind her neck, the thin stranded hair tickling his palm. She wasn’t struggling any longer, waiting for his next move. Slowly, she looked up. Her incredible eyes ascended to his mouth, where they stopped an instant, before meeting his.
All of a sudden, all notions of his plan fell to oblivion. He was going to kiss her. Not for John’s sake, not for his plan, not for any other reason than the fact he wanted to kiss this god-forsaken woman. She was looking at him almost defiantly, daring him to do it, and Lucian wasn’t a man to refuse a challenge. Still descending slowly, he pulled her to him, bending to meet her halfway. He witnessed the surprise on her face when she understood he was going to kiss her, and before he reached her, she closed the few inches left between them and pressed her lips on his; taking control of the moment.
He held back a growl when the faint contact of their mouths sent shivers through his entire body. Releasing her arm, he let his hand glide down to rest on her hip, pulling her closer.
There was no way he could ever get enough of this woman.
【14】Wanting More
Maeve wondered for an instant how she had gotten into this position. A moment ago she was angry at the man, and now she was considering the kiss he seemed about to bestow upon her. As much as she wanted to deny it, her interest in the man was stronger than she would admit. The idea of him leaving for war and finding his end there was an alarmingly painful one.
If he perished in Belgium, who other than him would challenge as he did? If she never saw him again, which man would send sparks through her whole frame every time he touched her? Lucian Thorne was one of a kind, and she refused to imagine what her world would be like without him in it, somehow.
When he bent slowly, careful not to frighten her by being too bold, Maeve’s eyes dropped from his confusingly hypnotizing green gaze to his appealing lips. The memory of her first and only kiss flashed in her mind, and she was highly aware that kissing the man before her would be an experience entirely different from Lord Ackley’s sloppy and unrequired attempt at swooning her.
Maybe it would actually prove disappointing, in which case the spell this man seemed to have over her would probably break. There was truly one only way to find out.
Impulsively, she pushed herself on her toes, closing the narrow distance that separated their lips.
As their mouths met, the faint contact made something resonate deep within her. It was as if sparks exploded within her, confusing tingles wreaking havoc in her entire body. Needing more of this delicious sensation, she pressed her mouth harder onto his unmoving lips, determined to test the limits of what her body could endure.
Lucian’s hand left her arm, his warmth replaced by the cool breeze of the night, and it traveled down her body to seize her hips, before he pressed her harder against her, apparently needing more too. To think they’d been arguing moments ago, and now she was willingly pressed on his body, his mouth on hers, slowly igniting sensations she didn’t know existed.
The initial shock of their kiss, and the wave of pleasure that had followed passed, and she now wanted more. She needed more. Greedily, she hooked her arms around his neck and lifted higher on the tip of her feet, pressing her lips harder on his, tilting her head to the side to feel more. A low growl rolled in his chest to end in her mouth, and she felt his grip on her neck and hip tighten. Even that simple gesture, of him losing his control a little, sent a shiver that ran through her frame.
More. She needed so much more.
Scared by the thought, she moved back, detaching her lips from his. She couldn’t have more of whatever this was. Their behavior was already highly improper as it was, so she most certainly couldn’t indulge in more of this ludicrous moment. Her eyes crossed his, and she wondered if she had the same steamy, unfocused gaze. When she looked down at his tempting lips, her intense craving for them respawned from its ashes, and she forgot all about holding back. A little more of it couldn’t really hurt, right?
Without wasting a moment, she tilted her head the other way, before kissing him again from a new angle. The same sparks ran through her, as tried to kiss him more thoroughly, to drag out more sensation. Soon felt frustrated, as if she was missing something. Why didn’t this feel like enough? Why did she want more? She let out a helpless moan, and it seemed to unlock something in him.
Groaning, he squeezed her neck in his hand and pulled her closer, plastering her body against his, as his lips parted slightly. Both shock and pleasure spread through her as she felt the warm and wet touch of his tongue on her closed lips. She barely had enough time to register the sensation, and he did it again, coaxing her into following his lead.
This. This was what she’d been missing all along.
Desperately wanting to taste him too, she unlocked her jaw and timidly darted her tongue out, licking his opened upper lip. He let out another groan, his hand on her hip clenched in a bruising grip, and before she could prevent it, she felt his tongue slip past the barrier of her teeth, sampling the inside of her mouth, meeting hers on its very own territory.
For an instant, she thought she should be shocked, that she shouldn’t allow him such liberties. This was too intimate, too bold, too daring… But there was no way she would deny herself the pleasure she was getting from it.
She didn’t know what he was doing to her, but she had an acute sense of her starving body. Her breasts were feeling heavier, and their sensitive, pebbled tips brushed against his chest through the fabric of their clothes. Shivers kept running down her spine, and all of this pleasure seemed to converge toward one specific area. Between her legs, an urge was rapidly rising, insistent and demanding. She wanted to appease the sensations down there, but she had no idea how to do it.
His warm tongue invaded her again, and when it retreated, hers followed, entering his mouth. They explored each other like this for a moment, their kiss getting wilder with each passing second. Abandoning her neck and hip, both of his hands moved down to grab her behind. He pressed and kneaded her soft flesh, making her mad with need. This too, she shouldn’t have indulged, but when he lifted her slightly and pressed her aching core against a hard shape at his groin, the pleasure was so intense she moaned in his mouth. That was what she needed to appease the tension in her loins.
It took her longer than it should have to register what she was pressing herself into, and when she did, a shameful complaint escaped her lips. Her needy flesh was pressed against his hard manhood, and she couldn’t stop her hips from grinding against it, trying to lessen the imperious sensations that demanded satisfaction. It worked a little, but she still wanted more. So much more.
Sliding her arms from his neck, she let her hands run through his hair, weaving her fingers in his dark locks, bringing him closer. She was thankful he managed to care for their balance, because her legs had given up a while ago, and she solely stood thanks to his strong hands holding her against him.
Despite being so lost in passion, she heard someone laugh somewhere in the night, and she realized anybody could see them, as they were standing in the middle of the path. She managed to turn her head away, ripping her lips from his, her heated face suddenly exposed to the cold air of the night.
“Lucian,” she moaned, enjoying how it felt to say his name out loud for the first time. From his reaction, she could tell he had enjoyed it too, as his hands pressed her harder on his protrusion. She held back a scream as it reached a particularly sensitive spot.
Not ready to let go of her, his lips dropped to the spot where her jaw met her neck, right under her ear, and then trailed down to the curve where her shoulder started. She let out a trembling sigh, and his mouth explored her soft flesh, leaving paths of wet, steamy opened mouth kisses, letting her feel his tongue, nibbling at her flesh. Remembering they should stop, she let go of his hair and tried to push on his shoulders.
“Lucian, someone could-” she stopped abruptly as one of his hands had left her behind to cup one of her breasts, pressing the soft mound in his palm, teasing its sensitive tip. The sensation was so pleasant she forgot what she was about to say.
He stayed like this for a while, his hand seducing her into submission. He found the aroused peak and pinched it between two fingers, drawing yet another muffled cry from her. When she felt one of his fingers slipping under the seam of her decolletage, trying to pull it down, wanting to expose her flesh to his sight, her mind snapped back into a functioning state.
“My lord, stop. Someone could come,” she insisted, pushing harder on his shoulders.
He groaned in disapproval, but his grip on her loosened, and little by little, his kisses on her neck came to a halt. As soon as he let go of her, after one last kiss on her shoulder, she regretted her sudden properness and missed their intimacy. Maybe she should drag him into a dark corner of the garden and demand that he grant her more of these lewd sensations.
They were both panting a little, standing awkwardly in front of each other, two feet apart. She dared to look up and saw how overheated he was, his cheekbones pink, his eyes glimmering into the night, his hair disheveled… She was tempted to throw herself into his arms again, to set aside all that was proper and beg him to take care of the pulsating need between her legs. He was observing her with the same attention, his expression rough, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed.
After a moment, he looked away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That was unexpected.”
Just like that, the foggy, lustful state she was in vanished, and she realized what she had done. She had kissed Lucian Thorne, whom she had decided not to let win, barely two hours ago. Now she was paying the price, and he had the upper hand. Or did he? She had known she was attracted to him, and judging from what had happened, he was attracted to her too. She wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t know what happened to men when they desired a woman, and if the hard bump at his crotch - the very one she had been shamelessly grinding on - was any indication, he wanted her back. A lot.
Seeing her with Delawney probably made him twice as mad as she’d thought. For one, he didn’t want his friend to end up with a “woman like her”, and for second, he wanted her for himself. Oh, that knowledge was almost worth what had happened.
Before she had time to rejoice about it, he ruined her small victory by opening his infuriating mouth. “So, I guess you aren’t a frigid wench after all.”
Oh, no. He hadn’t… Impulsively, she tried to slap him, but he intercepted her hand mid-air, grabbing her wrist in his clenched fist. “Not twice, swan,” he growled. They stared at each other, and she tried to pass through her eyes all the hurtful, hateful things she thought of him. At least, she tried.
Little by little, her anger melted under the intensity of his gaze, and she soon forgot how much she hated him, drowning in his eyes. He seemed to calm down too. His grip became looser, his eyes not as heinous, but conveying a different kind of danger.
At the same time, they both heard someone approaching, the footsteps rendered noisy by the gravel of the path. The baron let go of her hand, and they both distanced themselves from each other. A dark silhouette appeared in the corner before them, and as it came closer, she recognized its owner.
“There you are,” said Delawney. “They are about to cut the cake. I thought you two might want to come back in for it.”
Delawney was now near them and was oblivious to the tension between her and the baron. He didn’t notice the messy hair of his friend nor her lips, which were probably swollen and red. She realized had he come a few minutes earlier, he would have found them in a very compromising position.
It was only when no one answered him that Delawney noticed something was off. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” they both answered at the same time.
Maeve gave Lucian a spiteful look before continuing. “The baron was telling me about his upcoming departure for Belgium,” she lied to the newcomer. She didn’t look at Worthington, but she felt his eyes glare at her in anger.
Delawney looked at his best friend, confused. “Why are you going?”
The baron took a moment to answer, searching for the right words, probably internally cursing her. “I was asked to rejoin the ranks of the Duke of Wellington.”
“Did you not give them enough, already?”
Deciding that now was the best time to leave, she excused herself, ignoring the disapproval in the baron’s eyes, and went back to the house, leaving the two friends alone to settle this matter. She wasn’t a coward, not usually, but she didn’t know what to do or say with Lucian Thorne, and it scared her.
She quickly found her chaperone and pretended to suffer from a splitting headache. The woman was clearly not happy to be forced to leave her friends early, but she didn’t. The both of them went to fetch Ailia, who was talking with a group of friends.
Maeve watched as her twin saluted them politely and then went to look for her fiancé. They followed, and when Maeve saw Everson chastely kiss her sister’s hand, she wondered if Ailia and her betrothed had ever shared what she just had with Worthington.
Probably, she figured. They were after all engaged, and if even Maeve couldn’t control herself around a man she despised, she imagined a newly engaged couple had to be even worse.
Later that evening, when comfortably tucked in the bed, Maeve couldn’t help but rethink the kiss, over and over. How was she supposed to see him again without blushing profusely? The memory of it was engraved in her mind forever. When she focused, she could still feel the brush of his tongue, the taste of whisky he’d had, his hands on her behind, his long and strong fingers digging in the soft flesh, almost bruising it.
He had been lost in passion as much as her, and she didn’t know how he would act the next time they would see each other. Personally, she was leaning toward pretending the whole thing never happened, and she hoped he would do the same. They could blame the alcohol, the romantic call of the moon, a bite from an exotic insect that robbed them of their common sense… Anything really.
However, none of them had been drunk, the moon had been hidden behind clouds, and she didn’t remember getting bitten. What had happened had been solely them, their will, and their desires.
She so desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, to have an opinion on what she should do, but she had no one. She couldn’t talk about this with her friends, for they enjoyed spreading gossip too much, and she was certainly not going to Ailia. There was Betsie, her chambermaid, but she was too embarrassed to confess all of this to her.
With a groan, Maeve pressed her face in the pillow, cursing Lucian Thorne.
Damn him, with his smoldering green eyes, his tempting lips, his mysterious scar, and dashing features. Could he not have been as harmless as any other man?
Even if she didn’t want to admit it, something deep inside of her was thankful he was the way he was, because at least once in her life, she would have experienced passion.
Once in her life, she would have known what it was like to be thoroughly kissed.
【15】Family Dinner
When Lucian came out of 10 Downing Street, he was in a foul mood. He had confirmed with Liverpool he would accept Wellington’s demand.
A boat with fresh men and supplies was scheduled to leave Douvres on the seventh of June, and three days after that, he would be with the rest of the officers, near a small town called Waterloo. His decision to enroll again, which had seemed like a great idea a few days ago, was now tainted by the fact that his best friend wasn’t talking to him anymore, mad at him for risking his life again.
Lucian knew it might not sound rational that a sane person would willingly subject themselves to war again. Especially given how much he had already suffered from it. As much as he wanted to blame Lady Langston and her low blow, he knew there was no way John would have taken the news well.
His body reacted instantly at the thought of the young woman. Even days later, the vivid memories of her still haunted him. For a moment that had seemed to last hours, he’d lost himself with her in his arms. Had she not stopped him, he would have embraced the burning passion that possessed them, until they were both left panting and satisfied.
He had been surprised by how responsive she had proved to be. He usually wasn’t that forward, especially since she was innocent, but he hadn’t been in control of anything, her moans and sighs making him mad with need. When they had stopped, he had been so disturbed by his reaction to her, by what had happened, that he had impulsively decided to insult her, deciding it was better for them to go back to resenting each other, rather than this confusing state.
After Hyde Park, he had guessed she was attracted to him, but what they had shared was much more than a common attraction. It had been pure, unaltered passion, the type one did not come across often. He couldn’t help but wonder what this meant, what this could lead to. Lady Maeve Langston, the Black Swan, one of the finest, most beautiful women in England, wanted him with fierce intensity, and the feeling was mutual.
How did one resist such temptation?
Shaking the thought of her out of his head, he entered his coach and signaled the driver by knocking on the ceiling with his cane. As scheduled, they would be heading straight to his sister’s house. Tonight, he had been invited by Harriet to dine with them.
He usually found a random excuse to refuse her invitations, but with his upcoming departure, it seemed appropriate to visit her. She had been married for almost nineteen years to a gentleman who dabbled in the import of Italian and Greek delicacies.
If the conversation was never meaningful during those dinners, at least the wine was more than acceptable, as he favored bottles from Tuscany, which his brother-in-law had an abundance of. The coach arrived rapidly, and he didn’t wait for the valet to get out.
His sister lived in a lovely house of modest size in Chelsea. They also had a house on the east coast where they spent most of their summers. Lucian reached the green door and knocked on the surface with his cane.
A maid opened and invited him in. Harrison, his 16 years old nephew, saw him and came to greet him with a handshake. The boy had grown two inches since the last time he had seen him. Lucian ruffled his hair, a teasing gesture that lingered from since the young man was only a boy. As they headed toward the living room, Lucian asked him about his studies, using this moment alone before they were with the rest of the family.
The room was quite large, considering the rest of the house, and decorated with taste. High walls were covered in wallpapers with various tones of yellow, and the curtains were a light shade of blue. The windows behind them offered a view of the small yard on the backside of the house. Two large couches were facing one another, with a wood and marble coffee table between them. The only other pieces of furniture were two large shelves filled with books, a massive sideboard, and a cart of alcohol. There were a few paintings made by her sister hanging around the room, representing the eastern English countryside. He had two of those in his own terrace, here in London.
His sister, a petite blonde with a plump silhouette, smiled when she saw him and came to give him a long and tight hug. When she let go of him, Lucian saluted his brother-in-law, Edgar, and kissed Lillian, twelve years old, on the forehead. Arthur was the youngest, eight, and he showed him his collection of wooden toy soldiers.
Lucian accepted the glass of limoncello Edgar offered, and they all talked and drank in the living room. Edgar told him how he had received several barrels of the best wine Tuscany could produce, which they would sample tonight. To his great surprise, Lucian was enjoying the moment. It felt good to be among relatives, and he was glad to spend some time with his sister, whom he didn’t know very well, despite her being his closest sibling in terms of age.
They moved to the dining room, which was decorated with the same care, in tones of blue and green, with more paintings of landscapes. The large table could seat twelve people, so there wasn’t much room left for anything else but a Welsh dresser.
A succulent three-course meal was served. First, a creamy butternut soup, followed by a roasted Guinea fowl, with a wild mushrooms sauce and sauteed potatoes. The dessert was a delicious caramelized apple truffle. The wine was indeed excellent, and not once did Lucian regret coming.
At some point during the evening, the children were sent off to bed, and Edgar followed them to supervise. Alone with his sister, Lucian didn’t know how to tell her about Belgium. He poured more wine in his glass and leaned down on his chair, observing the deep ruby coat of the liquid, making it twirl in the glass.
“What is it?” Harriet asked. Lucian gazed up at her, confused. “I know something is wrong. What are you not telling me?”
Surprised that his sister could read him so well, he put down his glass. “I am going to Belgium. I was asked by Wellington himself to come back.”
His sister frowned, worried. “Did you not get enough medals the first time around?”
“I am not doing it for the medals or the glory.”
“This is ludicrous. Your knee has barely healed. Did you think of mother? Of how she would feel if you passed away this time?”
“She would be fine.”
“No, she would not. And you know it. It would crush her to lose another son, so soon after her firstborn and her husband.”
“Well, I guess I won’t die then,” he proposed, sarcastic. Harriet rolled her eyes and grabbed her glass before downing what was left of it in one take.
“We have been talking about you, you know. We wonder if you are ever going to settle down, marry, have children…”
Lucian didn’t need to know whom she meant by ‘we’. He knew she was talking about his other sisters. “Kevin was seventeen years older than me, and I cannot remember any of you scolding him about this.”
“Kevin was the eldest. We couldn’t really say much. However, you are our little brother. Of course, we are going to worry about you. Also, as much as I loved him, Kevin was an idiot. You, on the other hand, are smart, and we would hate for all of this to go to waste.”
“It isn’t going to waste.”
“It will if you die,” she insisted.
“I won’t.”
“You might.”
Understanding he wouldn’t win this argument, Lucian reached for his glass and took a few sips. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he decided to give his sister something to distract her, a bone to chew on. A white lie never hurt anyone.
“I met someone,” he announced, thinking of Maeve Langston.
His sister instantly reacted, leaning forward in her chair. “A woman?” Lucian nodded. “A woman you want to marry?”
Although he had no intention of marrying her, Lucian had to make it plausible to his sister, so he added to the lie. “I don’t know yet. It is too soon to tell.”
“Do I know her?” she then asked. Lucian nodded again. “Who is she?”
“Were you never taught that curiosity killed the cat, Harry?” he teased her. When she gave him a menacing glare, he smiled genuinely. “I am not telling you yet, but if it ever gets serious, you will be the first one to know her name,” he promised. It seemed to satisfy his sister, who relaxed a little.
“Is she pretty?”
“Pretty isn’t the word for it. She is beyond beautiful.”
The information thrilled Harriet, who then nodded mindlessly, trying to think of another question to ask. “Does she have a nice, amiable personality?”
Lucian almost laughed at the concept of an amiable Maeve Langston. “Not really. Far from it, actually.”
“Good. She will challenge you then. You need someone who can put you back in your place when you get too pretentious.”
“I don’t get pretentious.” Harriet looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, clearly making him understand he did get pompous.
The silence between them stretched. When she spoke again, the question disturbed him. “Do you love her?”
Lucian frowned. He was attracted to her, physically, and when he wasn’t insulting her, making her hostile, he enjoyed her company. She was smart and proud, and behind her snobbish facade, he knew she had more to reveal. But did he love her? No. You couldn’t love someone you had only met a few weeks ago. He desired her with every bone in his body, that much was clear, but he wasn’t foolish enough to mistake lust for love.
He noticed his sister was observing him with care as he was having his internal debate. “I don’t know,” he lied, still aiming to distract his sister.
“Not yet, you mean.” Lucian squinted his eyes at her. Maybe he should have thought about this strategy more thoroughly. He would never hear the end of it now. Also, when she would tell his three other sisters, they would harass him with daily letters filled with questions.
Edgar finally came back, and he sat down next to his wife. “What did I miss?”
“Lucian is going back to war. And he is in love with a woman.”
“I never said I loved her,” Lucian corrected.
“Your eyes did.”
“They did not, because I’m not in love with her.”
Harriet sighed, annoyed by his stubbornness. “You are right. I imagine if you loved her, you wouldn’t go to fight a war that doesn’t need you anymore.”
“I guess it does need me since I was specifically required to join the war effort,” Lucian countered.
“How many lives can Napoleon have?” his sister asked, irritated. “Mark my words, Lucian, this is going to be the last war against the French emperor. There is no way he comes back after this one.” She paused, angrily fidgeting her empty glass. “You are going to risk your life for nothing. They don’t need you there. But we need you here. Who will take care of mother if you don’t make it back? The title, the rent, the houses… All of it is going to cousin Ernie, and he despises us.”
“I already told you I wouldn’t die.”
“And why should I believe that you will, in fact, be careful this time?”
“Because I promised her ,” Lucian blurted out in the heat of the moment.
During their exchange, the tone had gone loud, almost yelling, and the room was suddenly very silent and still. Edgar was looking at them, confused and bewildered.
Just like that, the truth mixed with his lies. Yes, he had promised Maeve he wouldn’t die. And he had meant it, for her sake.
“I should go,” Lucian declared, rising up from his chair, upset to have revealed so much to his sister. Harriet and her husband stood too, and Lucian shook his brother-in-law’s hand. His sister insisted on seeing him out, and she helped him with his coat.
Grabbing his cane, which he had left at the entrance, he turned to her. “Is there any way you wouldn’t tell Lisa, Becca, and Annie about the woman?”
As she opened the door, Harriet gave him a predatory smile that worried him. “The letters are practically ready in my head. It will smoothen the fact that you are off to war again.”
Sighing, Lucian shook his head and bent to hug her, kissing her on her forehead, before disappearing into the night.
【16】Peer Pressure
Maeve wasn’t ready to go out in society again, risking meeting the baron. Barely a week had passed since their kiss, and she couldn’t face him yet. Her skin still tingled when she recalled how his hands had been pressing her body, and her mouth still remembered the raspy touch of his tongue. It was too soon for her to see him and not blush all over.
She didn’t have a choice, though. The party tonight was held by a very close friend of her parents. They were here to celebrate the seventy-fifth birthday of Wolfgang Schwarz, a renowned violinist and composer, who used to mentor her father in his youth. From what she had understood, the old man had played a role in her parents ending up together.
Maeve knew the Schwarz family well. They had a daughter barely older than her, Anita, and she was her closest friend. They both shared a talent for music and had grown up together. When Mrs. Schwarz had become ill, about four years ago, the three youngest Schwarz children, including Anita, had all come to live with them for a while. When the unavoidable had happened, and the poor woman had passed away, they had stayed a while longer, their father being too devastated by the loss to care for his family. He had lost his muse, his musical partner, and the love of his life.
Now that the mourning was done and the pain had passed, Mr. Schwarz solely lived for his children and his art, producing some of his best compositions, which he all dedicated to his late wife.
Maeve was actually excited to see her best friend, whom she hadn’t seen in six months. As soon as she arrived with her parents and her twin, she scanned the crowd to find Anita.
Of course, chance would have it differently, and the first person she recognized among the guests was Worthington. She looked at his profile from afar, and she felt something flutter inside of her. As if drawn by her eyes, the baron turned to her, and before she could look away, their eyes met. She broke the contact first by averting her eyes swiftly, embarrassed by her body’s reaction to the man. The exchange hadn’t lasted longer than a second, but she had felt her skin burn from the intensity of his gaze, and she knew an obvious redness was rising from her cleavage, all the way to her cheeks.
Why couldn’t she have controlled herself? Why did she have to let him kiss her and kiss him back? Now she was feeling like a loose woman, having accorded him such intimacies.
The room was crowded, and she had the faint hope they could spend the entire evening without crossing each other’s path. Before she had the time to dwell on it, a feminine form wrapped her arms around her from behind. Recognizing the lavender scent, Maeve turned around to face her friend.
“Oh, Maeve!” Anita excitedly exclaimed. “You have no idea of how much I have missed you.”
Maeve hugged her back, holding her tightly against her chest. Anita was blonde, with a slender silhouette of average height. She was pretty, rather than beautiful, but there was a certain something to her that made her positively charming.
If Anita hadn’t found a husband yet, it was because she held a complicated place in society. Her family held no title nor great riches, but they frequented the highest spheres. It was hard to find a suitor when most girls around you were more appealing to eligible bachelors.
Maeve finally let go of her friend and moved back to look at her. “So, how was Germany?”
Anita had been sent for six months to live with an aunt in Berlin. Although the purpose of the trip wasn’t official, Maeve knew she had been sent there with the hope she would find a husband. The fact that she was back, without one at her arm, or a ring on her finger, meant the plan had failed.
“It was very austere. I swear Maeve, those people don’t know the meaning of the word ‘fun’.”
Maeve laughed at how annoyed her friend seemed. “At least, your German is fluent now.”
“Who wants to speak German fluently? This language is as barbarous as its people are stern. Why couldn’t my father be French or Italian? Even Spanish, like your mother, would have been better.”
Maeve smiled uncomfortably. She hated keeping secrets from her best friend, but she could never tell her her mother was not, in fact, a Spanish Lady, but a Gypsy nobody.
Ignoring Maeve’s uneasiness, Anita took her arm and guided her to a couple of chairs that faced the room. “You have to tell me everything I have missed for the past six months. Don’t leave out anything!”
“Well, not much has happened here, you know, it is the same as ever. Except Ailia is engaged.”
“Yes, I heard! How did that happen? I thought the two of you were supposed to go live in Dorset.”
“Ailia met a man, Thomas Everson, Viscount Hampden. And they are going to get married on the 12th of August.”
“Is he good for her?”
“He is… average, I think.”
“So what are you going to do now?” asked Anita, worried.
“I still intend to go to Dorset.” When her friend gave her a confused look, Maeve felt the need to defend her choice. “It will just be quieter, that is all. Also, I might not even end up alone. Liam asked me if he could join, arguing he would never marry, because ‘girls are annoying’.”
Anita let out a throaty laugh. “Oh no, trust me, that boy is going to break hearts when he grows up.”
“Then maybe, if none of those idiots ever realize what a catch you are, and ask for your hand, you can join me?” Maeve attempted, hopeful.
Anita gave her an apologetic look. “I am sorry Vee, but if there is one thing I have always known is that I want a large family, with many children.”
Maeve pouted, turning her attention back to the crowd. “What a shame we cannot reproduce amongst women,” she complained.
“Oh, we would have the most perfect children. So, how are things between you and Ailia?”
Maeve didn’t answer right away. She looked at her sister, who was mingling with a few friends, wondering how she could explain the situation to Anita without passing for a childish idiot. “We aren’t on speaking terms,” she finally told her best friend.
“For how long?”
“Over four months.”
Anita frowned. “Because she fell in love?”
“Because she betrayed me.”
Anita stayed silent for a while, looking at Ailia too. When she spoke again, her words were carefully chosen. “In my entire life, I have never seen two people as close as you two are. I feel like she shouldn’t have to choose between you and the man she loves.” Anita took a break, waiting for her words to sink in. “You know, the heart doesn’t have a limit. She can still love you as much as she did and also love someone else.”
Maeve frowned, understanding what her friend meant. “It has been so long now, I don’t know how to get back to the way it was before.”
“Just talk to her. She is your sister. She will forgive you. Furthermore, she is more sensible and wise than you,” Anita teasingly added. Maeve gave her a light hit with her elbow, making her laugh. “Have you two received the partitions I sent you?”
“Yes, I learned it as you asked, and I heard Ailia practice it too.”
Anita had planned a little surprise for her father’s birthday. Before her mother had passed away, she had written one last piece for her husband, sending it to Anita in a letter. In the months that had followed the woman’s death, when the pain had faded enough, Ailia, Maeve, and Anita had worked on it, to offer it to Mr. Schwarz, as instructed. It had been written to be played by a piano, a violin, and a cello, which were their preferred instruments, and it wasn’t a coincidence. However, Anita had judged it to be too early for her father to hear it.
Finally, Anita believed her father was ready to hear it, and she had sent their parts to the twins, asking them to relearn the scores for tonight. Maeve would play the violin, Ailia the piano, and Anita the cello.
“I wish we could have practiced all together, beforehand, but I fear my little surprise would be exposed if we did now,” Anita pointed out. Maeve nodded, agreeing it would be a shame to ruin it so close to the revelation.
They both stayed silent for a moment, observing the guests, and Anita turned abruptly. “I cannot hold it any longer. Who is that man?” she asked, gesturing discreetly in a direction. Maeve looked at the shown spot, and among the guests, she saw Lucian Thorne talking to Delawney. Maeve felt her cheeks warm up, mortified her friend could learn about that.
“What man?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know what her friend meant.
Anita rolled her eyes, not duped. “The tall one, with the cane and the smoldering intensity. Ever since we sat down, he keeps looking in our direction, and I know it is not me he is coveting.”
Maeve’s embarrassment doubled up, and she knew her entire face was red now. There was no way she could pretend she didn’t know him any longer. “His name is Lucian Thorne, Lord Worthington. He has a barony in Bristol.”
Anita smiled, excitedly. “Now that we know who he is, why is he looking at you like he wants to rip your dress from your—” Flustered beyond words, Maeve tried to shut her friend up by pressing her hand over her mouth.
“Anita!” she scolded. She felt her friend’s smile grow even wider under her palm and saw how her eyes glimmered with amusement. Slowly retrieving her hand, Maeve looked around to make sure no one had heard. “What did they do to you in Germany?”
“I was so bored for six months. I need some distraction now. So tell me, why is the man undressing you with his eyes from the other side of the room?”
Maeve looked in the direction of said man, and their eyes crossed for an instant before he looked away, displeased to have been caught staring at her. She bent to Anita and confessed with a low voice, “The baron and I may have… kissed.”
Her friend shrieked with excitement and gave her a very pleased smile. “And there you were, pretending nothing had happened in my absence! When was that?”
“Last Saturday.”
Anita bounced a little on her chair. “So it is very fresh. That is why he cannot take his eyes off.” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Introduce me to him!”
“No. No, I am serious.”
“Me too. Let’s go.” Anita stood up, taking her hand and forcing her to follow. Maeve didn’t want to make a scene, so she tried to resist as discreetly as she could, but Anita was determined to win this one. Before she could prevent it, they were both in front of Worthington and Delawney.
Maeve glared at her friend with annoyance and then looked up at the two men. The baron had his usual rigid expression, and his friend was looking at her with unmasked delight.
“Lady Langston,” said Delawney, “always a pleasure.”
“Thank you.”
She stood there, forcing herself to look as confident as always, trying to ignore how close she was to the man she had shared a passionate embrace with. When she realized something was off, her embarrassment doubled. Both men were looking at her, waiting for her to introduce them to her friend.
“Oh, right! This is Miss Schwarz, the daughter of our host.” The men bowed slightly, and Maeve turned to her friend. “Anita, those are Mr. Delawney and Lord Worthington.” Anita curtsied, barely holding back a grin. Oh, she was so proud of herself.
“I have to say, Miss Schwarz, I am a great admirer of your father’s work,” Worthington declared, surprising Maeve by how sociable he sounded.
“Are you a music enthusiast, my lord?” Anita asked.
“I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I can always appreciate a good melody.”
“Have you ever heard how captivating Maeve is with a violin?”
Maeve’s eyes opened wide, and she discreetly pinched her friend’s waist. What on earth was she doing? Lord Worthington would have no doubt she had told someone about their kiss. Ashamed, she dared to look up, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw he was staring at her intensely.
“I have to confess I find Lady Langston captivating, with, or without, a violin in her hands,” he argued, his eyes still on hers. Delawney nodded in agreement with his friend, but Maeve barely noticed, hypnotized by those green eyes. Beside her, Anita almost giggled with contempt.
“Then, my lord, I would advise you to choose a seat up front, when we ask everyone to go to the music parlor.” With that said, Anita curtsied again and grabbed Maeve’s arm, before guiding her away. Once they were far enough, Anita finally stopped containing herself, and a laugh escaped her. Maeve wasn’t amused in the slightest, and she stayed stoic, as her friend was having a burst of irrepressible laughter, leaning on her to keep her balance, as her entire frame twitched with a silent giggle.
“You have just lost all of your best friend privileges,” declared Maeve when Anita eventually calmed down.
“My God! Are you sure the two of you only kissed?” she asked. Maeve gave her a warning look. “I thought you were going to combust on the spot. Are you certain you didn’t let him get into your knickers?”
Maeve’s head went left and right, making sure no one had heard. “Anita, I swear, I am never letting you go back to Germany. What did they do to you?”
Anita ignored her, turning around to watch the baron from afar. “He is quite dashing, isn’t he? Despite his scar.” Maeve didn’t tell her she found the scar to be actually appealing, but she turned and looked at him too. Yes. The man was quite dashing indeed.
“He is leaving soon. For the war,” Maeve explained, her voice a little too emotional for her taste.
Anita pouted, disappointed by the revelation. “Then I guess you have to make him want to stay or at least give him some motivation to come back.”
Maeve considered her friend’s statement, not sure what to make of it. Of course she wanted him to survive the war — she wouldn’t wish death on anyone. But did she want him to come back to her ?
Of course not.
【17】Captivating Concerto
Lucian was here out of pure chance. Delawney had been invited here by a friend who couldn’t come in the end, so John — who had decided to forgive him for going to Belgium — had asked Lucian to accompany him instead. None of them had been formally invited, but both of them were here nevertheless.
Lucian had gladly accepted the invitation, as he was familiar with the host, a composer he enjoyed. What he hadn’t known, though, was that it was the man’s birthday. He now felt out of place, being among guests who all knew each other in some way, or at least knew the host personally.
When he had finally spotted a familiar face — other than John’s — it had turned out to be the last person he would expect to find here. Who could have thought Lady Langston would be invited to an old man’s birthday? She frequented spheres too high to be among commoners like these. Still, there she was, looking as elegant as ever.
When she had come up to him, or rather had been dragged by her friend, it had been hard to ignore how uneasy she was, despite her best efforts to look unphased. He couldn’t tell if it was from regret or embarrassment, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to see the effect he had on her.
After their short exchange, he had realized she’d barely paid attention to John. It was when he remembered his original purpose was to keep her away from him. It amused him how things had changed in such a short time. Now, he had to keep himself away from her if he didn’t want things to get complicated. However, when it came to her, his willpower wasn’t worth much.
For once, the party was not focusing so much on the dancing, but rather on the music. A Quatuor was entertaining the room with various pieces Lucian guessed were from Schwarz himself, and no room had been arranged for dancers.
The house they were in showed how successful the composer had been. For a man of low birth, he certainly had raised to admirable heights. The place wasn’t a palace, but it was large enough to host a party of one hundred people without being overcrowded. Everywhere you looked, you were reminded of the host’s passion for music. All paintings contained at least one instrument, whether it was a portrait, a still life, or a landscape. Various instruments were scattered on shelves or cabinets, and a few were even mounted on the walls.
If all of it wasn’t to Lucian’s taste, he had to give credit to the dedication it showed. After a quick look around the room, he noted that Lady Langston wasn’t here anymore. He then turned his attention back to John, who was debating about some political situation in some random country in Eastern Europe. Deciding that discovering the rest of the house would be more interesting, Lucian left his friend and walked around. He found more musical paintings and instruments, including a few exotic ones that probably came from halfway around the world.
Lucian kept on exploring and ended up in the music parlor, which, if filled with even more instruments, was empty of people. It was as large as the living room, with a grand fireplace, two bow windows half-hidden by heavy draperies. He closed the door behind him and walked between the chairs that had been set in rows, to make his way to the grand piano. In the middle of the front row of chairs, a large Louis XVI armchair had been installed, right in front of the piano, beside which a violin sat in a holder, along with a cello resting on a chair. Lucian lifted the keyboard lid, and his fingers danced soundlessly over the black and white keys. It had been at least a decade since the last time he had played anything. He glanced at the door and decided no one would probably hear him.
Still standing up, he dared to push a few keys, trying to remember some of the things he used to know. The result was horrid at first, but after a few seconds, his fingers remembered by themselves, and he finally recognized the melody his hands had conjured.
Before he could work better on it, a familiar voice behind him made him halt abruptly. “If Bach hadn’t been dead for over sixty years, this would have, without a doubt, killed him,” it teased. Coming out from behind the half-closed curtains of one of the windows, Lady Langston was looking at him, her eyebrow cocked up.
Lucian smiled, despite his embarrassment, and took a few steps away from the piano. “That wasn’t very good, was it?”
She came closer, giving him a smile between amusement and sarcasm. “Not very good would be the nice way to put it. My four years old sister does better.”
Lucian smiled, genuinely this time. It surprised him that alone, like this, she seemed much more relaxed than outside. He wondered if it was because of her fear of crowds or because she feared people’s opinions. “What are you doing in here, alone?” he wondered.
“I needed to study a little, before the big surprise,” she explained, waving in front of her a few music sheets.
“Ah yes, you will play the violin, I presume?” She nodded and gestured to the instrument, waiting on its holder. “Do you play any other instrument?”
“I can play the piano, not as well as my sister, but definitely better than you,” she explained, adding a smile to soften the remark. “And Anita has taught me the cello.”
Lucian nodded, not surprised a woman like her would practice three instruments.
He took a step toward her and frowned when she took a step back. She was suddenly avoiding his gaze, and her eyes were down on the sheets in her hands. Disconcerted, he wondered if it had been a conscious move. He took another step, and she stepped back again.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked her, offended. She looked up and shook her head. Lucian took another step, and she moved back again. This was growing annoying, now. “What are you doing then?”
“I would rather we kept a reasonable distance between us, my lord.”
“You do not trust I can control myself around you?” he questioned, provoked. She gave him a quizzical glance.
“No, my lord. It isn’t you I do not trust.”
When he understood she meant she didn’t trust herself around him, her confession hit him straight in the guts. Only then did Lucian notice her cheekbones were pinkish, her eyes glassy, and her breathing faster than average. It took every bit of self-control he hadn’t to close the three yards between them and take possession of her mouth. He’d been haunted by its sweet taste, and he craved to sample it again. Their eyes were locked together, and when she unconsciously licked her lips, he forgot all notions of holding back.
To hell with the consequences .
He barely had time for one step forward when the door of the music parlor opened. He stopped right in his tracks, and Maeve jumped a little, turning to the door. In the frame stood Miss Schwarz and Lady Ailia, a shocked expression on their faces. The first one quickly recovered from her surprise, and a broad smile stretched her mouth. The other one gave her sister a caustic look, which seemed to shake Maeve out of her discomfort.
They hadn’t been caught doing anything, but still, Lucian felt guilty somehow. Maybe because of what he had been about to do. Both women entered, leaving the door open behind them, and Miss Schwarz gave him an amused look.
“I see someone was anxious to get that front-row seat,” she teased as they got near him.
Maeve gave her a warning glare. The quick exchange made Lucian suspect Lady Langston had told her friend about what had happened. As he tried to think of an escape plan, more people came in. Miss Schwarz made him sit in one of the front chairs, as the twins took their places, one on the piano stool, while the other grabbed the violin and its bow. The room was slowly filling up, and when Schwarz himself came in, his daughter made him sit in the centered armchair, two chairs from Lucian. The Duke and the Duchess of Leeds arrived to sit in those free chairs, and Lucian nodded when they greeted him with a smile.
He wasn’t the type of man to feel shame or remorse, but sitting inches away from this woman, whose daughter filled his mind with the most lascivious fantasies, made him somehow uncomfortable.
Apparently, the daughter in question wasn’t at ease with it either, because her worried gaze kept gliding between Lucian and her parents. Soon, the room was filled with people looking for seats, and when an old woman passed by him, he jumped at the opportunity and offered her his chair. He moved to the side of the room, where seatless people had gathered.
When everyone had found their place, Miss Schwarz made a quick announcement, explaining her late mother had written this piece, and she had been charged to play it for her father. She apologized if the three of them sounded a bit off; they hadn’t had enough time to work on it. The blonde then kissed her father and took her place, moving the cello into position. She gave a nod to Lady Ailia, and the woman started playing. The beginning of the song was soft, fragile, and soon the faint sound of the violin followed, then the cello. As they played, the piece gained in intensity, strength, and emotions.
Lucian was impressed they hadn’t rehearsed together, as their harmony was great. He guessed they had played many other times together before tonight. All three women were focused on their partitions, and Lucian couldn’t rip his eyes from Maeve. She was so absorbed in the music, so lost in it, that she was perfectly relaxed, as if she was alone in the room, without a hundred people watching her every move. He watched as her body swung slightly with her movements, her delicate hand wielding her bow with ease.
At some point, she lifted her eyes from her score, and she met his gaze. She held it for an instant, before focusing again on the music. The song was long and complicated, but they played it to near perfection. When it ended, the room remained silent for a few seconds, and then people applauded with enthusiasm. The three women stood up, came together, and bowed to their audience. Schwarz lifted himself from his armchair and hugged all three in his arms, thanking them for the gift with tears in his eyes, kissing his daughter’s forehead. The twins were hugging him back with the same intensity, and Lucian understood the Langstons were very close friends of the Schwarzes.
The duke, who was also up, patted the composer’s back and whispered something in Maeve’s ear, making her smile from ear to ear. The room slowly emptied itself, and Lucian stayed, observing the little group having their emotional moment.
“Can you imagine spending the rest of your life with such a woman?” Delawney asked from behind.
Lucian turned and found his friend watching the group too, a dreamy smile on his face. The baron looked back, observing the woman in question with attention. Yes, he could easily imagine that. “We should go. To leave them alone,” he noted, to distract himself. John agreed, and they both left to rejoin the main room.
“We are going to deal some cards in the library. Do you want to join us?” Lucian shook his head, refusing. “Your loss, then.”
Lucian didn’t enjoy gambling money away. His own brother, Kevin, had lost thousands of pounds, and would have without a doubt risked their family’s wealth, had he ever inherited the title. Not that Lucian didn’t enjoy card games, it had actually been a nice distraction during his stay in the Peninsula, but he didn’t want to get this bad habit.
He already had his own sins to take care of, no need to add to them.
【18】Shameless Flirting
Delawney found his group of friends, and they all left the room together for their game of cards. Lucian found himself alone again, so he scanned the room in search of a distraction. The Schwarzes and the Langstons were back from the music room, several guests already engaging in conversations with them. He decided to congratulate the women on their performance, but before he reached them, the group had scattered around, leaving only Lady Maeve and Miss Schwarz.
“Ladies,” he told them when he reached the pair.
“My apologies,” Miss Schwarz abruptly declared, “someone is calling for me over there.”
The move wasn’t subtle at all, and Lucian’s suspicions were confirmed. Lady Langston had told the woman something had happened. She watched with incredulity as her blonde friend abandoned her. When they were both alone, she looked up, regaining her composure.
“Did you enjoy the piece, my lord?” she cordially asked.
“I did, my lady. And I have to admit your friend was right.” A valet with glasses passed by, and Lucian grabbed one for him and one he offered to her. She took it and thanked him with a nod.
“She was right about what?”
Lucian bent slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear, inhaling her perfume. “You were captivating,” he explained, with a low voice.
He moved back and watched with delectation as her skin flushed, a delicate tint of pink spreading on her cheeks. It must have been so unfair to blush so easily, as it robbed her of her right to appear unaffected, her body betraying whatever turmoil raged within her. In this particular case, he wondered if she was all flushed from modesty or arousal.
She looked up, her eyes daring, as always. “I thought I was captivating even without my violin?” she noted smugly. Following her taunting, she moved her glass to her lush lips to take a sip of champagne.
“Swan, I firmly believe you would be even more captivating with nothing at all.”
His remark didn’t fail to shock her, and she choked on her drink, her blue eyes growing round. He apologized, unsure what to do to help her. He couldn’t exactly touch in front of all these people, so tapping her back gently wasn’t an option. Helpless, he watched as she coughed, her eyes filling with tears. People around them sent them curious looks.
“You cannot say things like that,” she scolded when her coughing fit stopped, her voice hoarse.
“I know, I am sorry,” he admitted, a pinch of amusement in his voice.
He was pleased to have taken her off guard but sorry to have made her choke on her drink. She sent him a judging glare and looked around. Deciding to ignore him for a moment, she paid him no mind, purposefully avoiding looking at him. Lucian had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his grin.
“So, what did you tell them?” she asked out of the blue.
“To whom?”
“You were supposed to give your answer, for Belgium.”
“Ah, this matter…” He paused and looked at her profile. He waited for her to turn too and look at him. “I told them yes.” He saw the disapproval in her eyes and noticed a small pinch of anger.
“When are you scheduled to leave?” she inquired, pretending to be unaffected.
“I will leave London on the fifth. The boat leaves on the seventh.” He watched as she counted the days left in her head. A little over a week. He guessed the answer didn’t please her, as her brows frowned imperceptibly. Lucian moved to face her and touched her forearm, gently grazing the silk of her glove.
“I won’t die, Maeve.”
“You cannot be certain of it. And I already told you I didn’t care about what happened to you.”
“I am almost certain,” he declared, ignoring the second part of her remark.
“And to you, ‘almost’ is enough?”
Before he had the time to answer, she turned around and fled, visibly upset. Lucian mumbled a curse and followed her, ignoring what the surrounding people might think. He tried to make her stop, calling her name as discreetly as he could, but she stubbornly kept going.
When Lucian finally caught Maeve, they were in a deserted corridor. He grabbed her arm, opened a random door, and pushed her inside. She protested with vehemence, disliking being roughly handled like this, but he ignored her glare and huffs. Once the door was closed behind them, he looked around, wondering where they had landed. The room was dark, with only the moonlight coming from a single window to help him navigate. They were in a small study, and as his eyes accommodated to the darkness, he could see more clearly. Maeve was standing in the middle, her arms crossed in front of her, pouting with a scowl. It could have seemed childish or ridiculous, but he found her adorable.
Trying not to let himself soften, he forced her to look at him “I don’t know what else I can tell you,” he told her angrily. “I will not die. They won’t put me on the battlefield.”
“Will you be miles away from it, then?”
He winced, knowing she wouldn’t find his next answer sufficient. “No. However, I won’t be taking risks with the soldiers.”
“Then it is not enough!”
Lucian couldn’t help but be delighted by her fit of anger and what it meant. She did care for him — substantially — or they wouldn’t be having this conversation. His temper vanished at the thought.
He came closer, ignoring her warning glower, and tenderly framed her face in his hands. He stood there, hovering over her, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones, and he felt her anger melt away, like snow under the sun. It wasn’t the first time he felt a surge of tenderness for the woman. She was such an enigma, impossible to understand, complicated to decipher. With their eyes locked, he tried to figure her out.
She was too proud to accept they may share something special, and he refused to allow himself to feel things he shouldn’t. He was here for John, that was it. However, as he held her like this, her bluest of eyes locked into his, he forgot about her vanity and terrible temper.
Ignoring all the warnings screaming in his head, he bent and kissed her forehead, then lifted to meet her eyes. “I promise…” he said before pecking her left cheek, “that I…” then her right cheek, “will not…” the tip of her nose, “…die.”
He concluded his declaration with a soft kiss on her lips.
When he moved up, not wanting to take it further and trying to be reasonable for once, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him down, pressing her lips on his. He grabbed her wrists, in an effort to resist, knowing where it would lead them. When he felt the vertiginous touch of her tongue on his lips, he groaned at the lustful shiver that ran through him, but didn’t give in, still trying to get her to release his jacket. She did it again, once, twice, and by the third time, he had forgotten all about his resolution, to let go of her wrists to pull her closer.
Like the first time, their embrace got wild and out of hand quickly. Maeve hooked an arm around his neck, her other hand tangling in his hair, pressing her mouth harder on his. He let his hands slide down her back, all the way to hips, where he filled his palms with her soft curves, digging his fingers in the malleable flesh.
She was so absorbed by their kiss that she didn’t care about their balance. Mumbling in her mouth, he guided her to the nearest wall and pressed her on it, making sure none of them would fall. He was already as hard as stone when he pressed his shaft against her core. He could feel her heat there, despite the layers of fabric that separated them. She moaned at the sensation and tilted her hips to adjust, spreading her legs a little.
This woman was fire, he thought. She was so responsive, so passionate, it baffled him that no man before him had managed to wake her appetite for this. To think the others thought her to be a frigid ice queen. She turned her head away, gasping for air, and he used this opportunity to kiss her delicate throat. He heard her panting with pleasure and decided to keep exploring. His mouth traveled across the underside of her jaw, followed the line of her collarbone, and nibbled at the soft flesh of her breast. When he ran his tongue in the crest between both mounds, she let out a loud moan, her hand clutching his hair almost painfully.
He could have explored her like this for hours, days, a lifetime… but she seemed to have other plans as she brought his face back to hers. She welcomed his mouth with a sigh, and her hips began to roll sinuously, in a gesture that was purely instinctive. Understanding they had taken it too far already, he grabbed her hips to immobilize her and moved his mouth away from hers. He dropped it on the side of her throat, where he could feel her heart pulsate erratically.
“Maeve,” he said against her skin, his voice barely a whisper. “We have to stop.”
She shook her head and resisted, trying to move her hips despite his firm grip. She let out a frustrated moan when it didn’t work, and she tried to make him kiss her again.
“Maeve, no.”
“But… I want…” She couldn’t find the words, so she pressed her core harder onto his aching groin.
His brain was so fogged by passion, he wasn’t certain how it was still functioning, but he suddenly realized something. He could win. Right here, right now. He could reach his goal to tarnish her reputation, to make John change his mind, to keep her away from him. She was right there, almost begging him to take her. All he had to do was lift her skirts, push himself inside of her, and fuck her to completion. It was easy, and every bone in his body ached to do just that.
However, his conscience chose this very moment to rebel. Yes, he wanted her, and yes, she wanted him, but she deserved more, she deserved better. No matter who she was, or what she was, no woman deserved to have their first time rushed like this, against a wall at a party.
He groaned, trying to resist the urge to lift her skirts and possess her right here. “I know what you want, swan. I cannot give it to you. Not like this. Not now.”
“When?” she whimpered, and he could hear the distress in her voice.
“When I come back from Belgium.” It wasn’t a proposition, not even a promise, but a statement. When he would be back, and he would, he’d have her; in any way she would allow him to.
It seemed to ease her a little, and he moved back a few inches, still not letting go of her completely. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, and he almost laughed at her eagerness.
“I don’t know. No one does. It could be a few weeks, a few months, a year…” When he met her eyes, he saw how much she disliked his response. “Will you wait for me, Maeve?”
Pressing his lips on her temple, he felt her tense. As her lust was slowly coming down, she realized what he was asking of her. Defiant, she stared at him, daring him to ask again.
“Promise you will wait for me. Only for me,” he insisted, pressing his cock against her core. She gasped at the sensation but still didn’t comply.
“No,” she finally let out in a breathless moan.
Oh, she wanted to play that game? This was one argument she wouldn’t win because Lucian wouldn’t let her no matter what. This was too important to let her have the last word.
【19】Reluctant Promises
Maeve was feeling too much, too fast. It was impossible to think properly, every part of her body focused on the man pressed against her.
Lucian had kissed her like a starved man, pushed where she so desperately wanted him. When he had let go of her a little, her brain seemed to have gained back some functions, and she was realizing what they were doing, how wrong it all was. But also, how right it all felt. The illicit nature of what they were doing was crossing all boundaries. Breaking the rules had never felt so good.
He had asked her to wait for him, and she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to belong to him. Their futures couldn’t be joined, because she didn’t want to have a man in hers. But she wanted this, this passion, this desire. He had to take care of that hunger possessing her, or she would surely go mad with it. She didn’t know what to do, hated that nebulous state, hated not being able to form coherent thoughts.
“Promise you will wait for me. Only for me,” he demanded, his voice imperious.
He accompanied his words with a push forward, pressing his manhood harder on the pulsating flesh between her legs. She gasped at the sensation, but despite it, something inside of her rebelled. He couldn’t order her around. He had no right to. He was nothing to her.
She summoned all the courage and strength she had in her to shake her head. “No.”
He seemed to have been expecting this answer because he looked down at her, a devilish smile was painted on his face. She should have worried, but the next thing he did robbed her of all rational concerns. He pressed himself on her, retaking her mouth, invading it with his tongue, kissing her with everything he had. Bending slightly, he reached behind one of her thighs to lift her leg and place it on his hip, opening her more for him. She moaned in his mouth when he pushed on her core from this new angle. This hard part of him, rubbing like this on her most intimate of places, seemed so forbidden, so taboo, that it added to the pleasure.
Unable to resist the temptation, she tightened her arms around his neck, delirious with need, giving back as much as she was receiving. He started an implacable roll of his hips, pressing on her in rhythm, and all she could do was hold on to him. She didn’t know what was happening to her. The sensations were overwhelming, her need increasing with each roll of his hips. She was now moaning unabashedly in his mouth, her own hips following his. An urgency was growing inside of her until it became all that mattered.
She felt as if it was reaching its peak, when he stopped moving, preventing her from any movement too. She whimpered, desperate to satisfy the ache, and he pulled away to look at her intently.
“Please,” she implored, ashamed to be reduced to the baseness of begging him. His eyes were dark, watching her carefully, observing her every reaction.
“Promise, Maeve,” he asked again, reminding her why he was doing all this.
She shook her head stubbornly, trying to stay strong. With a smile, he gave her a firm thrust. She cried at the flash of pleasure that ran through her, and she felt her eyes fill with tears of frustration.
“Say you will wait for me,” he whispered, almost tender, with another maddening thrust. She couldn’t bear this. She needed… she needed him to keep moving, to keep rubbing on this part of her, to help release this impossible tension he had created in her center.
With a whisper, she gave up. “Yes…”
“Say it.” He granted her another nudge, his smile triumphant.
“I promise, I will wait for you. Please, Lucian!”
Victorious, he gave her what she needed and ground on her, retaking her mouth. He increased his rhythm, and her pleasure quickly grew back to impossible heights. Holding onto him dearly, she felt herself climb into celestial heights, unsure what the destination would be but eager to get there. Then finally, she reached the peak she hadn’t known existed but needed. Starting from her intimacy, where their bodies had been grounding so eagerly, waves of pleasure spread through her entire frame, making her scream from the intensity of it. Trembling, she clutched her arms around him, unable to control her reactions. Never breaking their kiss, he muffled her cries of pleasure with his mouth.
It was as if he’d set her entire world on fire, lightning strikes roaming through her whole body, making her shiver in the most delicious manner. Despite her ecstatic state, she noticed he was holding back, his grip on her hips tight, his entire body stiff.
Little by little, the waves of pleasure lessened and slowed down, as did his momentum, allowing her to regain some elementary functions. Eventually, when she was able to relax her muscles again, she released her grip on him, allowing him to pull away from her a little. Her breathing still erratic, her eyes unfocused, and her legs weak, she looked up at him.
His face was particularly hard right now, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrow, his expression severe. Maeve lifted on the tip of her toes, and gave him a tender kiss on his clenched jaw, wanting to appease him. If it didn’t help him relax one bit, the gesture certainly surprised him, and he looked at her strangely, before taking a few steps back, detaching completely from her.
He watched her as she tried to look presentable again, straightening her skirts, adjusting her cleavage, checking her hair. She was troubled by what had happened and could imagine she would soon regret giving him her word she would wait. But for now, she was mostly confused by the present situation.
When she felt like herself again, she looked at him, her usual confidence back, or at least she looked like so, she hoped. “Now, you promise to come back as soon as you can, and not volunteer for more,” she demanded in return, deciding there was no reason to be the only one to commit to something. He smiled at her imperious tone.
“I promise,” he let out with a frustrated laugh, looking away from her. Worriedly looking down at her outfit, she wondered if anyone would notice how her dress was now slightly crumpled.
“I should go back before someone suspects something. How do I look?”
Lucian considered the question, his eyes slowly gliding over her, apparently enjoying what he was seeing. She felt her skin flush again, just with the sheer power of his gaze. “Maybe you should take your time on your way to join the others,” he concluded.
She nodded, puzzled, and moved to the door. She turned to him with a questioning glance. “Are you not coming?”
“I cannot come right away. Not like this,” he added, gesturing at his groin. She looked down at the massive bump and bit her lower lip, unconsciously. Only then did she understand his sour mood. He hadn’t found his release. She knew perfectly well that, had he not brought hers to completion, she would also be tense.
Feeling somehow responsible, she gave him an apologetic look. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she wondered, genuinely curious.
Despite the dim lighting, she clearly saw Lucian’s eyes darken. “No. I need to think of unappealing things, and having you around isn’t helping, swan.”
She nodded, refraining from asking the questions that were running through her head. Once she was at the door, hesitated an instant, her hand on the handle. She finally opened it and disappeared, closing the door behind her without a look back.
Lucian stood there, alone, with his raging erection that didn’t seem to want to go away.
How could this woman, whom he had resented so much, turn into his wildest fantasy? Physically, she was flawless, and it could explain his attraction to her, but it didn’t justify why he was so madly obsessed with her. Her personality wasn’t his type, and her incredible features shouldn’t be enough to make up for it. It wasn’t like he didn’t like women with character, but certainly not one with so much of it. He usually liked them more compliant, the ones who did not challenge him at every turn. He had also resented her narcissism, but he was now wondering if he hadn’t mistaken it with pride.
No, he couldn’t understand why he crazed this woman to such an extent. All he knew was that this war better be short, or he would undoubtedly desert it to come back for this incredible creature.
Her natural sensuality coupled with her innocence was a very dangerous mix. When she had asked if there was anything she could do to help him with his stiff situation, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from imagining her, kneeling in front of him, her plump lips around his hard flesh, pumping the lust out of him.
His cock twitched at the thought. Damn it. The day she would understand how much power she had over him, he would be doomed.
He tried to think of the worst things he could. Cabbage, spiders, old people… It didn’t work. Her sent was lingering in the air, the taste of her kisses on the tip of his tongue, the warmth of her aching sex still on his crotch, as if imprinted there. Then he realized those were far from the worst things he knew. Images of war flashed in his head, severed members, guts splattered around, the smell of it all…
It worked wonders, and his prick softened rapidly. On the downside, his good mood was now gone. He would rather lust after Maeve than have those thoughts in his mind. He was hit by the sudden awareness he could have spent the summer doing more than lusting after the woman but had chosen to go back to the battlefield. Of his own will, he might add.
Feeling like an idiot, he exited the office, wondering what mad man would pass on Maeve Langston for blood and gunpowder. When he entered the main room, he realized it was quite late, as plenty of guests had already left. Lucian saw Maeve speaking with her mother, her face not as flustered as before. He then noticed Delawney, who was apparently done with his card game. His friend also spotted him and came closer.
“I thought you had left without me. Where were you?”
“I needed some fresh air,” Lucian lied.
“That didn’t seem to help. You look terrible.”
“Well then, I guess the air wasn’t fresh.”
Knowing it wasn’t fair to direct his frustration at John, Lucian gave him an apologetic smile, justifying his mood on the count of fatigue. From the other side of the room, his eyes met Maeve’s, and a worried frown bent her brow, before she turned back her attention to her mother. Oh, the things he was going to do to her when he got back…
As if to punish his lecherous thoughts, Maeve’s father, the Duke of Leeds himself, appeared before them. “Gentlemen,” he saluted them with a nod.
“Your Grace,” they answered in unison.
Lucian tried his best to dismiss the fact that, barely five minutes ago, he had given the man’s adoptive daughter a mind-blowing orgasm against a wall. The duke was in his early fifties, and, to add to the prestige of his title, he was physically imposing. Clearly not as tall as Lucian was, but he was in remarkable shape for a man his age.
When he spoke again, Lucian noted that, although his elocution was excellent and high-class, he still seemed approachable. “We are having a party next Saturday,” the duke explained, “to celebrate my son’s birthday. As friends of my daughter, you two would be most welcomed to join the festivities.”
“I would be delighted to attend,” John responded.
“And you, Worthington. Will you still be in the country?”
“I will, your Grace. Just like Delawney, I would very much appreciate being among your guests.”
“Perfect! Gentlemen, I will see you next week then.”
With that, the duke saluted them and joined his wife and daughters. Lucian watched them hug the Schwarzes before leaving. He would see her one last time before leaving. Would he be able to control himself?
Before he could elaborate on the question, Wolfgang Schwarz was in front of them. “So, who are the two of you?” the old man wondered, reminding Lucian and John they had no reason to be here. Miss Schwarz, who had caught the scene with the corner of her eye, came to their rescue and presented them as friends of hers.
Lucian spent the rest of the evening sympathizing with the composer, distracting himself from thinking about Maeve Langston.
【20】Family Reunion
Maeve was hopping up and down with impatience. Today, her brothers were coming back from their board school, and it would be the first time she would see them since Christmas. Cameron was tall and broad with too much black hair on his head, and a smile that was already breaking hearts, while Manning was a lanky boy with blond hair and a charming shyness.
She hadn’t realized how much she had missed them until now, and she was excited about their upcoming visit. Having her brothers here would surely compensate for her lack of relations with her sister. She was sitting in her room, a book in hand, but had been stuck on the same page for over half an hour now. She kept looking at her clock, wishing time would pass faster.
It was clear her sudden involvement with her brother’s arrival was a semi-conscious way to avoid thinking too much about Lucian. It annoyed her to notice that the more she tried to not think of him, the more often he popped into her mind.
The other night, at the Schwarzes’, she had experienced the most satisfying, the most delicious sensations she’d ever felt. Against that wall, he had pleased her to a point she would have never thought possible, bringing more pleasure than her brain could have ever fathomed. Afterward, she had been in a cloudy state of satisfaction, feeling relaxed and content.
Back at the Schwarz house, he had almost robbed her of her decision to let go. She had been a puppet in his hands, manipulated by the pleasure he had given her. However, she couldn’t help but think he could have taken her right there in the study and she wouldn’t have complained, but he had held back. He’d given her what she wanted, without taking what she had offered so shamelessly. She was grateful he hadn’t, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. To the best of her knowledge, men made it a sport to debauch women, but Lucian hadn’t seemed to be looking forward to that.
At the moment, when she had accepted his request and told him she would wait for him to come back, she hadn’t cared about the consequences. That was because she hadn’t been able to think back then, and now that she wasn’t near him, far from his influence and his mesmerizing green eyes, she saw dozens of reasons not to let this happen. Such as, protecting her virtue, avoiding scandal, not getting her heartbroken, not getting pregnant, not getting thrown out of society…
It was clear her brain didn’t function properly when he was around, and her body was attracted to him like a bee was to sugar. She didn’t doubt that, as soon as she would be reunited with him, all of her resolutions would fade away in an instant, and she would end up begging him to take her, as she had in Mr. Schwarz’s study. She didn’t know how to deal with the fact that she turned into a wanton harlot with him, but she could console herself with the knowledge he didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary.
She was aware that what was happening between them had nothing to do with Delawney anymore. It was about them, and about this thing they shared. Poor John Delawney was just a casualty, here at the wrong place and the wrong time.
Maeve tried not to think of the fact that Lucian was leaving in four days, and she doubted she would see him until then. Anyhow, wondering about all this was useless for now. She didn’t even know for how long she would have to wait for him to come back. A year seemed like a lot, and she wondered if all those desires would still be there then. Maybe it would be for the better. He would come back, not wanting her, she wouldn’t want him either, and life would go on.
Maeve frowned in disagreement at the thought. What a waste it would be…
“You imbecile!” she scolded herself.
Of course it would be better for them both to go their own way. Lucian Thorne wasn’t for her. He was too… too…
She tried to think of the reasons why she didn’t like him.
He was manipulative. And yet, when he had won the bet, or when he could have taken her virtue, he had been clement with her.
He was too harsh, then. However, once more, he’d cared for her when she had had her panic attack. And the way he’d reassured her at Mr. Schwarz’s birthday party, kissing her face tenderly, had been anything but harsh.
He was obtuse. But then, it was the pot calling the kettle black, because she was quite obstinate herself.
He was too cold. Although, when he kissed her, it felt more like fire than ice. His lips on her, his hands exploring her body, his hard length rubbing on her, making the warmest, fuzziest sensations run through her body.
Frustrated not to be able to find reasons to despise him, she groaned and closed her book, deciding she wouldn’t be able to read, anyway. She felt ridiculous to be angry about this, and she stood up before getting out of her room.
As she got closer to the entrance hall, she heard a commotion. The house had been in a constant state of activity for two days now, in preparation for tomorrow’s party. Quickening her pace, she reached the entrance hall and saw a small group gathered near the main door, with a few valets taking care of some luggage. She recognized her father, talking to her brothers.
Maeve joined them and hugged her brothers tightly. “Hey there, blacky,” Cameron greeted her, teasing her with a stupid nickname he had come up with, as soon as the Swan Sisters thing had come out. She was ‘blacky’, and Ailia was ‘whitey’. She moved away and gave him a small punch on the shoulder.
“How are you still growing?” she asked Cameron, noting he was half an inch taller. The young man shrugged his shoulders, amused. She turned to Manning and smiled warmly before hugging him again. “Happy birthday, blondie.”
Before Rose, Manning had been the only blond one of the siblings, earning him the nickname. He was too compliant by nature to say anything, and they had all taken the habit of calling him like that.
“Thank you, Maeve,” he said, hugging her back.
Ailia joined them, and it was her turn to salute them. Their mother arrived, with Rose following closely, and she hugged her sons tightly until, embarrassed, they complained they couldn’t breathe. She released them, and Rose lifted her arms, demanding a hug too. Cameron picked her up and complied, before keeping her with him, the little girl resting on his side. Soon enough, Ophelia and William arrived too, thrilled to have their big brothers back. They told them how they had been learning how to fence, and Cameron insisted on a demonstration later. When Manning asked which one of them was the best at it, the kids started to argue. From what Maeve had heard and witnessed, Phee was the most skilled fencer of the pair.
She smiled at the sight of all her family gathered. It was so good to have the Langstons reunited again. She knew they didn’t have many of those moments left. Soon they would only have once a year, at Christmas, and little by little, the rest of her siblings would surely start their own respective lives, and she was going to live in Dorset.
She frowned at the prospect. For the first time, she felt unhappy when she thought of her peaceful life near the sea. Was she realizing it was pointless without Ailia? Did she want to remain closer to her family? Or did she simply feel like her life could turn out to be more than quiet solitude? Maybe, for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to end up alone. Maybe, after all, there might be someone worth sharing a lifetime with. Maybe there might be someone worth taking the risk. Maybe he was.
A sudden sadness invaded Maeve, and she felt helpless. He was leaving soon. She might never see him again, despite his promise. The idea of never seeing Lucian again was much more painful than she would have thought, and a single silent tear rolled down her cheekbone. She wiped it before it had time to reach the middle of her cheek, with the hope no one had seen. She saw that her mother had noticed when she gave her a comforting smile, looking at her like she knew what this was about.
Ignoring it, Maeve tried to get excited again by her siblings’ arrival and joined the conversation. They were planning an afternoon of board games, so they would have some time to catch up before tomorrow’s ball.
Maeve winced at the mention of the party. If she didn’t enjoy going to receptions, she certainly didn’t enjoy having one at her own place. There would be people everywhere, noise, animation… She didn’t have a choice, she had to make an appearance, but she would leave as soon as possible and go to bed; with a book and earplugs.
As expected, Maeve wasn’t enjoying this at all. It felt wrong to have her home, her one place of comfort, invaded by all those nosy people. She looked around at the room filled with guests, wondering how long she had to stay before disappearing to her chambers.
Although she was aware it was her parents’ first reception this Season, and they were already in June, so she knew no one really had had a choice in this. It was expected that a family as prestigious as hers, an ancestral dukedom, would host a few receptions every year.
Ailia had found her fiancé, and they were talking to a group of people. Cameron had found friends his age, and they were talking about exploring the world, crossing seas, and discovering new continents and islands. Even Manning, the man of the hour, was having fun with a few friends, which was a rare sight, the boy being usually shy and reserved. Her younger siblings had been sent to bed, despite their insistence to take part in the festivities.
Maeve was wishing to have been so lucky when she noticed a familiar silhouette. Without an ounce of hesitation, she rushed to it and wrapped her arms around the newcomer.
“Anita, why are you so late?” she scolded, releasing her from her embrace.
Anita laughed, surprised to be greeted in such a manner. “Hello, Vee! I am fine, thank you. How are you?”
“I am sorry. I was just… I was feeling…”
“I know, don’t worry, darling,” said the blonde with compassion.
Anita knew about Maeve’s condition. She knew about her agoraphobia, and she often provided excuses or distractions. Maeve offered her arm and Anita took it. They walked to the refreshment tables, and both chose something to drink, before standing up with their drinks in hand, observing the crowd.
Anita kept wriggling, and when she saw her wince in pain, Maeve turned to her, worried. “What is it? Are you all right?”
“Yes, it’s just… I am wearing new shoes, and they are incredibly uncomfortable.”
“Ah… the predicaments of womanhood. Are they cute at least?”
“Very,” confirmed Anita, lifting her skirts high enough for Maeve to see them. The shoes were quite cute indeed. The tip was round, and the curved heel was very unique. It was covered with emerald silk and embroidered pink glass pearls. Although, they didn’t seem comfortable at all.
“Shall we sit then?” Maeve proposed. Anita nodded, and they found two empty chairs to rest on.
“Now, let us get to business. I know you have things to tell me,” Anita declared once they were settled.
“What do you mean?”
“Do not play ignorant with me, Vee. Last week, after the concerto, I left you with you-know-who, and shortly after, the both of you disappeared. For half an hour.”
Maeve blushed, realizing they may not have been as discrete as they thought. She wasn’t going to insult her friend’s intelligence by denying the whole disappearing thing. “He wanted to talk, in private.”
“Oh, you just talked? Is that why you came back all flushed?”
“We were also kissing,” admitted Maeve, cursing her friend’s attention to details.
“I know kissing Maeve. This wasn’t only kissing.”
“What do you want me to say, Anita?” Maeve grunted, irritated she wouldn’t let it go.
“I just want my best friend to tell me the truth.”
“You want the truth, is that it? The truth is, for the first time in my life, I am attracted to a man. The truth is, I cannot shake him out of my head. He occupies all my dreams, my every thought. The truth is, he is leaving in three days, for this stupid war, and I am petrified at the thought I might never see him again.”
Maeve stopped abruptly, realizing how much she had just revealed. She had said out loud things she didn’t even dare to think. Somehow, she felt lighter, as if confiding everything to someone had helped release some of the pressure.
Anita was staring at her with both shock and sadness. “I am sorry, Vee. I hadn’t realized.”
“How could you? I barely realized it myself.”
They both stayed silent for a moment, and Maeve avoided her friend’s eyes. “Did you tell him all this?” Anita eventually asked. Maeve shook her head. “Do you wish you could have told him before he left?”
Maeve hesitated. If he were to die, she would have wanted him to know, no matter what. But what if he didn’t feel the same way and came back from Belgium? She would feel like the most pathetic imbecile. On the other hand, what if he felt the same way about her? Wasn’t knowing it worth the risk of passing for a pathetic imbecile? Maybe it was.
“I wish I had told him, yes.”
“Great. Because he just arrived with his ginger friend,” Anita noted, pointing toward their left.
Maeve’s eyes widened, and she looked in the direction she had indicated. Incredulous, she saw her friend was right. The dashing baron had joined the party, his inseparable acolyte at his side.
Standing tall among the guests, Lucian was carefully scanning the room, looking for someone. She watched as his eyes were getting closer to her, and when they reached her, they stopped their course and locked onto hers.
Maeve held his gaze, feeling her insides flutter with excitement, and wondered if she would have the courage to confess her feelings, her hopes, and her dreams.
【21】Stollen Minutes
The Langston house impressed Lucian. He knew the Dukedom of Leeds was a prestigious title, and he had expected some opulence. But what he had around him wasn’t just opulence. It was downright royalty. The residence was more like a small palace, and everything was detailed with meticulousness, moldings, columns, chandeliers, railing, fireplace… And that was only the architecture. They had decorated the rest of the place with the most exquisite paintings, tapestries, statues, mirrors…
Lucian’s parents had always enjoyed displaying their opulence, arrogantly showing the world how prosperous the family was. He was used to being surrounded by riches, but this… this was a whole new level.
He now understood Maeve hadn’t grown like most mortals. No, she had been raised like an actual princess, enjoying the most luxurious settings, with dozens of servants to satisfy her every need. It was not exactly her fault if she sometimes came across as superior. She actually was, in every possible way.
He looked at her, sitting in a chair near Miss Schwarz, and he felt like he was seeing her in a new light. Considering all this lavishness, she now seemed admirably down to earth and accessible. Looking around, he searched for Delawney, who had abandoned him once more.
“Worthington,” said a masculine voice behind him.
Lucian turned around and ended up facing Maeve’s father. “Your Grace.”
“You may call me Langston. I feel you and I might see a lot of each other.”
“What do you mean?” Lucian asked, confused.
“Well, your friend, Delawney, just talked to me. He wanted my permission to court Maeve.” The duke paused and looked at his daughter. Lucian greeted his teeth, wishing John had spoken to him before talking to the duke. “Even if this won’t get anywhere, I think you and I will cross each other’s paths more often. So, Langston from now on.”
Lucian frowned, curious as to what the duke meant. “May I ask why you think this courtship won’t go anywhere?”
“I have known my daughter for nineteen years, Worthington, and Delawney is not what she needs.”
Lucian shook his head, bitter. So, everyone knew John wasn’t right for her, except John? It seemed that only the lady in question could open his eyes and make him realize this was never going to happen.
“No offense to your friend,” the duke continued, “but he doesn’t have the backbone to withstand her. She needs someone whose tenacity equals her, or she will be unhappy for the rest of her life.”
Lucian didn’t understand why the man was telling him all this, but he agreed nevertheless. “That is what I told him. But he wouldn’t listen to me. Maybe if it came from you, he would believe it.”
The duke let out a small laugh as if the proposition was absurd. “I, young man, have learned a long time ago not to interfere in the lives of my daughters. My wife and I have raised them to be wondrous adults, and I trust their judgment.” The duke turned to Lucian, planting his hand on his shoulder. “I know that no matter what, Maeve will make the right choice in the end,” he added, making a point to look him in the eye. Lucian realized he was familiar with those eyes. He knew this shade of blue. Maeve’s eyes were almost identical.
“Now I will let you enjoy your evening. I need to find my marvelous wife in all this ruckus,” declared the duke, turning around to disappear into the crowd.
Lucian stood there, confused by what had happened. Had the duke just given him a blessing of some sort? For what? Did he know about Maeve and him? Had she said anything?
Perplexed, he looked at the woman and saw with discontentment that John had joined her and was talking to her and her friend, who were now standing up. Lucian quickly joined the trio.
“my lord,” Miss Schwarz saluted with a strange smile when he reached them. Maeve curtsied, unusually uncomfortable.
“Miss Schwarz. Lady Langston,” he greeted them back, then turned to John. “I apologize, but I would like to speak with my friend for a moment.” John gave him a displeased look but didn’t complain, and excused himself to the women, promising to come back shortly. They walked away together, and Lucian led him to a quiet corridor.
As soon as they were alone, Lucian turned to his friend, unable to hide his anger. “You asked for the duke’s permission to court her?”
John gave him an uncertain look. “Of course. I have to officially start courting her, at some point.”
Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose, not knowing how to explain this. “John, she isn’t for you.”
“You keep saying that, but she doesn’t seem to be for anyone else either, so why not me?”
“You will be miserable if you marry her. Everyone knows it. Why don’t you?”
“What do you mean by ‘everyone knows it’, Lucian?”
Now his friend seemed confused, and Lucian despised himself for what he was about to do. “Her own father came to me and told me what a disastrous match it would be.”
John seemed hurt by the revelation, and he stared at Lucian, troubled. “If it is true, he should have told me himself,” he noted, trying to remain as dignified as possible. “I know you don’t like her, you have made it very clear, but please believe that I know what I am doing.”
Without another word, John left him to return to the ballroom, leaving Lucian alone in the deserted hallway.
Exasperated, Lucian punched the wall with all his strength, enraged at his inability to reason with his friend. He flinched at the pain and spread through his hand, trying to make it pass. He saw crimson marks over two of his knuckles. On the wall where his fist had landed, there was a hollow patch in the plaster with more blood. He reprimanded himself for this burst of anger, but the pain now helped him focus his temper.
To which extent did he have to get to make John understand? He could have told him she was wrong for him in every possible way, but the man wasn’t listening. He could have told him she was a wanton woman, who had accorded him to take some liberties with her, but it wasn’t fair for anyone. She wasn’t promiscuous with anyone else, only Lucian. He was her weakness, and everyone was allowed to have a weakness.
For the first time, he realized that maybe, deep down, the real reason he didn’t want her to marry Delawney wasn’t to protect his friend. If he was being honest with himself, the real reason as to why she couldn’t be John’s, was because she was his.
He wanted the woman. In spite of what he thought of her, of her quick-temper, her snobbery, her stubbornness… He wanted her, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know it any longer. It went beyond his lust for her, beyond possessing her body. He wanted more than that. Her soul had to be his in the end. Like a glorious proof that he, Lucian Thorne, was good enough to deserve such a woman’s affection.
Certainly, he didn’t deserve it, but he would be damned if he didn’t at least try. And as much as it pained him, the woman deserved more than a quick shag. He wanted to do things the right way, to follow the rules. She deserved this, at least.
Invigorated, he returned to the party and found her still with her friend and Delawney. He joined them, ignoring the vexed glare John gave him.
Just as he reached them, the musicians started a new piece. “Oh! I love this waltz,” Miss Schwarz suddenly said. “Too bad no one ever invites me to dance…” John’s inner white knight took control, and the man kindly invited the young woman for a dance.
Lucian watched them join the other dancers, standing next to Maeve, and when they started dancing, she bent toward him. “She has the express mission to occupy him for as long as possible,” she confided, a smile in her voice. Impressed, Lucian turned his head and looked at her, getting lost in her eyes. “I… I need to talk to you, Lucian. In private.”
He too had things that needed to be said too, so he nodded. She looked around, making sure no one was paying attention, and she walked away. He followed her at a safe distance as she guided him through the residence. When she disappeared into a room, leaving the door ajar behind her, Lucian followed, before closing it.
He didn’t know where he had expected to land, but not in a bedroom. Being alone with her with a large bed in the middle of the room didn’t seem to be wise. She was standing in front of one of the two windows, looking at the rain pouring outside. Lucian came forward, looking around, curious. He passed a dressing table, filled with small bottles, hair accessories, brushes, powders…
“Is this your room?” he asked.
She nodded, still facing the window. Lucian went to the nightstand where a book was resting open, pages down. He twisted his neck to turn his head, trying to read the title. ‘The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties’. He smiled at the fact that, of course, she was reading feminist books. She was still unmoving, watching the rain, and he wondered if something was wrong.
Worried, he went to her and didn’t resist the need to touch her. Delicately, he wrapped his arms around her, and she let him, leaning into him. He kissed her temple, and watched with her, as drops of rain ran down the glass before them. He enjoyed the moment, simply holding her. No arguing, no thinking, no talking… But he knew they would have to talk at some point.
“Maeve-”
“No, wait,” she interrupted, turning around to face him. “I have to say something first, and then you can say whatever you want.” She moved away, her brows slightly frowned, trying to find the words. “I have come to realize that my interest in you might be more than the carnal enthrallment I have for you.” She paused, unsure of how to continue, and her words resonated in his head. She had formulated it in a very conventional and proper manner, making it sound not very intimate, but the meaning was here. What she felt for him was more than desire. “I don’t know what this could lead to, what this means. I don’t know if it could work. However, I want to try, when you come back from Belgium. I want to see if this, what we have, could be more.”
Lucian stayed still, dumbfounded by her words. She wanted to try. She wanted him for more than sex, more than lust. Maeve Langston wanted to learn to know him, to see where this would take them.
“Please, say something,” she begged, embarrassed.
He realized how bad his sudden silence might seem to her, and he quickly tried to think of something to answer. “I… Maeve, I…” he babbled, tongue-tied.
“Oh, God! What have I done?” she worried, hiding her face in her hands. “I thought, maybe, you felt the same way, that maybe you would want more too.” Feeling terrible for making her endure this, Lucian quickly reached her, took her wrists, and pushed her hands away from her face, revealing her teary expression. This side of her, he had never seen.
“Maeve, I’m sorry,” he started, making her doubt herself more, a tear rolling down her cheek. “No, please, don’t cry, swan. I feel the same way.”
Her eyes widened, and he watched as her anxiety turned into stupor. With his thumb, he wiped the unwelcomed tear and then brushed her cheek.
“I wanted to tell you the same thing. When I come back from Belgium, we will take our time. I want us to do this properly, so we don’t ruin what could be,” he explained, before kissing her forehead. “Also, I was going to insist you do not marry Delawney, because I cannot spend the rest of my life coveting my best friend’s wife.”
She frowned and moved back at the mention of John. “Why are you so sure I would marry him?”
“Because he is a great man. And also he asked for your father’s approval to court you.”
“He did?” she asked, hiding her embarrassment behind her hand. Lucian nodded, and she winced. “Well, be reassured, my affection for John Delawney isn’t of this nature. I do not… want him.”
In an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to rise, and he looked at her with hunger. “Who do you want then?”
She maintained his gaze, not shying away, a small smile stretching the corners of her lip. “You know who I want.”
“Say it.” Her smile grew bigger, and he wondered if she was going to challenge him further. His arousal increased at the idea. Like last time, he wouldn’t fail to push her into submission.
“I want you, Lucian,” she eventually said, almost to his disappointment.
Taking her in his arms again, he took her mouth with his. He started slowly, sampling her, enjoying her savor, the softness of her lips, and, as always with her, the kiss flourished, thrived. Soon enough, they were panting with need. When she tried to reach in between them, he stopped her. Assembling all the decency he had left in him, he pushed her away, trying to be strong for the both of them. She didn’t try to fight him, understanding it was better this way.
When a moment had passed, and they had both calmed down, she looked up at him. “I cannot help but think that if, three years ago, I hadn’t refused the second dance with you, things might have turned out very differently.” She came closer, an apologetic expression on her face. “I am sorry. I was an idiot.”
“There is nothing to apologize for, Maeve. I was quite dense myself.”
She smiled but didn’t correct him. “If you forgive me, then, would you dance with me?”
Lucian scowled, sorry to not be able to comply. “I am not able to dance anymore,” he explained, bending to touch his bad knee.
“Then we will go slow.”
“You want to dance here, without any music?”
With a smile, she put her hand on his mouth, silencing him, making him listen. Over the sound of the rain, they could hear the faint sound of the music from the ballroom. He smiled under her palm and she released him.
She removed her shoes, a pair of green heels with pink pearls, kicking them away. And when he sent her a questioning look, she shrugged her shoulders. “They are very uncomfortable, and I want this to last for as long as possible.”
She came to him and took his hand as she wrapped the other arm around his chest, resting her hand between his shoulder blades, pressed closely against him. Amused by this unfamiliar posture, he put his arm over her shoulders and held her tight.
In rhythm with the music, they swung together, turning slowly on their feet, as he held their joined hands near his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, enjoying their last moments before God knows how long.
When the time came to go back, his heart ached to see she had been crying, and he kissed her tenderly, before forcing himself to leave her room. To leave her.
But he would come back. He had promised.
【22】Redeeming Confessions
Maeve was trying not to go mad with anxiety. There was no reason for her to be so worried. He had promised to come back, and he would. Admittedly, she didn’t know when, but time was irrelevant, as long as he came back to her.
She wanted to try and act natural, as if she wasn’t under great mental distress, but she feared she was failing at it. Her appetite was gone, her mind constantly drifted away, and she was barely able to hold a conversation. It was clear her family was beginning to see something was wrong with her, and she did not want to have to answer their question. What could she tell them, anyway? ‘Oh, yes, I worry about a man, whom I barely know, to whom I am not engaged, and with whom I have had illicit interactions.’
Nevertheless, she was trying, even though she was failing, not to let herself fall apart.
She had successfully managed Sunday, the day after the ball, enjoying her siblings’ presence, spending time with her family. On Monday, the day he was leaving London, her mood had hit a small bump, and she had cried for a short while in her bedroom, but nothing too critical. Tuesday, they had been on a family outing, and she had been distracted most of the day, as they had visited the zoo, then the Royal botanic gardens. It hadn’t stopped her from panicking that very evening, when alone in her bed.
Today was Wednesday, and today his boat was leaving the country. As she paced her room, Maeve checked the clock. It was 10 am. When did boats usually sail away? At dawn? Didn’t they have to wait for the tide? But then, which one, low or high?
Feeling herself spiraling, she tried to calm down. Lucian was coming back. He wouldn’t die. He had promised. Also, he wasn’t even going to be on the battlefield, so he wouldn’t even get a scratch. But what if Napoleon won? Wouldn’t they raid the encampment, looking for whoever was left alive?
Unable to control herself, she felt her breathing get faster. Her lungs were suddenly too small to get enough air, and she couldn’t inhale properly. Her head spun from the lack of oxygen, her limbs becoming too weak to carry her. She fell to her knees, knowing she was on the verge of a panic attack. One with a magnitude she’d never endured before.
As her body was failing her, leaving her lying on the carpet, her mind was bouncing around in her head, invaded with questions and worries. What if he never came back? What if he died hundreds of miles away from her? What if he was her only chance at happiness? She would never meet another one like him. No man could ever compete with Lucian Thorne.
Feeling desperate like she never had before, she rolled on her side, hugging her knees in a fetal position, waiting for all this to go away. Images of Lucian’s bloody corpse, lost in the middle of the battlefield, filled her mind, rendering her numb with grief and despair.
She had no idea of how long she stayed like this, crying silently, her tears wetting the fabric of the carpet under her temple, her sorrow never fading. The door opened before her, and she barely noticed. Vaguely, she registered it was Ailia, and her sister stayed unmoving for a few seconds, before she rushed to her, kneeling on the floor before her. Maeve couldn’t do anything, her body numb, her mind cloudy.
Ailia grabbed her face and forced her to look at her. She was saying something, worried, but only a few words reached Maeve, sounding as if they came from very far. “Maeve… answer me… What happened… What is going on…”
She didn’t answer, barely understanding her sister’s words. Ailia grabbed her shoulders, made her sit up, and shook her, forcing Maeve to get out of her apathetic state.
“AIlia?” she mumbled.
“Who did this to you, Maeve? Tell me!”
Yes, who did this to me? Maeve thought. Lucian. But he hadn’t done this to her. She did this to herself. “What if he never comes back?” Maeve asked her sister with a broken voice, her tears flowing again. “What if he dies?”
“Who are you talking about, binak ?”
“Lucian,” she managed to explain, feeling her lungs clench again.
“Baron Worthington? You and him…?”
Maeve nodded, before bursting into tears, her breathing erratic, her limbs trembling. Ailia helped her down on the carpet, and she moved behind her to spoon her, hugging her tightly. She kept murmuring reassuring things in her ear, promising it would be all right, he wouldn’t die, he would come back.
Eventually, Maeve’s breathing became more fluid, and her tears ceased. Ailia still didn’t let go of her, holding her in a reassuring embrace.
“I am sorry, Ailia,” Maeve said when she trusted her voice again, not meeting her sister’s eyes. “I couldn’t understand why you would choose a man over me. It didn’t make any sense to me.”
“But now you get it?”
Maeve nodded. She wriggled around to face her sister, and she took her hands in hers, holding them tightly between them. “I feel so stupid, binak . Five months! Who can be this obtuse?”
“Obviously, you can,” answered Ailia with a smile. Maeve smiled back, and her sister released one of her hands before running it on Maeve’s face, to dry her wet cheeks and put the stranded hair back in their place. “So… Worthington?”
At the mention of Lucian, Maeve felt a ball of anguish gather in her throat.
Ailia quickly calmed her down with a soothing caress on her cheek. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t really know. It just sort of did.”
“I thought he was a pompous idiot.”
“He is,” Maeve confirmed, making Ailia chuckle. “But he is so much more, Ailia. He is gentle, compassionate, tender… Also, when he kisses me, binak , I have never felt like I belonged somewhere so much.”
“So the two of you kissed?”
“A few times,” admitted Maeve, feeling her face heat up.
“Did you do more?”
Maeve blushed even redder. “A little,” she confessed. Ailia gave her a false judgemental look, and Maeve bit her lips in embarrassment. “It is just that… It feels so right when I am in his arms. I could stay there forever, kissing him, enjoying the proximity, the shivers…”
Ailia gave her a strange, confused look, and Maeve realized she might be oversharing a little. “Oh, come on. You have been engaged for five months. You cannot pretend you do not know what I mean.”
“Thomas and I have been following the rules.”
“Really? So you have never kissed him?”
“A couple of times,” Ailia admitted, blushing slightly.
“Was there… hmm… Did he…” Maeve hesitated, not sure how to formulate her question. “Was there any tongue involved?”
Ailia’s eyes widened, and she protested, scandalized. “Maeve, you floozy! People don’t… It cannot… It isn’t proper.” Maeve didn’t answer; she stared at her sister, barely holding back a grin. “Is it really a thing?” Ailia wondered after a moment, doubting herself.
“Wait until you try it, before calling me a floozy.”
“I am sure what you are talking about is reserved for debauchers and rascals. My fiancé is a gentleman. He surely wouldn’t do such things.”
“Then, you are going to miss out on something pretty incredible. Wait a minute. Did you just call my man a debauched or a rascal?”
Ailia giggled and gave her a quizzical look. “So, he is your man, then?”
Maeve’s smile faded off, and she frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Did the two of you not speak of the future?”
“We did. We agreed we would try to see where this leads once he comes back. However, we never spoke of engagement or marriage. As much as I want him, I do not know yet if I want to marry him.”
“I see… And when will he come back?”
“When the war is over.” Maeve’s voice cracked, and a fresh set of tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, binak -”
Before Ailia could finish, they were interrupted by their father’s voice. “Is everything all right in here? Have you two fought each other to exhaustion?”
They both turned to look at their perplexed father, standing in the door frame. Yes, they must have been quite a sight, laying on the floor, face to face, in their morning dresses.
“We are fine, papa,” Ailia said.
The man nodded, still confused, and after a short hesitation, he disappeared. A few seconds passed when his imposing silhouette came back. “It is good to see the two of you talking again,” he noted, before leaving, for good this time.
The sisters retook their positions, and Maeve smiled warmly. “I have missed you so much, binak .”
“I have missed you too, you pigheaded idiot.” Ignoring the well-deserved dig, Maeve hugged her sister tightly, trying to make up for the lost time.
After a while, they released each other. “Now,” Ailia started, “I propose we get out of this uncomfortable, dirty carpet, and move to your bed so that you can tell me everything about this idyll between you and the brooding Baron Worthington.”
Maeve laughed, not sure she would call it an idyll, but they helped each other up, and moved to the bed, to lie down in the exact same position, but feeling much more comfortable.
They spent the rest of the morning talking, catching back with what they had missed, and when someone came to fetch them for lunch, they asked to be served a plate here. They ate it on the bed, and the whole thing felt like a strange picnic. When Maeve was done telling Ailia about her and Lucian, having omitted the most salacious parts, she asked her twin about the wedding, and what had been planned so far.
Over a hundred and fifty people were coming, from the extended families to the close friends, and they hoped the weather would be sunny, in order to be able to enjoy the sumptuous family domain. On the first day, the guests would arrive, be given their rooms, and the few of them who were scheduled to arrive in the morning, the close family, would eat with them at noon. Then for the evening, a ball, to celebrate the future husband and wife. On the second day, in the morning, they would marry in the estate’s chapel.
Maeve accepted instantly when Ailia asked her if she would be her maid of honor.
After the ceremony, a reception with the guests and the neighbors would follow, lasting until late in the afternoon. Another ball was planned for the second evening, to celebrate the newly married couple, even grander than the one the day before. On the third day, some guests would leave, and they had planned a day of entertainment, with games and outside activities, if the weather allowed it, until the newlyweds would leave in the afternoon for their honeymoon.
Ailia and her fiancé had chosen to go on a six weeks trip to Italy, via boat. When Maeve had noted that it was ridiculous to go so far, only to remain locked in a bedroom the whole time, Ailia had shoved her away, embarrassed.
“No, you are right,” Maeve conceded. “The view will be lovely when you open a window to let the steam out of the room.”
“Maeve!” Ailia scolded, pinning her on the mattress. They both struggled, trying to dominate the other, wanting to see who was the strongest.
Maeve was on top, holding Ailia’s hands away, when their mother entered the room, making them freeze. “Oh,” said the woman, disappointed. “Your father told me the two of you had reconciled. I guess he was wrong.”
Maeve laughed and released her sister. “No, we are good, mom,” she explained. Ailia sat up and nodded to confirm.
Their mother stared at them with puppy eyes, growing emotional, and Maeve and Ailia both made some room between them, before opening their arms, inviting their mother to join. The Duchess didn’t hesitate and crawled on the bed with them. The twins hugged her, and the three of them lied on the covers like this for a moment.
“Maeve will be my maid of honor,” Ailia announced.
“That is great, my angels,” said their mother, hugging them tighter.
At this exact moment, Maeve decided she was going to be all right. She was surrounded by so much love, she wouldn’t let her anxiety retake the upper hand. She would wait for Lucian, for weeks, for months, for years, and she would find her strength in the love her family had for her. For their sake, she wouldn’t fall apart anymore.
【23】Early Return
Two weeks… Lucian couldn’t believe his luck. For the first time in his life, he was willing to believe there was a god up there, pulling strings. He had only been out of the country for two weeks, and he was already back, unharmed, continuing life as if nothing had happened.
However, it had happened, and Lucian now knew he was never going back to war again.
After his departure from Douvres, two weeks ago, he had rapidly joined the officers, posted in the general headquarters, in Waterloo. He had been glad to see a lot of familiar faces, and Wellington had welcomed him as an old friend. The battle plans were already well advanced, and Lucian had studied them, before giving his insight, correcting a few liabilities he had perceived.
They had spent the week organizing the garrisons, food supplies, and training the men. Most of the soldiers had never been to war before, and they had very little time to turn them into acceptable fighters.
On the fifteenth, Thursday, they were still organizing when they had heard Napoleon had crossed the frontier and entered Belgium territory. They had tried their best to coordinate themselves with Prince Blücher, who commanded the Prussian army. The day after, Friday the sixteenth, the Emperor had launched an attack on the Coalition and Blücher’s army simultaneously. Whereas Wellington had managed to hold the lines, the Prussians had been forced to retreat.
It had only been Saturday morning that they had learned of the Prussians’ defeat, and Wellington had ordered the troops to move back up North, near Waterloo, choosing a more suitable battlefield.
That day had been filled with shouting and yelling, moving garrisons around, preparing for the actual battle. Lucian had dealt with the men in his corps, trying to rouse the morals and entice courage. Then, after a long day of stress and complications, the rain had come. Although it hadn’t been a good sign at first, since a muddy field was never easy to navigate on, this dreaded rain had turned out to be their salvation.
On Sunday, they were ready since dawn to face the French Emperor, but the man had delayed, hoping to be able to move his heavy artillery around, but the drenched grounds wouldn’t allow it. The day had been a succession of attacks and retreats from both camps. Wellington was trying his best to hold the French men away, waiting for Blücher to arrive, as promised, with the Prussian army.
The battle was going nowhere. They were losing as much as they were killing. When Blücher finally arrived, attacking the French army from the southeast, Wellington and the coalition army were holding the north side, in an effort to prevent Napoleon from reaching Brussels. With a few more efforts, with the help of the Prussians, they had managed to discourage the French troops, and the soldiers had scattered, fleeing the battle. From there, the rest of the battle had been dealt with in a matter of minutes. Napoleon, surrounded by his most loyal men, had heroically tried to hold on, but not enough soldiers were left for the Emperor to be saved.
On the following day, Monday, they had assessed the losses, Napoleon locked in a cell. Despite the slightly superior numbers on the French side, and Napoleon’s renowned heavy artillery, the losses of the Coalition side were fewer than the Emperor’s.
On Tuesday, Lucian had spoken to Field Marshal Wellington about leaving as soon as possible for London. Wednesday, at dawn, he had been allowed to leave the camp, and had ridden to Ostend, where he had miraculously found a boat, leaving the very afternoon for Hastings. They had reached land at first lights, and Lucian had ridden all day to reach London as soon as possible.
He had arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and after a quick bath, had taken the time to send a few letters and notes, to let the people closest to him know he was back on British soil, alive and well.
Two battles. Lucian had only seen two battles. Admittedly, Waterloo had been the most gruesome one he had ever seen in his military career. They were still waiting on the numbers, but they estimated over fifty thousand men had met their death on that bloody Sunday.
This excess, this waste, had been the last drop. He was done seeing and inflicting death. He had had enough of it to last him a few lifetimes. Furthermore, except for a few moments, too caught up in action, he had been thinking he would rather be elsewhere. During the whole endeavor, he had wished he could have been back in London, spending time with his new, and much more charming obsession, Maeve.
He hadn’t sent her a note. He wanted to surprise her, to announce he was back in person. Although, he wasn’t sure how to do it. He couldn’t exactly call on her right away, as it would seem strange to her family that the first person he would visit coming back from the war was her.
Lucian pressed his face on his hand, annoyed not to be able to think clearly. He was exhausted and needed a good rest. In over two weeks, he hadn’t had a full night of sleep, and the prospect of reuniting with his very comfortable, very familiar bed, filled him with satisfaction. He was thinking maybe a note in the morning might not be such a bad idea for Maeve when a valet knocked on the opened door of his study.
“Yes?”
“my lord, John Delawney is here to see you.”
Getting on his feet, Lucian joined the valet who guided him to one of the parlors. John had been the first person to whom he had sent a note, two hours earlier. Apparently, his good friend had missed him as much as he had.
When they saw each other, both men smiled and hugged.
“You lucky bastard!” John exclaimed, pushing him away to see if he had any injuries. “I cannot believe you are back already. And without a damned scratch! I thought you’d be gone for months.”
Lucian smiled, shrugging. “I never imagined it would be so quick either.” John shook his head, an incredulous smile on his face. Lucian looked down and noticed his friend was wearing a formal suit. “Where are you headed?”
“I was getting ready to go to Lord Beckman’s ball when I received your note. But I would rather spend the evening with you, celebrating your return. The Langstons can wait.”
At the mention of the name, Lucian’s head whipped back in John’s direction. “Are they attending?”
“Yes, I was told so. Also, before you say anything, Lady Langston and I had a discussion, and—”
“If you want, we could both go,” Lucian interrupted, thinking it was the perfect opportunity to see Maeve.
“Really? But you just got back, and you hate those soirees.”
“Yes, well… I could surely enjoy the distraction, and I don’t want to ruin your plans.”
John hesitated for an instant, probably wondering why his best friend wasn’t quite acting like himself. Apparently deciding it was a mystery to be solved another day, John agreed, and Lucian excused himself to change into a more suitable outfit.
Not even an hour later, both men were entering the ballroom of Beckman Hall. They were quite late, and the party was well advanced already. The room was unusually crowded, and the atmosphere was light and festive. People were celebrating this new victory over the French Emperor.
During the carriage ride, Lucian had detailed to John the gist of what had happened, and how the main battle had unfolded. John was now itching to recount it to his friends, so after making sure it was fine by Lucian, he left him to join them.
As soon as John left him, Lucian didn’t waste time. The instant his friend was out of sight, Lucian scanned the room to find Maeve. She was, after all, the only reason as to why he was here, participating in a social event he hated, on the very day of his return.
Among the dancers, he saw the Duke and the Duchess of Leeds, which gave him the hope Maeve was actually here. He persevered until, finally, he spotted her. She wasn’t facing him, but he would recognize this silhouette anywhere. He elbowed his way to Maeve, not detaching his eyes from her.
He was halfway there when she eventually turned around, and his excitement suddenly fell flat. Even though he wasn’t close enough to distinguish the small scar on her cheek, Lucian knew instantly this wasn’t Maeve, but her sister. He gritted his teeth, disappointed, and resumed his search for the woman.
After five minutes of intense searching, Lucian, defeated, had to accept the fact she wasn’t in the room. Then it hit him. She didn’t like crowds. How many times now had he found her having isolated herself during social events?
He was on his way to explore the gardens when a familiar voice greeted him from behind. “Good evening, Lord Worthington.”
Lucian turned around and found himself facing Ailia Langston. “Good evening, my lady.”
“It is good to see you back, unarmed, my lord. When did you arrive in London?”
“This afternoon.”
“You must have left Belgium shortly after the war was won, to be back so early,” she noted. “Some urgent business you had here?”
She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow up, and at this very moment, she looked exactly like Maeve. Although the thought of Maeve warmed him inside, the woman before him didn’t phase him. Despite the fact that she was identically beautiful, Ailia Langston didn’t awaken his most carnal pulsions. Just Maeve. Only Maeve. He had to find her.
The woman was still waiting for an answer, and Lucian decided to close this conversation to go explore the exterior. “Indeed, my lady. I have an urgent matter I need to attend to, right now.”
A hint of a smile appeared on her face, and she looked around the room. “I am afraid my sister didn’t come tonight.”
“Is that so?” Lucian asked, abandoning his search quest with disappointment. Only then did he realize that the woman might know what was happening between him and her sister.
“Ever since she heard that the war had been won with so many casualties, she is too anxious to leave her room, let alone the house,” Lady Langston explained with a low voice. “She has been worried sick for you, ever since you left.”
“I am back now, uninjured.”
“And I won’t miss telling her, as soon as we get back home,” promised the young woman with a warm smile. With that, she curtsied and left him to go back to her friends.
Lucian stayed there, unmoving. She had been worried about him. For two weeks. How could he have done this to her? How could he have abandoned her, when he knew she suffered from anxiety and panic attacks? Feeling like an arse, he moved to find Delawney. He wasn’t in the mood to stay here anymore.
Maeve would hear the news of his return tonight from her sister, and not from a note tomorrow, which was better, but still not enough. He needed to ask for her forgiveness. To promise her he wouldn’t abandon her again. That she was all that mattered now, and that war was ancient history for him. He would never go back.
Frustrated to be stuck here, Lucian tried to think of when he could see her again, when they would have a moment alone, together. Next ball? Next week? It wasn’t close enough. He needed to see her now, or he would go mad with the thought.
Lucian saw Maeve’s parents, and it made him realize the solution was right here. She was alone in her bedroom, which he knew the location of. Maybe right now was the best moment to go and see her after all.
Yoooo, watch this video guys. It’s super interesting, and an important part of European history! All the event I will talk about in this book regarding the Battle of Waterloo are real, although Lucian wasn’t among the officers 🤪
【24】Gifted Hour
Maeve was sitting in an armchair, her legs folded before her, staring at the dying fire in her fireplace. She was holding a book, but she hadn’t even glimpsed at it for the past hour, unable to focus on the words.
The war was over. They had won. Napoleon was defeated once more. Lucian would come back. She was trying her best to cling to the idea that he had survived, that he hadn’t been hurt, and that he would be back as promised. However, a dark part of her couldn’t help but have doubts.
She had promised her sister she wouldn’t let herself get sick with worry, for the sake of her family, and she had more or less managed for the past two weeks. But now, with the war over, now that she was so close to having her answer, she was panicking again.
Her parents were out to a party, along with Ailia, to whom Maeve had promised she would be fine if they left her tonight. However, now that she was alone, her younger siblings sleeping soundly upstairs, she wasn’t fine at all, her mind taking her to dark places.
In all the news she had read, not a single one mentioned the death of an officer. He wasn’t supposed to have been on the battlefield, but what if he had? How do you find a body in the middle of fifty thousand others? What if he had died or been hurt, and no one had noticed, or no one had cared?
A loud crack in the fireplace startled her, making her drop the book she was barely holding. Wondering how long she had been brooding like this, she decided it was time to go to bed, to be brooding there instead, staring at the ceiling.
She unfolded her legs and forced herself up, before picking up the book. As she straightened up, a shiver ran down her spine, and she froze. She didn’t know if it was instinct, premonition, or intuition, but she turned around slowly, knowing someone was behind her.
When she recognized him, the book slipped from her hand again.
Lucian.
He was right there, in front of her opened window, dashing as ever in his impeccable evening suit. Had she finally gone mad and was having visions? Or — her heart dropped at the thought — was he a ghost?
He was staring back at her with the same wonderment in his eyes, unable to make a move, just like her. She felt her throat clutch, and her sight became blurry, tears filling her eyes. He noticed and frowned, before finally moving to her with haste, reaching her in a few steps. His strong arms wrapped around her trembling frame, and she let herself be cradled in his comforting embrace as tears kept flowing down her cheeks. He was too warm to be a ghost, too real to be a vision. It really was Lucian. He was back. He was here.
She cried with relief, the two weeks of worry finally over. He held her tighter in his arms, and she wrapped hers around his solid form.
“Don’t cry, swan,” he begged, as if in pain. “You are breaking my heart.”
She nodded, but the tears didn’t stop. He unwrapped his arms from around her, and tenderly grabbed her face in his hands, forcing her to look up. “I am all right, Maeve. Everything is going to be all right now.”
He bent down slowly and laid a tender kiss on her lips. She felt herself calm down as he was covering her face with butterfly-like kisses, telling her he was never leaving her again, swearing he would always be there for her.
Lucian was back. He hadn’t died in the war, and he was back to her, alive, healthy, and with all his limbs. More tears rolled down her cheeks, from the pure joy she was experiencing. She’d been so scared she’d never hold him again, she couldn’t believe it was really him, his warm body pressed against hers.
Soon, his light, amorous kisses weren’t enough for her, and she brought his lips to her again, to give him a more thorough kiss. Because they hadn’t seen each other in two weeks, and because of the sheer despair they had endured within that time, it quickly got out of hand. With an intensity that equaled their eagerness, they devoured each other, their tongues frantically trying to get more, their teeth clashing…
He forced her away after a moment, and he stared at her, his hungry eyes looking down at her outfit. Only then did she remember she was wearing her nightgown with her open dressing robe hanging on her shoulders. She felt herself blush when he looked back up, locking his eyes onto hers, looking as if he could eat her whole.
“I only came to tell you I was back.”
With a disagreeing pout, Maeve reached for his tie and undid it, unsettling him. She was almost done with the buttons of his jacket when he caught her hands to hold them away.
“We cannot, Maeve.”
“You told me you would give me what I needed when you got back.”
He let out an incredulous laugh, letting go of her wrists, running a trembling hand into his hair. “I also told you we would do things right, swan. You deserve to be courted, to be respected.”
“Can’t we do both?” she asked as she got closer again, resting her palms on his broad chest. She saw his eyes darken, and a smile stretched her lips. This time, Lucian Thorne wasn’t going to win. “Also, I owe you one hour, alone.”
“It hasn’t been two months.”
“I demand that you take it now.”
Her tone was too commanding to be challenged, so she didn’t wait for his answer, and her hands moved to his jacket to undo the few buttons left. She could see he was struggling, his conscience fighting his desires.
“Maeve, sweetheart… I’ll stay if you want, but this cannot be the hour I won.”
“Why?”
“I don’t— I don’t want there to be any possibility that you’re forced to spend that time with me. Not for this.”
His admission touched her greatly, and she met his eyes with an understanding gaze. “I’m not forcing myself, Lucian. But if you’d prefer it that way, I’m gifting you an hour of my time. You’ll get to demand yours whenever you desire.”
She pushed the jacket off his shoulder, and he didn’t stop her. He even helped her by sliding his arms from the sleeves. She then took care of the waistcoat, as he was staring at her, still unsure what to do. He helped her with the waistcoat too, and when she grabbed his shirt, tugging on it to get it out of his pants, he finally regained some control. He took her wrists, holding them in place.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice low, his tone grave.
She nodded, and it seemed to be all he needed. He bent to take her mouth, pressing her against his body, devouring her with intensity. Maeve moaned when she felt the hard, long shape at his groin press on her sensitive flesh. He removed her dressing robe, leaving her with only her thin nightgown.
He moved back a little, looking down at her, and she followed his gaze. Right there, under the translucent fabric, they could clearly see her peaking nipples, begging for some attention.
“One hour might not be enough,” he announced.
“I won’t complain if you go beyond the accorded time.” Her voice was unfamiliar even to her, sultry, low, and altered by desire.
He growled something that sounded like ‘Thank God’ and grabbed her hips firmly to pull her against him. Bending forward, he took one of the defying nipples in his mouth. A shock wave spread through her body as his warm, wet mouth closed around the pebbled tip, over the fabric of her chemise. When he bit it lightly, she moaned as she felt her intimacy throb between her legs. One of his hands left her hip to move up to her other breast, and he teased its tip with expert fingers, pinching it, rolling it under his thumb, as his mouth kept masterfully torturing the other one. Her legs became weak, and she clung onto him to keep her balance. His mouth changed side, and like a starving man, he feasted on her other nipple.
Maeve was already becoming mad with desire, even though none of them were naked yet, and he still hadn’t touched the sweet spot between her legs, the one that was begging for his ministrations. She felt him answer her silent plea as if she had said it out loud, and he fisted her nightgown to hike it up. He let go of her breasts, moving back up to take her mouth again, and his hands grabbed her bare bottom, his fingers eagerly spread so he could hold as much of it as he could, his digits digging into that soft part of her. She moaned, enjoying the sensation of his fingers on her flesh, without any obstacle, skin to skin.
As if she weighed nothing, he lifted her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, letting out a soft cry when her throbbing flesh pressed directly against the fabric of his trousers. He carried her like this across the room, barely limping from his injured leg, and laid her down on the bed. He pulled on her chemise, and she helped him remove it, ending up utterly naked before him.
Laid back, she allowed him to stare at her, his hungry gaze taking in her body, from her pink nipples to her flat stomach, then the patch of black curls between her legs, all the way to her ankles. The room was well lit, and he could certainly see every little detail. She grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze, and when she tried to hide herself, he stopped her.
“Maeve, you have no idea of how long I have wanted to see you like this,” he confessed, bending to kiss her shoulder. He left a slow trail of soft kisses on her, taking his time, savoring her.
This was pure heaven. This moment was utter bliss, with this man worshiping her with his mouth as if she was some pagan goddess.
Lucian was back from Belgium. He was right here, with her, making her body shiver with the most intoxicating feelings she had ever experienced. Her languorous moan when he slipped his tongue into her navel surprised her, her back arching on its own.
His mouth descended lower, and she worried when his chin grazed the soft curls of her intimacy. “Lucian,” she protested, tangling her fingers in his hair to force his head up.
He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers over her body. “Let me do this for you, swan. I promise you will like it.”
She hesitated an instant. She trusted him, especially when it came to her pleasure, but this seemed wrong. Every fiber in her wanted to deny him his lewd request. However, as she was staring into his eyes like this, she knew she couldn’t refuse him anything.
She nodded shyly, and a wicked smile grew on his mouth. Without letting go of her eyes, he moved lower, slipping his shoulders behind her thighs, forcing her legs to spread and bend. She was positively frozen with anticipation, hypnotized by his green eyes.
Both his hands reached around her legs and near her intimacy. With his thumbs, he gently spread the wet folds, breaking the contact of their eyes to glimpse down at her pink, glistening flesh. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as a soft squeal escaped her lips, confounded to be exposed like so.
When his gaze moved up again to meet hers again, she could see in his eyes how much he was enjoying teasing her. He was defying her to back up, to retreat, but she stayed strong, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. When his head began a slow descent toward her throbbing flesh, she tensed but said nothing. His pink tongue darted out, right before he gave her a long lick along the inner folds of her most intimate of places, making her shiver with both pleasure and mortification. She heard a low ‘hmm’ coming from his chest, as if he had sampled something delicious. He licked her again, before locking his mouth over a particularly sensitive spot.
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she let her head fall back on the quilt, a shameless moan leaving her mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair, not minding if she was inflicting any pain on his scalp. She laid there, unable to contain her moans and screams while he ate her — no other words came to mind — as if she was a delicious feast, his tongue flicking over her sensitive bits, his lips sucking, his approving grunts vibrating against the impossibly receptive area.
Lucian seemed ready to do this for hours, apparently enjoying it as much as she was. Within her, the pleasure she’s only known once in her life thanks to him, was building up to impossible heights. Although she wasn’t very familiar with it yet, she knew what the tension that grew in her core would lead to, and she was eager to reach it. Already, she knew it would be even greater than the explosion she’d experienced in the Schwarz’s study, over three weeks ago.
Rapidly, the climax she was desperate for was right there for the taking, and she did everything she could to reach it, writhing her hips to press herself harder on his face, pushing his head closer with her imperious fingers tangled in his dark hair, begging him to satisfy her.
When she finally reached the tipping point, her entire body contracted for a few seconds, paralyzed with pleasure. Then, shivers of ecstasy spread inside of her, making her scream from the intensity of it. She trembled under his care, her skin tingling all over as waves after waves of felicity traveled through her shaking frame. His tongue showed little mercy, slowing its intense pace, but still pushing her to reach further than she already had.
When finally, he deemed he had dragged her pleasure for long enough, Lucian’s tongue moved lower between her legs. Because she’d noticed it before, she knew this was the spot where her wetness gathered, so as she came down, she realized, flustered, that he was feasting on her pleasure.
Oh, this man was wicked…
【25】Resourceful Innocence
Lucian wondered for an instant if he hadn’t died in Belgium and gone to heaven. As he was helping Maeve down from her first orgasm of the night, he couldn’t help but think all this was too good to be true. However, he then realized that were he to die, heaven was not the place he would most likely end up in. He accepted the fact this was real, and it truly was Maeve, naked before him, her fingers clutching his hair almost painfully, her thighs pressed around his head from the intensity of her pleasure, the sweet taste of her orgasm spread on his tongue.
When the last of her tremors passed through her body, and when she relaxed, he moved up, forcing her legs to part wider, as he took his position between them, resting on his forearms not to crush her. He was still wearing most of his formal suit and was clinging onto it as the last rampart to their lust. Maeve looked at him, her eyelids heavy, a dreamy smile on her face, seemingly very satisfied. Her lips were red and swollen, and he guessed she had been biting them in a failed attempt to muffle her screams and sighs of bliss. Tempted, he bent to kiss them, and as usual, her enthusiasm met his.
With determined hands, she tugged at his shirt, trying to get him naked too, and he let out a small laugh in her mouth. “Maeve, darling, I still think we should wait.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to do what is proper.”
She frowned but didn’t stop her attempt to undress him. “You were not so preoccupied with properness a moment ago.”
Lucian growled when she managed to slip her hands under his shirt and grazed the skin of his stomach and chest with the tip of her fingers, letting her feel her nails. “I am not a child. I don’t need someone to make decisions for me,” she insisted.
“It also is my decision to make,” he reminded her.
She stopped sliding her hands over his skin, realizing he also had the right to choose. The doubt that settled in her eyes made him regret his decision.
“So, you do not want to?”
Nudging his hips a little, he let her feel how much he wanted her, but forced himself to smile and kissed her temple. “You deserve what is right, swan. You deserve to keep your options, to be properly courted, and—”
“What if you are what is right?” she interrupted him.
“Do you truly believe it?”
“I don’t believe it, no. I know it, Lucian.” With that said, she lifted her head and kissed him.
Lucian tried to resist a little longer, worried she might regret it if they went too far. She had no experience when it came to lust and passion, so she didn’t know how to hold back, how to control her desires. He, however, didn’t have the same excuse, and as the most experienced of the two, he had to hold strong, for her sake. She would see later how he’d been right to stop it, how refusing her this was in her own interest.
“Lucian, please…” she whimpered when he pushed her hands away again. “Ever since that time in the study, I’ve been wondering what it felt like to have you possess me. I long to feel you inside of me, to be united with you in that manner.”
Her legs were tightly wound around his hips, preventing him from pulling away from her. She was like a siren, her call impossible to fight, her determination fierce. And he was only a man, a mere mortal, unequipped to resist such temptation.
With a groan, he gave up, forgetting about his resolutions. If she was confident this was the right thing, he wasn’t going to argue and make her change her mind. He wanted her too much for that.
This time, when she tugged again at his shirt, he helped her and slipped the garment over his head, throwing it away. He pressed his chest into hers, feeling her small breasts pressing against his torso, the two perky tips making him mad with want. Letting go of her mouth, he bent to take one in his mouth. She didn’t have particularly large breasts, slightly below average, but they were round and firm. Her nipples were a dark shade of pink, and when he teased them enough, they became almost red, like two delicious cherries.
She moaned, and he felt her hands at his waist, struggling to open his pants. Letting go of her, he stood up on the side of the bed, admiring her gorgeous forms. She was watching him, sitting in the middle of the bed, all traces of modesty gone. When he had arrived to find her fretting in the armchair, her hair was loosely braided, but now, they were flowing freely, framing her face, forming a silky curtain of darkness that went all the way to her waist.
Impatient, he pulled on his boots, nearly losing his balance, bent to remove his socks, and sent his hand to the left row of buttons that closed his breeches. Her eyes were closely following the movement of his hands, and he slowly undid the buttons of his pants. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it down, along with his underpants, and straightened up, entirely naked before her.
Her eyes widened when she saw his erection, and Lucian winced. He knew his cock was particularly imposing. It was proportional to the rest of him, in all truth. For the first time, he would have to make it work with a virgin. He knew he would hurt her, whether he was careful or not. There was no way he would fit inside of her without a certain amount of discomfort. However, he would try. For her.
To his surprise, she wasn’t scared, only curious, and a lovely blush spread through her face and chest as her eyes were analyzing his shaft. Before she could start making calculations and realize she should worry, Lucian climbed into the bed again and laid next to her, taking her in his arms, kissing her tenderly. She allowed the distraction for a short moment, and soon, he felt her hand shyly reach for his shaft. He gritted his teeth as she explored it, her fingers moving on the hard flesh with light strokes. His groan landed in her soft mouth when she closed her fingers around it, and she misunderstood his reaction, releasing him instantly.
With a firm hand, she pushed on his shoulder, trying to make him roll on his back, but he resisted.
“I want to see you,” she argued.
He hesitated an instant but decided to comply. If she was to allow him inside of her, she at least had the right to get familiar with this new, male body. He rolled onto his back and waited as she sat down, folding her legs underneath her.
Maeve’s hand grazed his chest, her palm caressing the light fur on it. Her delicate fingers found a scar and followed it before she bent to kiss it tenderly, as if she was trying to appease the pain he had endured. She found another mark and gave it the same treatment, ever so tender. With a thorough inspection of his chest, arms, and stomach, she found all the traces of the war on him, and each one of his scars got a kiss. It all felt strangely therapeutic, having her soothing him like this, her soft lips healing him, her long hair caressing his skin.
When she was out of flesh to explore, she turned her attention back to his throbbing length, and she wrapped her hand around its base before testing the sensation of it in her palm, following the veins, familiarizing herself with the texture.
“Is it always this big?” she wondered, confused. Lucian swallowed nervously, worried to scare her away. He shook his head. “I cannot imagine going on with my day with this dangling around. And those…” she added, taking the two heavy masses underneath in her other hand.
Lucian let out a delirious laugh and had to remind himself she was innocent, and that despite the fact she was touching him so shamelessly, she had no experience whatsoever.
“Swan, if you keep doing this, I am afraid it will be all over way too soon.”
She looked at him, confused. “Do you mean I am pleasuring you?” Lucian nodded, slightly disconcerted. “But I am hardly doing anything.”
“I want you too much. You barely need to do anything for me to find my release.” He then realized it would be pretty embarrassing when, once inside of her, he would come after three thrusts.
“I don’t understand. You pleasured me, and yet it isn’t over. But if I do the same to you, it will be? How is that?”
“Men need rest between each… erm… time.”
“How long?”
Her keen interest and enthusiasm struck him with yet another wave of lust, and he clenched his teeth. This woman was going to kill him. He wanted to satisfy her curiosity, but he didn’t want to shock her. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to get back to this insane level of arousal after a release, not with her, but he couldn’t let her pleasure him like this. On the other hand, if he could come once before starting, he didn’t doubt it would help him keep a straight head, and hurt her less.
“With you, not very long,” he eventually admitted, having taken his decision. He watched as a large smile stretched Maeve’s lips, and he felt her grip on his shaft tighten.
“What should I do?” she asked, ready to learn. Lucian wrapped his hand around hers and made her clench his flesh tighter. He then moved her hand up and down, enjoying beyond words the feeling of her soft palm on him.
He released her hand and let her take control. He watched as she kept going, focused on her task, her brow slightly furrowed as she didn’t look away from her ministrations.
Shortly after starting, she stopped abruptly with another question. “Lucian… can I… use my mouth? As you did?”
Lucian’s cock twitched in her hand, and he felt a few drops of precum leak. “Bloody hell, Maeve!” She stared at him, confused. “You cannot… Propers ladies do not… do that,” he tried to explain. She suddenly seemed ashamed to have had the thought, and Lucian cursed himself for making her doubt her sensual instincts. “What I mean is that it isn’t a practice women usually offer of their own volition. Especially virgins. People tend to not consider it proper.”
She seemed reassured and bit her lip. “I don’t care what people think. Just you, Lucian. Do you find it proper and do you want me to use my mouth?”
He stared at her, his bold swan, so shamelessly asking if he wanted her to pleasure him with her mouth. He couldn’t help but feel like he actually was the inexperienced one here.
Sending his hand to her face, he grazed the plump curve of her lower lip with his thumb. “Yes, I would love for you to use your mouth.”
Pleased with his answer, she took her position and asked him how she should do it. He explained to her how to take his cock in her mouth, how to pump it in and out, and warned her of what would happen at the end, asking if she wanted his release in her mouth or not. She argued she wanted to do the same as he had, and feast on his pleasure. Just knowing that almost made him come.
When finally she took his cock in the warm confines of her mouth, Lucian knew he wouldn’t last long under this sweet torture. It felt so good to have her lips on him, her tongue… Maeve Langston, the most beautiful, frustrating, strong-headed woman he’d ever met, had his cock in her mouth. What had he ever done to deserve such a heavenly treat?
Even though she lacked experience, her determination and her enthusiasm compensated handsomely. Fisting her lush hair, he pushed it out of the way to watch it happening, struggling to believe this was real. He watched as her plump lips slid along the veiny flesh, looking at her going up and down on it at a steady rhythm as she hollowed her cheeks. She seemed to be enjoying this as much as he was, her small, lustful moans vibrating across his member. Barely a minute into it, he felt the familiar tightening of his balls and knew he was seconds from finding his release. Unable to contain the carnal instinct, he pressed his hand on her nape, holding her in place as he spilled his seed down her throat with a savage roar.
He came harder than ever before, his hips thrusting upward, each of his muscles contracted as if in agony. She stayed unmoving, docile, drinking his essence as it came, and her sensual submission drove him to the brinks of madness. When it finally stopped, he loosened his grip on her nape and she released him. Straightening up, she offered him a very proud smile, happy to have pleased him so much.
Hastily sitting up, he clasped her neck again, but this time to pull her in for a savage kiss. She allowed it, and soon, they were rolling on her bed, a messy tangle of limbs, their naked skins pressed together. As suspected, his erection wasn’t going anywhere.
He rolled over her, nesting his hips in the cradle of her legs, and reached to grab his erection between them. She sighed when he teased her clit with the head of it, and her hips rolled in a sinuous move. He continued rubbing himself on her, working her to another peak. It was pure torture to hold off, to not lower his cock’s head of an inch and enter her, but he endured it for her. When she was panting, writhing, and begging under him, so close to her climax she could probably taste it, he positioned himself at her wet entrance.
She realized what was happening, and she opened her eyes to stare into his. A new kind of redness spread over her entire face, and it was exactly what he needed to be reminded of her innocence. All of this was new to her, and he needed to be as patient as he could manage.
Slowly, he pushed himself in, highly aware of the incredible gift she was offering him. It was one he would cherish for the rest of his life.
As Lucian’s hard flesh gradually nudged into her damp opening, Maeve abruptly realized this was really happening. She was about to become as close to Lucian as two human beings could ever be.
Although she wanted this with everything she had, hesitation made its way into her mind. The risk of what they were about to do came back to her, and the possibility of pregnancy almost made her push him away. Her own mother had been subjected to one, and as a child of sin born out of the sacred bonds of marriage, Maeve couldn’t bear the idea of imposing such a life on another being.
“Lucian—” she started, interrupted by the foreign sensation when he pushed himself further in. “Lucian, wait.”
He recoiled, pulling out of her completely, and gazed down at her, his green eyes scanning hers with worry, his scar reminding her once more that he’d almost died. This had to be fate. The man had almost perished at least ten times, and yet, he was here, in her arms, alive and well. The very man she had started by hating, and now, was absolutely and utterly infatuated with. He was the only man who could ever make her feel that way, the only one she could ever want to such an extent.
“What is it, darling?” he asked. The endearment had her heart melt, and she reached up to caress the side of his face, her thumb gently grazing the portion of his scar on his cheekbone.
“I can’t… I don’t want to be pregnant,” she explained. Although she was quite innocent, she knew there existed ways to succumb to this particular sin without risking the conception of a child. She wasn’t sure which ones, but she suspected Lucian was more educated than her on that matter.
“I don’t have any French letters with me,” he answered, the disappointment in his voice hard to miss. “There’s another way, but there’s still a slim risk.”
“How slim?”
“If I’m fully in control, very slim. But you’ll have to let me move away from you, even if you want to keep me close.”
To support his explanation, his callous hand grazed her skin from her hip to her knee, and then lowered along her calf to reach her ankle, which was hooked with her other one. In the heat of the moment, she’d wrapped her legs around him, desperate to hold him tightly against her.
Understanding his silent request, she removed her legs, so they rested on each side of him, instead of clamped around his solid form. “Do you think you can remain fully in control?” she asked.
“With you, Maeve, all bets are off. But I promise I will do everything I can not to put you in a delicate situation.”
She hesitated, having a hard time grasping what their odds were exactly. If the chances of a child being conceived were slim, she didn’t see the point in pushing him away. She wanted him with desperate passion, wanted that part of him to enter her, to make her his. She would be sure to let him pull away when he’d need to, and nothing bad would result from their union.
“If you want to wait, Maeve, we can wait. As I’ve said, I’m willing to court you following the rules. I want to do what is right.”
Being reminded of how much of an upstanding man he was, Maeve relaxed. As a high-ranking military officer, he had strong morals and ethics, which meant he would do the right thing were she to end up pregnant. He’d always respected her virtue when he could have abused of her shameful need for him instead. Lucian was a decent man who wouldn’t miss doing right by her no matter what.
“No,” she answered, framing his face to pull him toward her. “I want you, Lucian. I want you now.”
Slipping her tongue past his familiar lips, she kissed him with intensity, encouraging him to go on with their endeavor. Lucian let go of his doubts and returned her initiative, his expert mouth dominating hers in a delicious way.
When he reached between them and pressed his warm shaft to her entrance again, she moaned but didn’t protest. She wanted this so much. She wanted to feel him in there, to let him be the first — and most likely only — man who’d ever take her in such a way.
No one other than Lucian Thorne could ever make her this shameless and needy.
Only him.
【26】Overwhelming Joy
Regardless of how much she wanted him inside of her intimacy, Maeve couldn’t help but recoil at the sharp pain that pierced through her when he reached deeper. He was incredibly gentle and tender, but her body was fighting his intrusion against her own will.
“No, Maeve… Stay relaxed,” he whispered, kissing her thoroughly. She imagined he was trying to distract her, and she welcomed it, focusing on his tongue unabashedly grazing against hers instead of the spot where their body joined.
It worked and her intimate muscles loosened, allowing him to breach deeper. He looked down between them, and she did the same, curious to see how much of it was inside of her now. Shock spread through her mind upon seeing only three inches were filling her. It felt like so much more than that. He pressed further, delicate, and she bit her lower lip to muffle the moan of discomfort it triggered.
Dear God, she’d never be able to take him whole. Barely a third of him was in, and she couldn’t imagine the rest would find room in her recalcitrant flesh. Determined to take more, he pushed in another inch, steadily, and she whimpered at the pressure, pressing her forehead in the sweaty crook of his neck.
“I am sorry, swan, I wish I could do this without hurting you.”
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” she pretended with a brave smile.
Lucian pushed one more inch in after retreating slightly, and she cried, her hands flying to his chest to push him away. It was evident he hated to be the cause of her discomfort, and with a groan, he carefully pulled out, about to give up.
“No, don’t stop!” she begged, grabbing his firm behind with both hands to press him back onto her. “The pain will pass.”
Grabbing her jaw, he forced her to look into his eyes. There was something soft in his green irises, a tenderness she hadn’t seen much from him. Slowly, his hips started a slow roll, conquering her with delicate nudges.
“When I was away, you were all I could think of,” he told her. “Even in the middle of a war, you were the only thing on my mind. My darling, ever since I met you, three years ago, you have been in my dreams, in my thoughts… I would have never imagined being here one day, deserving your affections.”
As he was speaking, he was pushing himself in, more and more, with the smallest thrusts, subduing her virginal tightness. His words worked wonders at distracting her, and when she looked down to check his advance, she noted that well over half of him had entered her. A moan that had nothing to do with pain escaped her lips when he retreated to gently push back into her. Clearly, he was doing something right, and the pleasure of his intrusion was already surpassing the pain.
“I cannot tell you how many times I have imagined this, being inside of you, how many dreams I have had of this, then waking up hard, needing you.”
By the end of his lustful declaration, he was fully buried in her, his entire length having miraculously found room in her silky channel. The hair on his lower abdomen had met hers, and when she looked down again to glimpse at his shaft, she was delighted to witness the total union of their bodies, his hard flesh having entirely disappeared into her. Carefully, he attempted a few rolls of his hips, moving in and out, and she watched as his thick girth appeared and vanished between them.
The pain was still there, lingering on her flesh, but the pleasurable sensations overcame it handsomely. She could feel him , grazing a part of her no one had touched before, not even her. She could feel the round head of him, rubbing her inner walls, reaching a spot deep into her.
Looking up, she met his eyes, dismayed by what she could read in them. He was staring at her with such intensity, such devotion, it was too much for her heart to handle.
She loved him.
For so many reasons, she was in love with the man.
But this, this incredible moment, their intimacy, his tenderness, the connection they shared… Maeve was certain, beyond any possible doubt, that she was entirely in love with Lucian. There was no way she could ever cherish anyone else like this. He was perfect, despite everything she might have reproached him in the past. He was meant for her, and she could feel it in her heart.
What she felt toward him was so strong, it had to be love. That incommensurable feeling she’d only heard of, this deep affection two people shared, this unbreakable link between two humans…
Overwhelmed by her thoughts, she lifted her face to demand his mouth, needing to express her newly found feelings. Never halting his thrusts, Lucian kissed her back, reaching for her knee to pull it higher on his side, opening her more. The new angle nearly rendered her mad with pleasure, so she mirrored the position with her other leg, pressing on his lower back with her heels, wanting more, wanting everything.
Pulling away from her, he gazed down at her with a heated expression. “After tonight, after this first painful time, I will take you, over and over, until we fit perfectly; until there is no more pain, only pleasure.”
The mere idea that there would be more of this in the future delighted her, and she gripped his back, her nails digging into the tense muscles there. His momentum grew harsher as if he knew she could take more, that she needed it. With her hips, she followed the momentum of his, countering each shove, desperate to reach the peak that was growing between them.
Every time she begged for more, his intensity increased, and soon, she was crying her pleasure, their sweaty skins colliding together, the tension between her legs nearing the point of no return. One of his hands reached for one of her breasts as he bent to kiss her, and between the lascivious graze of his tongue on hers and the acute sensation of his finger pinching a nipple, she tilted into bliss.
His name was on her lips as she trembled beneath him, her hips jolting from the astonishing sensations. Her whole body clenched around him to keep him as close as she could. When he tried to move away, she forbade it, refusing to let him pull even an inch out. As an avid horse rider, she had what it took to prevent him from moving away, her muscular legs holding him in place tightly.
“Maeve,” he groaned. “You need to let go of me.”
Remembering what he’d told her, she fought through the pleasure to unlock her legs and free him, still subjected to the impossibly high pleasure he’d inflicted.
Lucian pulled out of her spasming channel to press his shaft against her drenched folds instead. He ground on her as a loud roar breached his clenched jaw while he found his release. She felt the spurts of it between them, splashing on her lower stomach, warm and thick.
Eventually, both of them stopped jolting and groaning, but they stayed immobile for a while. Their heaving frames remained tangled like so, their panting breaths struggling to return to a normal pace. With gentle touches, Maeve ran her hands over the solid muscles of his back, appreciating the firmness under his skin, enjoying the layer of perspiration covering it. He’d given everything she’d wanted and more.
Little by little, his weight on her increased, to the point where it became hard to breathe. She realized he was falling asleep, and an indulging smile grew on her lips. He must have been worn indeed. He’d traveled all the way from Belgium so hastily as soon as the war was over, eager to find her.
“Lucian,” she called him, grazing his back slightly. He didn’t answer, and her smile grew wider. She had just exhausted him. “Lucian, darling, I can’t breathe.”
This time he took notice and with a groan, he pushed himself up, allowing the cool air of the room to claim the sweaty skin of her naked front. He rolled to the side, his eyes still closed, and Maeve bent to kiss his chest. She enjoyed the saltiness of it, as well as the faint scent all this physical activity had left on him.
“Come under the covers with me,” she urged, shaking him a little to wake him up.
He groaned again and opened his eyes, his vision unfocused. They both slipped under the sheets, and he settled next to her, before pulling her against him with a strong arm around her shoulders.
In a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep, and Maeve couldn’t help but smile. She was happy. Maybe the happiest she had ever been. With a light touch, she let her finger trace the various scars she could access. The few candles still burning gave her enough light to see them clearly.
This man had survived so much because he was meant for her. She’d told him once she didn’t believe in chance, and the sight of his scarred body only reinforced it. They were destined to each other, so his survival wasn’t out of luck. It was written somewhere that they would be together like this.
A sound disturbed her thoughts. She froze when she understood the door had been opened. Twisting around with anguish, she saw Ailia standing in its frame. Lucian must have heard the sound too, because he moved in his sleep, pulling Maeve closer to him with a frown.
Ailia stared at the scene with round eyes, shocked to find a naked man in her twin’s bed, but didn’t do anything. She backed away carefully and closed the door behind her, without a word.
Embarrassed, Maeve buried her face into Lucian’s chest. She knew her sister wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but she didn’t want to have to face her judging looks and to answer the questions she would undoubtedly have. Lucian mumbled something in his sleep, and Maeve’s worries vanished just like that. No matter what her sister would do, this was worth it.
With her head on Lucian’s chest, Maeve closed her eyes, lulled into sleep by the regular beating of his heart.
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was how hot she was. The second thing was that she wasn’t alone in the bed, and the third thing was that someone was kissing her neck and shoulder.
All the memories of the night came rushing, and she felt her entire body heat at the images that filled her mind. As they dissipated, she slowly became conscious of the current situation. She was lying on her side, Lucian’s strong and muscular body pressed against her back, with an equally strong arm hooked over her stomach, holding her there, and another one under her head, serving as a pillow.
He was awake, his mouth pressing soft kisses on the exposed skin of her shoulder, his very hard, very ready shaft pressed on her bottom. Instantly, her arousal went up, and she arched her back to press harder on his shaft.
He growled, and his lips moved to her ear. “You are awake.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded nevertheless. His hand over her stomach lazily moved lower, toward her intimacy. He was biting and licking her ear, making her mad with need. “Dawn is coming. I have to go soon.” The hand reached her curls, and she spread her legs, granting him access. “How sore are you?” he asked, his fingers toying with her wet folds.
Not waiting for an answer, he moved his hand lower and dipped two fingers inside of her. She hissed from the slight pain it caused and grabbed his forearm to stop him, digging her nails into the hard muscles.
“Very sore, I see. Too bad.”
He didn’t insist and removed his fingers from her entrance. Instead, he moved his hand up and gently rolled the tips of his digits over her sensitive pearl, coaxing her into a numbing pleasure.
She swayed her hips, unable to hold back, and he took her invitation, pressing his hard flesh between the two mounds of her behind, following her rhythm. She still had her hand on his forearm, and she could feel the tense muscles move under the skin. His fingers were working her to another one of those mind-blowing peaks he so expertly bestowed on her, and she marveled at how well he knew her body. Soon, her pleasure became too intense to contain, and she felt her moans grow too loud. Turning her face down, she bit his biceps to muffle the sound.
He let out a surprised groan, and his hips jerked harshly behind her as his fingers moved faster between her legs. They turned into a messy bunch of sweaty limbs, panting, writhing, pushing… She felt him tense behind her, heard the low growl he let out, and felt a hot, wet splash on her lower back. Understanding he had found his release, she joined him, muffling her screams of pleasure on the flesh on his arm.
They remained unmoving, slowly getting down from their sensual high, relenting to separate. Eventually, he made her turn around so that she laid on her back, and looked at her with his mossy green eyes.
“Good morning, black swan,” he told her, leaning for a soft kiss. With a smile, kissing him back tenderly.
“Good morning, officer.”
He moved back and gave her a warm smile. The tenderness in his eyes echoed the one she’d witnessed the evening before, and just as it had done then, it made her inside palpitate with delight. After a moment, he reluctantly pulled away.
“Dear God… Waking up like this could never get dull.” She grinned in agreement, and he took one last look at her before forcing himself out of the bed.
The faint glow of the day was already lighting up the room, so she sat down and watched as he gathered his things. He truly had an incredible body, his muscles strong and defined, his shoulders wide, his hips narrow… She ogled shamelessly at his half-raised… manhood, dangling between his muscular legs. It seemed impossible all of it could have fit inside of her. This morning she could barely take two of his fingers, but yesterday she had had all that?
“If you keep staring at me like that, sore or not, I will take you again,” he warned.
Maeve bit her lip, considering the question, her eyes not shying away from the tempting flesh. Lucian noticed her hesitation and his shaft twitched on its own, visibly getting harder.
Lucian swore and slipped on his underpants, shoving his now hard length under the fabric. Deprived of the view, Maeve decided to go get some water, as she was parched. She unceremoniously pushed the covers away and noticed the pink patches on the white linens. He saw it too, and she felt herself blush at this very substantial proof of their union. Ignoring Lucian’s sudden frown, she squirmed to the side of the bed. She put her feet on the floor and stood up, but a sharp pain in her lower abdomen made her reconsider, and she sat back with a whimper.
Worried, Lucian came to her instantly, kneeling before her. “Damn it! Maeve, are you all right?”
“Yes, I am just… really sore.”
“This is my fault, I am so sorry. I should have gone slower. I was too hard on you.”
“No, you were perfect. I cannot wait for you to have taken me, over and over, until there is no more pain,” she admitted, remembering his heated words from the night before. She saw his pupils dilate until the green of his eyes was only a thin, dark ring around them.
“There won’t be any of this until you feel good again,” he declared before he clenched his jaw and forced himself up.
Deciding she better not try to walk right away, she returned under the covers and asked him for a glass of water. He poured her one before handing it to her and getting one too, downing it in a blink. She drank hers in silence as he was getting dressed, enjoying the sight of him doing something so simple yet so intimate.
“When will we see each other again?” she asked when he was done.
He came next to her and sat on the bed, taking her head in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “I guess the next time will be at Armitage’s ball, on Sunday. Is your family attending?”
Maeve nodded. It was an important event that her family never missed. “And when will I see you again here, in my bedroom?”
He let out a low chuckle and bent to kiss her. “I would rather we avoided those visits, but I fear I do not have enough discipline to stay away from you.”
“Don’t blame it on discipline. You were in the army, you have plenty of it.”
“Not enough when it comes to you, I’m afraid.”
He bent to kiss her, and as if to prove his point, it changed into more, and soon enough, he was half laying over her, his hand pressing and teasing her naked breast, as she was audaciously undulating under him, her legs spread. With a moan, he pulled away and took a few steps back.
“I will see you Sunday,” he confirmed, before going to the window, which was still open.
She watched as he climbed over it with cat-like agility, relying on his good knee. When he disappeared into the dawn, she let out a contempt sigh and let herself fall back on her mattress. Very happy with herself, she stretched her sore limbs with a grin, and rolled in the sheets, burying her face in the pillow he had used. She fell back asleep, with his smell in her lungs and a dreamy smile on her face.
When she woke up again, she could tell from the intense light that the morning was well-advanced. The smell of Lucian lingering in her bed reminded her of what had happened, and she smiled with delight. Lazily, she stretched and sat up, before noticing with horror that her sister was sitting in a chair next to her bed, covering her with a judging look.
“Ailia!” she scolded, pulling the covers over her shoulders.
“I told Mother and Father you were feeling ill. You are welcome, as it is almost eleven, and one of them would have come to check on you at this point, only to find you… like this.”
Maeve bit her lips and tried to assess the situation. Her hair was a mess, she was naked, her skin was sticky, and there was a very distinctive smell in the air, despite the window being opened all night. Maeve smiled at her sister, thankful.
“I also had the maids draw you a bath in the adjacent room. Although, it might be tepid by now.”
“Thank you, Ailia,” Maeve said, touched by her sister’s attention.
“So, he is back. I was coming to tell you, yesterday, when I surprised you two. I guess he couldn’t wait for you to hear the news.”
Maeve blushed, remembering how Ailia had seen them afterward. A moment passed, and none of them knew what to say. Her twin seemed preoccupied, and Maeve was too embarrassed to say anything.
“Are you happy?” Ailia eventually asked.
“Yes, very.”
“Was it… Was it like you expected it to be?”
Maeve could understand why her sister was preoccupied. Her wedding night was in under two months, and she knew very little about how this ordeal unfolded.
“It was better than what I expected,” Maeve admitted, trying to find the proper words. “It was quite painful, at first, but he was conscientious, and did his best to please me. Despite the sheer size of his… appendage.”
Ailia nodded, her gaze unfocused on the carpet at her feet. “It is big, then?”
Maeve blushed, not knowing what to say to her sister. She always shared everything with her, but this seemed a bit much. It wasn’t that she couldn’t answer — she’d had it in her mouth, after all, so she had a good idea of the size — it was more out of principle. Deciding she would answer this last question, she tried her best to gesture how big exactly. Ailia’s eyes widened when she showed her the girth, and her mouth dropped when she showed her the length.
“That seems highly uncomfortable!”
“It was at first, but then, not so much. If it can reassure you, he told me it isn’t always this size.”
“I sure hope Thomas does not have one that large.”
Maeve bit her lip to hold back a smile, thinking that despite the pain, she wouldn’t exchange what she’d had for anything else. This sensation of being filled, to have so much of him inside of her, was too good to be avoided.
“All I know is I wouldn’t waste my time going all the way to Italy,” Maeve explained cheekily.
Satisfied with the pieces of information she’d had, Ailia stood up. “I will let you get ready then. Don’t take too long for the bath, or it will be cold. Also, if you need help sneaking the sheets to the laundry room, just tell me.”
Maeve nodded and watched as her sister left the room, grateful to have Ailia by her side. She hadn’t been thinking about the consequences, and this morning could have ended up terribly, had her twin not been here to look out for her. Ignoring her aching limbs and the pain between her legs, Maeve forced herself up and went to get her dressing robe.
Now more than ever, she had to be careful not to raise any suspicions. There was no way she would jeopardize what she had with Lucian. Not now, not ever.
【27】Sweet Obsession
The following Sunday, Lucian was positively anxious to see her again. It had barely been three days, and he was already feeling what he could only describe as withdrawal. After their night, in her bed, he had tried to resume his life, as if nothing had happened, but his mind clearly had other plans.
He had had to fight the urge to go to her one evening, joining her in her room, making love to her, drawing out more moans, more pleasure, more lust… Only the knowledge that she was too sore for another of his amorous attentions had stopped him. Not even the possibility of getting caught, or because of honor. No, knowing he would hurt her was the only reason why he hadn’t given in to his desires.
Now, it had been about seventy-two hours. Was it enough to have her again? Probably not, she had seemed pretty hurt. Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Lucian looked around once more.
“Are you all right?” John asked beside him in a low voice. The both of them were with a group of old friends, and Lucian hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation.
“Yes, I am fine.”
“Has the war made you on edge? Between tonight and your sudden disappearance from Beckman’s party a few days ago, I swear, you are starting to worry me, Lucian.”
“I’m fine. There’s a habituation period is all. I’ll be fine.”
John nodded, not convinced, and turned again to the others. They were talking about a horse race, arguing about Which one to bet on. Lucian tried to participate, checking the entrance every few seconds to see if the Langstons had arrived. The discussion slowly shifted to war horses, and the men turned to Lucian, to know which breed was the most commonly used. Lucian explained the breed didn’t really matter, that the height and weight of the animal were more important. He was about to add that Wellington favored horses that were over fifteen hands when he caught a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye.
He instantly turned to it, and there she was. Maeve was wearing the dress he had found her with two months ago, staring at the moon. She looked around, her neck stretched to see better, and when her eyes met his, she gave him a gorgeous smile. He was taken out of their moment when an elbow knocked him in the ribs.
“You were saying?” John insisted, making him realize he had stopped mid-sentence.
“I… hmm… My apologies, gentlemen, I need something to drink.”
Without another word, Lucian left them, ignoring their surprised looks. Trying not to look too eager, he made his way to the refreshments, which were near Maeve’s position. He ordered a glass of Whisky, and as it was handed to him, a familiar voice ordered a glass of port next to him. He turned and looked at her profile. She was trying to hold back a grin, and her amused mood was contagious.
“Lady Langston,” he greeted her, smiling frankly.
“Lord Worthington. I hadn’t seen you there.”
“How have you been?” he asked, taking a sip from his glass.
“Fine, thank you. I am finally able to walk straight again,” she revealed, with a clear voice. Lucian almost choked on his Whisky. Everyone around them could have heard it. She sent him an innocent look, seeming confused by his reaction. “I hurt my ankle, you see.”
Lucian let out an incredulous laugh. The little minx…
Although she was having a mundane conversation, seemingly very proper in every way, her eyes were saying another story altogether, and as her gaze glided over his chest, he knew she was remembering what laid under the layers of his clothes. His arousal went up in matters of seconds, and he observed her too, remembering the shape of her breasts, the exact tint of their tips, how they felt in his mouth, the salty flavor of her juices, the feeling of her lips around his cock…
Remembering they were in a room filled with people, Lucian tugged at his pants discreetly, trying to hide the sudden swelling of his cock. Upon understanding what she had done, she bit back a smile, her eyes lingering on the bump at his groin.
“So, may I ask how your ankle is, my lady?”
“Thank you for showing interest. It is all healed, my lord,” she said, her tone very cordial. “Ready to be hurt again, tonight if needed.”
Her suggestive tone disarmed him, and Lucian couldn’t hold back a low growl that rolled in his chest. This woman was definitely going to be the end of him. He looked around to find where they could isolate themselves when Delawney appeared next to them.
“I see great spirits think alike!” John exclaimed before ordering something too. Maeve took a few steps back, distancing herself from Lucian, her amorous mood gone, replaced by her usual coldness. “My lady,” the newcomer saluted, taking her hand to kiss its back. Maeve smiled and curtsied, before excusing herself, arguing she was supposed to find her sister.
Lucian watched her go, cursing John for his bad timing. Oblivious to what he had interrupted, his friend watched her walk away too.
“I didn’t tell you, yet, but while you were gone, Lady Langston and I had a talk,” Delawney explained. Interested, Lucian let go of her retreating silhouette and looked at his friend. “She told me my interest touched her, but she wasn’t ready to get married, and didn’t know if she would ever be.” It worried Lucian that John did not seem defeated, only disappointed. “Little did she know, I am very patient.” Lucian rolled his eyes, exasperated by his friend’s determination.
“Maybe you should take a hint.”
“I am. She wants time, so I will give it to her.”
“Maybe what she wants is to be left alone.”
“Oh, will you stop the act,” John demanded, irritated. Lucian stared at him, worried he might know something. “You keep pretending you cannot bear the woman, and I keep finding the two of you talking together.” Relieved to understand John knew nothing, Lucian looked at her from afar. She had reached her sister, and both of them were speaking in a low voice. “I know your real problem is with marriage, but you will have to deal with it, because even if I do not marry her, I will marry someone else.”
Lucian winced. He had never hidden his opinion regarding the institution of marriage, so Delawney’s conclusion could have been right. But not anymore.
No one could marry Maeve, because she was his, for now, and for the rest of her life. He didn’t want to rush things. He wanted them to enjoy these moments, the beginning of their story, but he knew, deep down, that their futures were tied. He was the first and only man who had ever interested her, and she was the only woman with whom he had ever considered building something serious and real. Furthermore, three nights ago, what they had shared might have tied their futures in a much more substantial way.
As hard as he’d tried, it had been nearly impossible to contain his release when she’d shattered in his arms. Her tight, wet, and spasming channel had mercilessly pushed him to his own climax, and the very moment he’d tried to pull out, she’d greedily kept him right there where she needed him. She’d released him after he’d commanded it, but not before the first spurt of his seed had jetted out of him.
It was impossible to guess if she would get pregnant from it — the odds seemed unlikely — but for the first time of his life, Lucian wouldn’t mind. The idea of impregnating a woman didn’t sound like such a terrible thing this time. Having a child with her felt acceptable because she would be the mother. Of course, doing it following the social standards, under the lawful bounds of matrimony, was always preferable, but if Maeve found herself pregnant, they would simply marry, and they wouldn’t be the first parents whose timeline did not add up.
He didn’t know what fate had in reserve for him, but if it involved this woman, he wouldn’t fight it. Yes, she could be obtuse and capricious, but he knew that together, they wouldn’t have a dull moment in their lives.
As he saw the Swan Sisters approaching, Lucian frowned. They reached them, and both Lucian and John saluted Lady Ailia. The woman gave them a warm smile, and for a second, she stared down at Lucian’s crotch, before looking up at his face, seemingly perplexed. Maeve noticed, and she blushed all the way to the tip of her ears. Had she told her sister about his cock? She gave him an apologetic look, and he understood details had been exchanged. His face warmed up too, unsure what to do with that information. He watched as Maeve’s sister very adroitly got John to ask her to dance.
As the couple left, Maeve gave Lucian an inviting look and moved away. He followed compliantly, staying a few paces behind her, and she led him out of the ballroom, and into an empty parlor.
He closed the door behind him, and the sound of the lock was unusually loud. Without wasting a second, she threw herself into his arm, and he caught her, all too glad of her initiative. Delight filled his mind upon understanding she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. Just as he had, she must have relived their evening together, over and over, building up the anticipation for the moment they’d reunite. They kissed with fervor, her enthusiasm particularly flattering. They blindly navigated into the room, until he pressed her against a wall.
His bold hand reached between them, cupping her intimacy over the layers of her dress, making her moan. “So, you are all healed up?” She nodded and let out a whimper when he removed his adventurous hand. “I will come to you tonight, then.”
She protested when she understood nothing was going to happen right now, but he resisted. He prevented her from opening his trousers, but granted her the thorough kiss she demanded. Eventually, he proceeded to calm her with soothing kisses, until she slowly got down.
“I have something for you,” she declared, fetching something in her pocket before handing it to him. It was an iron key, and he looked at her, wondering what it opened. “It is the key to the gate that leads to the garden from the street. I took it from the gatekeeper this morning so you don’t have to climb every time.”
“Do you worry about me?” he asked, amused she would have taken the time to steal the key. With a soft laugh and irresistible smile, she bit his chin, taunting.
“I worry you don’t have enough stamina left to climb my window and then climb me.”
“I will always find the stamina to climb you, swan.”
She giggled and pushed him away as he tried to kiss her again, arguing they should go back before someone noticed. He complied, knowing in a few hours, they would both be rolling in her sheets. His arms crossed over his broad chest, he watched her go to the door. The knowing smile she offered him over her shoulder, right before disappearing from his sight, made him want to catch her, to drag her back in here, and take her against the wall he’d pressed her against moments ago.
Looking down at his crotch, he sighed upon seeing the straining erection she’s conjured. This seemed to be the constant state of his cock whenever she was around. He might as well get used to it because he intended to see much more of her in the future.
Much later that evening, Lucian was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how a man like him could deserve that kind of blessing. He looked at the sleeping form next to him, tightening his hold on her.
She was properly drained, sleeping soundly after all the demanding activity they’d gone through together. Although it was still uncomfortable for her, it hadn’t been as painful as the first time. He may have let himself get carried away, drawing orgasm after orgasm, with his hand, cock, and mouth, until she had begged him to stop. She’d fallen asleep in a few seconds, tucked into the crook of his arm, a delighted smile lingering on her lips.
It had been over an hour ago now, and he hadn’t stopped watching her since, enjoying having her pressed against him like so. She’d sometimes jolt in her sleep, reacting to whatever dream she was having. At some point, she whispered his name, and he wondered if she was dreaming of him, and what would that dream be about.
Before he could be tempted to wake her up and initiate more sex, he kissed her forehead and carefully slipped his arm from under her head. She didn’t wake up, exhausted, and he got dressed in the semi-darkness. Only a candle on her bedside remained. Relenting to leave her, he sat on the edge of the bed to watch her sleep for a moment longer. When she rolled over to the side he’d previously occupied, he witnessed with tenderness the way she frowned, as if discontented. Did she subconsciously know he wasn’t there anymore?
Bending to kiss her hair one last time, he whispered wishes of sweet dreams in her ear. Getting up, he grabbed the key she had given him before going to the window. After one last look at Maeve’s figure, lost in the mess of her covers, he hauled himself over the wall and disappeared into the night.
Are you liking this story guys?
I really hope you enjoy Maeve and Lucian’s story. I love them so much. The characters growth is outstanding 🥺
【Bonus Scene】
Heyo! It’s been a while for some of you, so just to give you some context:
Maeve and Lucian already fooled around once, and when they met again, Maeve handed him a key so he’d be able to get into the Langston property easily. This scene happens a few hours after she does that.
Enjoy ;)
Amalia rolled to the side, half-asleep, seeking her husband’s warm embrace. When nothing but the mattress welcomed her enterprise, she extended her arm, finding Aiden’s pillow cold and empty.
Her eyes fluttered open, a frown bending her brows in confusion. The room was plunged into darkness, which confirmed it was still the middle of the night.
“Darling?” she softly called, sitting up.
“Here.”
His low whisper came from the balcony, where the double doors that led to it were wide open. Willing her sleepy limbs to cooperate, she slipped out of the covers to join him, barefooted and in her long night chemise.
She found Aiden sitting on a chair he’d moved there, still wearing his formal shirt and trousers from their evening out. In his hand was a nearly finished glass of what she guessed was gin.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, slightly worried.
Aiden offered her a nod, his eyes lost somewhere on the garden below them, and then brought the glass to his lips to finish it before settling it on the floor by his side. Without a word, he reached out to grab her gown and pulled her toward him. Understanding his intentions, Amalia sat on his lap, lying her temple on his solid shoulder.
They remained silent for a few moments, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the side of her thigh while his eyes never left the darkness below.
“What’s on your mind?” she whispered into his ear.
“When we came home earlier, the gatekeeper told me he was missing a key.”
Surprised that such mundane information could throw her husband off so much, Amalia offered him a puzzled frown. “Which one?”
“The east gate.”
Oh… Now it made sense. “Do you think it was—”
“Of course, it was her’” Aiden cut her, his tone filled with frustration. “None of our other children would be bold enough to steal it.”
Amalia pondered for a moment, trying to gauge her husband’s temper. It wasn’t so much anger that gnawed at him, but she could sense his worries.
“So, what’s the plan? You’ll sit here all night to see if she sneaks out?”
“Or if someone sneaks in.”
Amalia couldn’t hold back the slight grin that stretched her lips. Aiden was fiercely protective of their children, and he’d always had a special bond with Maeve. Had Amalia been a more civilized woman, obsessed with etiquette and rules, she surely would have been as defensive as Aiden about their daughter’s actions. But part of her couldn’t help but rejoice in this unexpected turn of events.
It seemed that Maeve had finally found her match, and Amalia couldn’t be happier about it. Worthington was quite the catch, not only handsome and clever, but also a war hero whose name was currently on everyone’s lips. More importantly, he seemed to have the proper temper to match Maeve’s—which was a very rare commodity. After so long worrying that the twins would never know the joys of marital life as she has, Amalia was now seeing both of them grow out of their preconceived ideas of men and falling in love.
“You could at least pretend to be appalled,” Aiden sourly grumbled.
“We’ve been working on this for a decade, darling. I’m merely happy to see that our plans finally came to fruition.”
“I expected it to follow a more proper course.”
“Really? I get it for Ailia, but did you really expect Maeve to do things the right way? You know she has to feel like she’s breaking every rule in the book, or else she’d find it dreadfully boring.”
“Cursed be that temperament of hers.”
Amalia chuckled lowly, muffling it against the warm skin of his neck. “It’s not like we followed the proper course,” she reminded him.
“It wasn’t the same.”
“How so?”
“You weren’t a proper lady.”
Amalia’s jaw dropped as she turned to him, pretending to be offended. “And it looks like you never became a proper gentleman.”
“You would love me less if I were,” he teased.
She didn’t even bother replying to his statement, as they both knew it to be true. Instead, she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder again and gazing at the garden like he was.
“Let’s go to bed,” she offered after a few minutes had passed.
“I’ll join you in a moment.”
She doubted that he would, knowing just how stubborn he could be. After nearly two decades with this man, though, she had learned how to get her way with him. Inconspicuously, she pressed her thigh harder on his crotch, wriggling slightly as she did. “Come on, darling. There are much better ways to occupy our night than this.”
His hand at her thigh halted its caresses, gripping her with contained want. With everything going on, they hadn’t been intimate in a fortnight, so winning him over would be easy. Hiding her smile, she kissed the side of his neck slowly, leisurely.
When he tensed all over, she thought she’d succeeded, only to be proven wrong. “Look,” he muttered, his eyes transfixed on a spot in the garden.
Amalia halted her amorous ministrations to gaze in the direction he was focused on. Sure enough, a masculine silhouette was discreetly making its way through the darkness of the garden. Given the imposing tallness and the slight limp, the man’s identity was impossible to deny.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” Aiden growled.
“I thought you liked Worthington.”
“Not when he believes me to be a fool unaware of what goes on under my own roof.”
“I, for one, would rather it happens under our roof than God knows where.”
“I’d rather it didn’t happen at all,” Aiden grunted.
They both observed as the intruder made his way toward Maeve’s room. Since they were sitting in darkness, the baron never thought of looking their way, unaware he was being closely observed. It wasn’t until he disappeared behind the corner of the house that Amalia spoke again.
“He makes her happy, Aiden. More than she’s ever been.” He replied nothing, so she knew she’d made a good point. “You saw how she fell apart those two weeks he was away, how much she worried he’d die in Belgium. And we talked about how much better she’s been since his return. This is it, my love. He is her person. Just like you were mine, and I was yours.”
Amalia gently rested her hand on his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes, “Aren’t you glad our girl will know the same happiness we have? That she’ll lead a life surrounded by family, love, and joy?”
Aiden’s scowl softened, his bluest of eyes adoringly gazing into her despite his uncertainty. “I am. I merely wish they wouldn’t act like we’re clueless imbeciles.”
Amalia smiled broadly, bending to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. “It’s the insouciance of youth. We had our moments, too, back then. But we ended up alright in the end, didn’t we?”
His hold on her narrowed, somber memories veiling his expression. “We almost didn’t.”
“And look at us now, with our perfect little family.”
The proud smile he offered her was so genuine and loving that she felt compelled to kiss him. This time, he welcomed her attentions, his hands pulling her closer as their lips and tongues danced in a way they knew all too well. Their embrace lasted for several minutes, hands groping and fondling, exploring as if they didn’t perfectly know each other’s bodies.
“Come to bed,” she breathed into their kiss, aware of the hardness growing against her thigh.
“Maybe I should go talk to them first.”
Amalia froze all over and moved back just enough to meet her husband’s lust-veiled eyes. “Darling, you do not want to enter her room right now.”
It took a few seconds for Aiden to understand what she meant, and when he did, his eyes widened in a mix of shock and horror. She did her best to bite back the smile that his revolted gaps enticed in her. “You think they are…” His words trailed off, but the stupor on his face spoke volumes.
“No, I’m sure he snuck into her room in the dead of night for a game of charades,” she said sarcastically.
That didn’t help lighten Aiden’s mood. On the contrary. “I’m definitely going there now. They can’t—”
“Don’t. Let them be, Aiden. Maeve is four and twenty. Nearly all the women her age are already married and with children. If this is what it takes for her to accept that she wants to have all that with Worthington, then let it be.”
“How are you so casual with all this? What if she gets—” He didn’t even voice it, as if the thought itself was too much to express.
“Let me handle it. I’ll make sure we don’t end up with a scandalous pregnancy on our hands. But let love do its thing. It won’t take long, anyways. Did you see them earlier, during the ball?”
“How could I not? The way they looked at each other from across the room was… It reminded me of us back then.”
“Exactly. They are beyond smitten. We need to give them a chance to realize what’s the logical outcome of their requited infatuation.”
Aiden remained silent for a moment, digesting her words. “I should have known,” he said after a while.
“Known what?”
“That marrying a bohemian would lead to such unorthodox methods.”
She laughed, used to his teasing. “You like my unorthodox ways, husband.” Coming closer, she nipped the lobe of his ear to pull on it slightly. “Especially when I get on my knees before you and take your cock in my mouth.”
Admittedly, her ploy to distract Aiden wasn’t particularly subtle, but something told her he was looking for an excuse to think about anything other than whatever their daughter and the baron must be doing downstairs.
“You haven’t done that in a while,” Aiden replied, his voice lascivious and low.
“I know… I’ve been such a negligent wife lately. But I’m eager to make up for it.”
“Are you?”
She nodded, writhing her hips across his lap. “We can even do that thing you like.”
“Which one? I like doing a lot of things to you, Ama.”
“You know… that thing.”
“Oh… If I recall correctly, you like it too, you lewd temptress.”
“I really, really do.”
When Amalia retook his lips this time, she was bold and fierce, determined to take his mind off his worries. Maeve deserved to experience the same happiness she had found with Aiden. And if it had to happen through such irregular means, then so be it.
When Aiden lifted himself off the chair and her with him, Amalia knew she’d won her battle. There might be more to come in the future, but at least for tonight, Maeve and her baron would have more time to realize what was happening between them.
More time to learn to know one another and see how perfect of a match they were.
More time to fall in love.
Maeve and Lucian thought they were being so slick, but her parents really knew all along
👀
I hope you enjoyed this little bonus bit!
❤️
【28】Curious Minx
Never in her entire life had Maeve done something so illicit. Even her rebellious nature wasn’t enough to make her feel at ease, like this wasn’t the wildest, most insane thing she’d ever done. She’d even experienced a twinge of guilt as she’d left her parents, but it hadn’t stopped her from hopping into a carriage.
To make sure her enterprise wouldn’t jeopardize everything, she’d taken a veil with her, which she’d pinned and adjusted during the ride, minding her hat and her hair beneath it. Her dress was also inconspicuous, a bland shade of gray that lacked any pricey details that might betray her rank in society. She’d even considered borrowing a dress from her maid, but between their height difference and the fact that her parents would have questioned her attire, she’d decided against it.
Now that the cab had stopped at the address she’d given the driver, she anxiously gazed at the house outside, wondering just what had gotten into her that would make her so carelessly bold. It was unthinkable that an unmarried, respectable young lady from high society would visit a man in such a manner, unsupervised and in secrecy. If she was caught, her entire reputation would be tarnished. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day. People would assume — and rightfully so — that she was visiting her lover for some inappropriate moments in his bed.
There weren’t many passersby walking out there, and while the neighborhood wasn’t poor, it also didn’t host people from her world. It was a much more humble crowd, and she doubted anyone would recognize her or even know she existed. Still, she found herself wishing it were the middle of the night, as the darkness would have cloaked her identity further, more efficiently than her veil would.
The carriage’s door opened suddenly, causing her to jump in surprise. “Miss, I don’t have all day,” the driver coldly declared. He was a rough man, with an imposing beard and a smell that reminded all too well that he worked with horses all day.
Intimidated by him and fearing he might attempt to touch her to get her out of his cab, she gave him a nod and busied herself with gathering her skirts to exit the confined space. Thankfully, the driver was no gentleman, so he didn’t extend a hand to help her descend. At least, she wouldn’t offend him by refusing it. Her gloves were white silk, and the man’s hands were dark with dust and other substances she’d rather not think of.
As soon as she exited the cab, the rude man shut the door behind her and climbed back into his seat. She was still standing where she’d landed when he spurred his horses on, leaving with a noise of hooves on the pavement and squeaky suspensions.
Swallowing away the lump in her throat, she adjusted the light cloak on her shoulders and glanced at the house before her. It was of modest size, like all the houses on this street, but with its red stone and Tudoran architecture, it held some undeniable charm. The small garden in the front was well kept, with a few bushes of roses and hydrangeas blooming, and the lawn was free of weeds. To the left, there was a small path, as Lucian had told her, and after some slight hesitation, she stepped toward it, following the paved way. While she walked by the side of the house, she could see some of the inside, and she didn’t hesitate to examine it, both curious to discover how the man lived, and desirous to see him.
It was the reason why she was here, after all. Lucian had visited her most nights since their affair had started, and while her bedroom served as a good place to meet, she’d grown curious to learn more about him. She wanted to know where the man who obsessed her lived, and what his personal space looked like. That was why she’d suggested she’d come to him instead, and they’d organized this exciting encounter.
But despite how hard she looked at the inside of the house, there were no traces of Lucian. Was he not waiting for her with an eagerness that matched hers?
She reached the small gate he’d spoken of, and a little further, the entrance of the domestics. From there, she could see what seemed to be a backyard, even lusher than the front. Her heartbeat was frenzied as she walked up the three steps that led to the backdoor. Her heart stopped altogether as the panel opened before her, just as she was about to knock. But the sight of the man awaiting behind it restarted it to a hasty cadence.
Because he was in his home and expecting no one but her, his attire was more laid back than usual, with nothing on him but a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a pair of dark pants, and house slippers. The smile he offered her was broad and bright, filled with contained excitement.
“My lady,” he cordially greeted her, stepping to the side to invite her in.
His splendid mood was contagious, and a grin stretched her lips as she walked into his home. He assisted her as she removed her cloak, and then helped when the pins of her veil refused to cooperate. Once her hat and the rest were hanging on the rack there, he looked down at her with something tender in his eyes. She didn’t resist the call of his inviting lips. With her unshakable smile, she stretched up to kiss him for the first time that day.
“How long do we have?” he asked once they pulled away after a longing exchange.
“I told them I was visiting Annita. So three, at best four, hours.”
“A lot can happen in four hours…”
His flirty tone made something flutter in her chest and lower stomach. Four hours was, indeed, quite a long time, given their usual pace. “Does it include a tour by the master of the house?” she asked with feigned innocence, looking around at the entryway they stood in.
“It includes whatever you want, swan.”
His hand found hers and their fingers entwined as he guided her further into the house. Since they were there, he showed her the servants’ portion of the house, explaining he had three people working here. A cook, a maid, and a handyman who managed all sorts of chores, including caring for his horse and the garden.
“They used to be horrified when I first started joining them for the meals — Cook especially. But it’s now become a habit. Whenever I’m not entertaining, we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner at this table,” he explained, pointing at a rustic wooden table in the middle of the kitchen.
It was rather unorthodox, but part of her liked that about him. He saw no point in eating alone in the dining room, as he’d never been one to abide by their society’s rules. He then led her into the main part of the house to show her the tea parlor, the living room, and the dining room right next to it. Everything was rather simple, but tasteful. There were feminine touches here and there, with bouquets of flowers that seemed to come from the garden, painted porcelains signed by his sisters, and crocheted doilies he explained were from his mother.
It didn’t take long for Maeve to realize that Lucian in his own habitat was the version she preferred of him. He was relaxed, humorous, and she couldn’t get over his casual state, so unbothered by properness. During their entire tour, he never let go of her hand, sometimes bringing it up to his lips to kiss its back intently. Her earlier worries, the anxious thoughts she’d had about coming here, had all faded into the back of her mind. This was more than worth taking the risk.
He showed her his study, and she was tempted to examine everything there. Of all the rooms, it was the one that felt the most like him. Glassed cabinets and shelves were filled with trinkets that seemed to come from his travels in the Peninsula. There was also a large bookcase against one of the walls, and she was tempted to go through all the books there, to see what he read during his spare time. Her curiosity about the man was reaching an all-time high.
The level above was smaller, but there was still enough room for a spare bedroom, a small parlor where she noticed a marble set of chess, and another room that must have been meant for the lady of the house, with a large window that was turned toward the side, toward the neighboring house. Of course, the tour ended at his chambers, which she knew he’d done on purpose. The massive bed in the middle of it beckoned her, the promise of what the rest of her time here would be filled with. When he let go of her hand, she didn’t hold back and went to observe the objects scattered in the room. Eventually, she halted her exploration by the window, observing the beautiful view. From there, she could see the backyard and noticed a small fountain she hadn’t noticed before.
“So, is the house to your liking?” he asked, right behind her. Although her opinion shouldn’t matter, she could sense he cared about what she would say.
“It’s lovely, Lucian. I wasn’t expecting it to be so… humble, but I like how authentic everything feels.”
“Do you think it’s too small?” he worried. She twisted her neck to meet his eyes.
“Certainly not for a bachelor, no. But everyone knows your barony is one of the wealthiest in the country. More than many earldoms, even. I’m not disappointed — as I’ve said, I quite like it. I’m merely surprised.”
He looked around for a moment, and she feared she might have offended him, even though it was never her intention. “This is mine,” he explained. “The house I bought before I inherited the title. I purchased it with my officer pay and some of the savings I’d amassed over the years. It’s not much, but it feels more like home than the other place.”
“The other place?”
“The title came with a lot of properties, including a large townhouse. It’s not far from your family’s hall, actually. On the other side of Hyde Park. I rarely go there; maybe every fortnight to make sure everything is running smoothly.”
“I didn’t know we were practically neighbors,” Maeve said with frowned brows. “It would have been simpler to meet you there, as I could have pretended that I was heading to the park with Sleipnir for some activity.”
With cocky assurance, he made her turn in his embrace, slithering a powerful arm behind her back. “But many of my neighbors there might have recognized you. And there are thirty-five people working there, which makes it impossible to have the place to ourselves. Unlike here, where I gave all three of my employees an afternoon off, to everyone’s delight.”
He had a point, and the twenty minutes carriage ride to this place suddenly made sense. Knowing he’d closed the conversation with his astute calculation, he proceeded to kiss the slope of her neck, changing topics altogether. Maeve let out a contented sigh at the touch of his lips on her smooth skin, and she hooked an arm around his neck, keeping him right against her.
“Would you like to visit the other place as well?” he asked, his words puffing against her now wet skin.
“I would, yes… But it sounds like a complicated enterprise.”
“I could make something work. My mother would scold me if an entire Season went by and I didn’t host a single gathering.”
“You would do that?” The surprise in her voice was hard to miss, and it made him chuckle.
“I’m not that much of a hermit, you know. I can host a simple dinner, with your family and some of my other acquaintances, so it doesn’t look suspicious.”
With deft hands, he was cleverly undoing the ties in the back of her dress. The light touch of his fingers was making it hard to focus, but she did her best to remain on the topic. “You don’t have to go through all this to satisfy my curiosity, Lucian.”
“It’s not that much of a hassle, swan. I’ll let the house intendant know we’re having guests for dinner a week prior, send out a few invitations, and that’s about the extent of it.”
The bodice of her dress was now loose, and he greedily pulled it down to reveal the thin fabric of her shirt beneath. She knew it was sheer enough for him to glimpse at the perky tips below, so she’d expected the ravenous expression he gave her when he noticed.
“If you insist on hosting an entire dinner for me, then I promise I’ll make it worthwhile,” she insisted with a sultry voice.
“And how do you plan on doing that, you teasing minx?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, my lord.”
Before he could protest or attempt to pry more information out of her, she took his lips with a starving intensity. While her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, he took care of removing whatever layer he could access from her.
They had a little less than four hours left now, but she didn’t doubt it would be more than enough to satisfy their cravings…
【29】Heated Chase
Maeve’s happiness didn’t diminish during the following days. Actually, with each day that passed, she was growing happier.
They had found an arrangement that satisfied her beyond words. Most nights, Lucian would sneak into her bedroom to spend the darkest hours with her, until dawn. Also, on some afternoons, she would go to his house, pretending to be visiting Anita, who was in on the subterfuge.
She enjoyed going to his place, as she felt freer and wasn’t scared of being caught, which she always feared when they were in her bed. However, regardless of where they met, the reward was more than worth the risk.
It was still hard to believe how obsessed she had become with the man. She needed him to satisfy her carnal appetites, but also for the meaningful and enjoyable conversations they were having in between. She was amazed to have thought him to be a heartless beast, as Lucian was, in fact, very attentive and affectionate.
He took great pleasure in showing her new things, teaching her how it all worked, always careful not to hurt her in her pride or physically. Ever since the first night, it had become increasingly comfortable and enjoyable. She loved the fact that he encouraged her to be bold and trust her instincts, and she had managed to surprise him more than once with her imagination.
She was impressed by how harmonious their relationship was now. Before they had stumbled into each other’s arms, they couldn’t help but argue. But now, she couldn’t possibly get mad at him. The fact that they weren’t pretending to despise one another anymore certainly helped in that way.
It always felt odd when they came across each other during a party. It didn’t feel right to be away from him, to hold back her impulses, and to keep a cold and distant facade, when all she wanted was to isolate herself with him. Ever since the whole thing had started, they had managed to avoid getting themselves into compromising situations. Except once. During an incredibly dull dinner party they were both attending, they had shared a few stolen minutes of bliss against a wall in the library of their host, while the guests had retreated into a parlor for cigars and card games.
Still, it didn’t matter how much time passed, it was ridiculously hard not to give any signs of their shared intimacy. Especially today, during the garden party Maeve was attending with her parents and siblings. Lucian was here too, accompanied by Delawney, as always, and Maeve was struggling to contain herself.
Lady Clifford was a gorgeous woman, particularly known for her promiscuousness — and that even before her husband had died of a horse-riding accident about a decade ago. Adamant to enjoy the freedom of her widowhood, she wasn’t shy about her quest to find lovers to occupy her lonely nights. As it turned out, she seemed to have set her mind on Lucian now, and Maeve was reaching her limits. She’d watched the god-forsaken woman openly flirt with him the entire afternoon, and she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue much longer.
While he didn’t seem interested in the widow’s advances, Lucian wasn’t rejecting them very hard either. Because of that, the dreaded woman kept coming back for more, certain the appealing baron could be won over.
But he couldn’t because he was Maeve’s.
“Are you going to cause a scene?” Ailia asked to her left, taking another spoonful of the chocolate cake they had been served.
Maeve, Ailia, and Anita were settled on a bench in the sumptuous gardens of their hosts, watching the guests as they ate their dessert. Or at least, they were watching the guests while Maeve had her sight locked on the lewd Lady Clifford. This was the same estate she’d been at weeks ago, where Lucian and she had been forced to spend an hour tied together. Looking back, Maeve couldn’t help but feel this was when everything had really started; the first time she’d gotten a glimpse of what laid behind the man’s austere behavior.
“Of course I won’t cause a scene,” Maeve answered with frustration, her pride somewhat attacked by the insinuation.
“Good, because this is the face you make when you’re about to.”
“I— No it’s not.” Turning to Anita, Maeve tried to find support in her friend. However, the blonde nodded, agreeing with Ailia’s statement. “I’m not the one making a fool of myself. She is,” Maeve defended herself, gesturing toward Lady Clifford, who was now touching Lucian’s arm and standing way too close to him.
“She can do whatever she wants, she’s a widow with more money than she could ever spend. You, on the other hand, cannot let your anger get the best of you.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, Ailia. But how would you react if someone flirted so shamelessly with your fiancé?”
“Well, I would have a legitimate excuse to intervene, since Thomas and I are actually betrothed, while you and Lord Worthington are… whatever you two are. Anyhow, I wouldn’t even need to say anything, because I have faith in Thomas’s affection for me.”
Muttering a protest, Maeve looked again at the source of her problems. Although she wanted to have such faith in Lucian’s affection for her, she wasn’t as entitled to it as Ailia was for her fiancé. Maeve wasn’t even sure what they were, despite the insane amount of intimate moments they’d shared. Why wasn’t he rebuking Lady Clifford’s advances more firmly? Was he actually interested in whatever she had to offer?
Maeve had been confident she was enough for Lucian, despite her lack of knowledge. She was learning, and fast, so she’d foolishly thought she could be enough to satisfy whatever needs he could have. Apparently, she’d been wrong, she thought as she watched the lady bend to whisper something in Lucian’s ear yet again.
“I need a drink,” she declared, standing from the bench abruptly. Maybe a glass of port would help soothe her nerves.
As she waited for the valet to serve her, Maeve looked around at the garden, her arms crossed in front of her, her lips pinched in a severe line. She’d been looking forward to being back here with him, but up to that point, she’d spent a dreadful afternoon. For the umpteenth time today, she glared at the audacious widow. Lucian wasn’t by her side anymore, which surprised her. Only Delawney and a few of their friends remained.
“Lady Langston,” a low, familiar voice greeted her right behind her.
Swiftly spinning around, Maeve looked at the man who occupied her every thought. Before she could help it, the bulk of her anger latched onto him. Regardless of what they should label what they had, he shouldn’t have permitted a woman to flirt so shamelessly with him that way; especially not when Maeve was there to witness it. He guessed her animosity, and a flash of confusion crossed his face.
The valet came to hand her her drink, she took it from him, downed it in one go, and handed the empty glass back to the domestic. Ignoring Lucian, Maeve turned around to rejoin her friends. She couldn’t talk to him now, or she would most likely cause a scene, as her sister had pointed out. Barely three steps in, a careful grip caught her arm, preventing her escape. Looking down at the unwelcomed hand, she clenched her jaw.
To think those long and agile fingers had been inside of her not twenty-four hours ago, and now she couldn’t even bear to have them on her arm like so…
“Let go of me, you utter arse,” she demanded with a warning glare.
Lucian let go of her instantly, but his confusion worsened, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “What have I done to deserve such treatment?”
“I don’t know, maybe you should ask Lady Clifford since you two seem to be such good friends.”
Maeve was shocked by the hatred she could hear in her voice, but it was too late to take the words back. Puzzled, Lucian looked at the widow for a few seconds, then back at her. When he finally understood what was happening, Maeve was taken aback by his reaction. Instead of appearing apologetic or remorseful, a delighted smile stretched his lips.
“Are you jealous, Maeve?”
A scoff answered his absurd question, and she resumed her walk toward her friends. Lucian intercepted her again, coming between her and her objective. His smile was still very much there, and it annoyed her greatly. Changing her course, she headed toward the maze, her pace faster so he wouldn’t catch up with her as easily.
Hoping she could lose him in the complex layout of the trimmed junipers, she entered the columned entrance. She could hear his steady steps behind her, and it frustrated her not to be able to be rid of his infuriating presence. Picking up her rhythm, she ran, adamant to lose him.
“Maeve,” he warned. “Do not make me run.”
Suddenly remembering his bad knee, she felt bad about forcing him to chase her like this. On the other hand, he didn’t have to chase her, he could simply stop his endeavor altogether.
Taking random turns, she ran further into the maze, too busy thinking of which path she should take to pay attention to his presence behind her. He would abandon eventually, his leg preventing him from running for too long. She hoped it would be before her tight corset forced her to stop to catch her breath.
When unexpectedly, his hand grabbed her arm, she let out a surprised yelp. Before she could shake it away, he pulled her into a recess in the junipers; the very one she’d been ready to punch him all these weeks ago. Maybe she’d get to hit him this time around.
“I told you not to make me run,” he grunted, his breathing short, but not as hectic as her. He was pressing her against the trimmed bushes, his grip on her wrists on her as firm as iron.
“And I told you to go back to Lady Clifford.”
“Maybe I should. She is much more amiable than you.”
Infuriated, she quickly raised her knee to hit him where she knew it hurt the most, but he avoided it swiftly. “Ah-ha, I know your tricks, swan.”
“Let go of me before I scream, Lucian.”
“Like you screamed yesterday, in my bed?”
Appalled, she tried to kick him with her knee again, but it failed just as before. To prevent any further attempts, he plastered himself harder onto her, pushing her further into the vegetation. “Now, before you manage to land a hit and jeopardize the existence of our children, talk to me, Maeve.”
She lost the ability to talk entirely, flabbergasted by what he’d just said. He’d spoken of children. Their children. As if it were an evident aspect of their future together. Was it just a jest, or was it something he actually considered?
Of course, she wanted a life by his side. She wanted their relationship to be official. She wanted the world to know Lucian Thorne, Baron Worthington, was hers. Ever since understanding her feelings for him, they’d only grown stronger, more intense. She desperately wanted more than what they had; craved it.
But Lucian had never hinted to her meaning more to him aside from being a fun adventure. Until now, at least.
“Were you jealous of Lady Clifford?” he asked, his eyebrow arched in an arrogant, superior way.
As he reminded her of his despicable behavior, Maeve realized she’d been foolish to think he was serious about her. Had he held honorable intentions where she was concerned, he would have already spoken to her father, would have asked for her hand in marriage, and wouldn’t have been flirting with another woman when everyone could see.
“Why would I be jealous of her? For all I care, you can go and do whatever you want to her,” she answered, her tone venomous.
Lucian’s cocky smirk came back, and she would have slapped it off his face if he hadn’t been holding her wrists so firmly. “But you see, darling, I can’t quite do whatever I want to her.”
Fuming, Maeve twisted her wrists, trying to get free from his hold. When it failed, she groaned like a caged animal and sent him a spiteful glare. “Why is that? Is she proving to be less amiable than anticipated?”
“Actually, there are several reasons as to why I won’t do whatever I want to Lady Clifford.” Briefly pausing, Lucian moved down to press his lips on her throat, where she knew a vein was throbbing under the skin. “First, I’m very satisfied with what I have right now, and I don’t feel the need to find another woman to share beds with.” His tongue followed an imaginary line between her throat to her breasts, where he avidly licked the hollow path between each mound. Maeve could feel her anger melt away, making room for another emotion, just as flammable if not more. “Secondly, I don’t actually want to do anything to the woman, except being cordial and entertaining the illusion that I’m a free bachelor.”
He released her wrists, firmly grabbing her hips instead. Maeve was about to push him away when his sinful mouth reached her ear, gently sucking on that tender spot he knew drove her mad, right under the lobe of her ear. “Thirdly, there’s only one woman I want, regardless of how stubborn and frustrating she can be.”
Lucian concluded his argumentation with a deep, domineering kiss, which melted her to her bones. In a matter of seconds, she’d forgotten all about her exasperation, hooking her arms around his strong neck to pull him closer, surrendering to his embrace.
When he pressed his hardening length against her core, she whimpered in his mouth, craving to have him inside of her. How was he doing this to her? They were out in broad daylight, where anyone could stumble upon them, but she didn’t care about any of it. All she wanted was for him to hike up her skirts and take her right here, in the middle of the maze, surrounded by junipers.
As if to punish her for her thoughts, a woman laughed not far from them, only a few meters away on a path near them. Lucian heard it too, and his hold on Maeve loosened instantly, leaving her panting and confused. He considered the situation for a moment, his starving eyes gliding over her heated face, lowering to her heaving chest. Apparently deciding this couldn’t wait, he bent to kiss her temple before whispering instructions in her ear.
“Go to the castle, find the music parlor. Third door on the left when you come from the main door to the garden.”
After pressing his lips one last time on hers, he left her there, overheated and aroused.
In her mind, she considered his command, wondering if she should join him in the music parlor. It seemed rather daring to do so. They were already taking so many risks, adding to the list was dangerous. Pressing her thighs together, Maeve tried to ignore the demanding call of her flesh. It was aching and needy, pulsating with the beats of her heart.
As the ability to think slowly came back to her, she went through what he’d said. A sense of victory gained her mind as she was reminded of Lucian’s words. He didn’t want any woman other than her. Even the famously beautiful Lady Clifford wasn’t one he’d consider. He only wanted Maeve, and that was a glorious thing to know.
After a couple of minutes had passed, when her heart rate had calmed as well as her breathing, Maeve exited the hidden spot in the maze, before finding her way out of it entirely. She rejoined the others, glimpsing at the castle, still wondering if she should join Lucian in there.
The idea of letting him simmer for a while as payback for forcing her to watch him flirt with another woman was tempting. On the other hand, he’d made up for that already, and it seemed rather cruel to make him pay for it. Also, she needed him to take care of the craving he’d ignited. If she didn’t join him, she’d feel unsatisfied for hours, until he joined her tonight in her room.
Impulsively, she changed her course to head toward the castle instead, her eyes locked on the main door. Once in, she counted the doors and stopped in front of the third one on the left. With a quick look around, she made sure no one was watching before entering it, a naughty smile bending her lips.
【30】Important Lesson
Lucian had been pacing the room for over five minutes now, wondering if she’d join him at all. Back in the garden, he hadn’t been trying to do anything with Lady Clifford. In all truth, he hadn’t even realized the woman was flirting with him until Delawney had pointed it out, whispering in his ear that this would be a good opportunity to get back on the saddle.
Ever since coming back from the war, over a year ago, with his injured knee and newly found hatred for his peers, Lucian hadn’t been with women much. And his best friend was aware of that fact. After everything he’d been through, it had seemed rather futile to chase skirts. Also, following his scar, women had been somewhat reluctant to share intimacy with him. He knew it made him look severe and dangerous, and not all women were as fearless as Maeve.
Poor John… He would go mad if he knew Lucian was actually very much back on the saddle, actively enjoying the favors of the woman the ginger coveted for himself.
Like every time he thought about it, his mood sank. He wasn’t looking forward to the day he would have to announce it to John. His intentions with the young lady were growing more serious with each encounter, and it was only a matter of weeks before they officialized things.
John would have to get over it and accept that Maeve wasn’t his to have in the end.
As if he’d conjured her with his thoughts, Lucian heard the familiar sound of her steps approaching the door. She halted right in front of it, and he went toward it himself, eager to welcome her back into his arms. The panel opened, and as soon as she entered, he was on her, swallowing her surprised yelp in his mouth.
Blindly reaching for the lock, he turned the key into it, isolating them in here. Everyone was outside, and from what he’d seen all afternoon, very few people entered the castle altogether. He’d already drawn the curtains, making sure no one could peek inside. They would get their moment of peace.
As impatient as he was, she reached for the buttons of his trousers, her fingers trembling with want. He chuckled in her mouth when she whimpered, frustrated by her failure to open the garment. It turned out men’s fashion was still new to her. Pushing her hands away, he took care of it himself with efficient moves, grunting when she slipped her delicate hand in the opening. With the sensual boldness she had grown to develop in the past few days, she palmed his hardening flesh, her slim fingers wrapping around the shaft that was hers and hers only.
Remembering her fit of jealousy earlier, Lucian decided to use this moment to teach her a lesson. How on earth could she have imagined he would desire another woman when the entirety of his thoughts was reserved to her? He was obsessed with her, constantly craving to have more.
Still adamantly possessing her lips, he navigated them around the room, until they reached the grand piano in the center of it. Pulling away from her lips, he made her turn around, admiring the elegant slope of her nape, exposed thanks to the high bun her hair was styled in.
Unable to resist, he pressed his lips there, on the soft warmth of her skin. She practically purred against him, tilting her head to the side to grant him more access. Filling his fists with the fine fabric of her dress, he hiked her skirt up, impatient to enter her wet tightness. When his fingers met a flimsy, airy fabric, he pulled away to look down. The undergarment she’d opted for was not only so sheer that he could see through it with ease, but it also had a slit much larger than the common ones. It allowed him to see the entirety of the crease between each swell of her bottom, revealing so much more than what would have been decent.
“Bloody hell, Maeve. You’re going to render me entirely mad one of these days.”
Without even seeing her face, he knew she was smiling. Somehow, it had become one of her goals in life; to tease the ever-living shit out of him. In her defense, he harbored the same goals himself.
His hand pushed on the middle of her back, silently ordering her to bend forward. She docilely complied, bending at the hips, pressing her behind on his front as she did. While Maeve was a particularly defiant woman in nearly all aspects of life, he’d come to realize she was remarkably compliant when it came to matters of the flesh. He suspected this was only because she was still the least experienced of the two. Given some time, though, he had no doubt she’d become just as strong-headed over this as she was with everything else.
Somehow, he couldn’t wait for that day to arrive, looking forward to the competitions they would surely have while in bed.
Once her front was laid on the grand piano’s closed case, Lucian adjusted her skirt over her back, admiring the exposed parts of her rear. The two pale masses seemed to be begging for his touch, so he complied diligently, palming the soft flesh, slipping his hand through the wide opening.
“Lucian,” she moaned, arching her back further, wanting him to fill her.
Had they had all the time in the world, he would have teased her longer, as there was nothing he loved more than hearing her beg. But since they couldn’t be found in this compromising position, he ought to hurry and get on with the ordeal. With rapid gestures, he pushed his trousers down and freed his aching cock. He didn’t have any French letter with him, but he made a mental note to carry one on him at all times. It was now the second time they were in this situation, about to have sex in the middle of a social event.
Holding his shaft in his fist, he guided its tip to her entrance, swiping it along her folds to coat it with her arousal, making her moan with anticipation. Because she wasn’t as wet as he would have liked, he pulled away slightly, and carefully aiming, he spat down on his swollen head.
This time, when he pressed against her slit again, he gently pushed in, marveling at her tightness like every time he entered her. He took his time, careful not to hurt her, until his cock was fully buried into her. Lucian didn’t move for a moment, observing the incredible woman bent in front of him for a moment.
She seemed to have plans of her own, as her hips started to roll sinuously, taking him in and out of her silky channel. He followed her pace, retreating and reentering, enjoying greatly the sighs of pleasure that escaped her.
“So, tell me, did you really think I could want another woman?” he asked, bending to whisper it in her ear.
“I… Yes.”
“Do you still think I could want anyone else but you, now?” He granted her a harder nudge, reaching that spot deep within her that he knew made her positively delirious with pleasure.
“Aah, no…”
“That’s right. There’s only one woman I want, one woman I dream about, one woman on my mind.”
The pace of his thrusts rose in intensity with each admission, and she was growing increasingly tense beneath him. She couldn’t hold on to anything, so her hands were clenched into tight fists over the sleek surface of the piano. Once more, he regretted they didn’t have more time, because he would have loved to make this lesson last a while longer, to be certain she wouldn’t have any more of those ludicrous doubts.
Sending a hand between her legs, he easily found the sensitive crest above her slit, drawing a muffled cry from her when he grazed it.
“Who is it, Maeve? Who’s the only woman I crave?”
“Ahh, Lucian, please!”
“Tell me who’s the only woman I want, darling, and I’ll make you come.”
“It’s me! I’m the only woman,” she surrendered with a whimper.
A victorious smile bent his lips upward, and he finally gave her everything she needed. What they both needed. Raming in and out of her with intensity, his fingertips still rolling over her sensitive bud, he chased his pleasure and her own. When her moans of pleasure grew too loud, he let go of her hip to press his hand over her mouth instead, resting his forehead on the curve where her shoulder and neck met.
She was almost there. He could feel her involuntary spasms around him. He was nearly there too, subdued by her warmth, wetness, and pressure. She came first, her cries of ecstasy vibrating against the palm of his hand, her insides quivering around his throbbing length. He deplored not being able to see her face better, as he loved to watch her come, to witness the bliss on her features, to stare deep into her bluest of eyes when she found her release from his ministrations.
Just as he was about to join her, he remembered they weren’t using protection. With a low curse, he pulled out, let go of her clit, and fisted his cock instead. He pumped it once, twice, and then his climax came, spurting out of him to land on her delectable behind. Like the greedy man he was, he aimed for the smooth, creamy skin exposed by the raunchy underwear, loving the sight of his essence on her perfect skin.
They trembled for a few more seconds, prone to a mind-blowing release together. As they both came down from the heavens, Lucian let go of her mouth and dropped kisses over her exposed shoulders and nape. When she twisted her neck, demanding a kiss, he gladly complied, an incredulous smile coming in the way of their sweet exchange.
Eventually, he forced himself to let go of her. They needed to go back before anyone noticed their absence. Their little escapade had lasted less than ten minutes, so everything should be alright. But they could never be too careful.
After taking a few steps back to move away from her, he winced at the sharp pain that came from his knee. Between what had just happened and the chase in the maze, he’d asked a little too much of his old injury.
While he took care of fastening his breeches, Maeve pushed herself up. Her skirts fell back into position, making her perfectly acceptable in a couple of seconds. But Lucian knew better. Not only was she wearing something scandalous under her cream dress, but she also happened to have a generous serve of his cum, splashed all over her splendid behind.
She offered him a knowing smile, making him understand she’d been thinking exactly the same. Seduced, he reached her to take her in his embrace and kiss her tenderly.
If someone had told him three years ago that any of this would be happening, he wouldn’t have believed them. Not even God himself could have convinced him that the Black Swan would be his, that he’d adore her with such intensity, that she’d want him with so much passion.
When they moved away from each other, she noticed the way he flinched, and her eyes traveled down to his bad knee.
“I’m sorry for making you run earlier,” she apologized with a sheepish look on her face.
“It’s alright, swan. For you, I could run halfway around the world.”
【31】White Lies
Maeve would probably need a few weeks before she could see a piano without blushing profusely. What they’d done during the garden party lingered in her mind for days afterwards. Not only was she cherishing the memory of their shared intimacy, but she was also dearly attached to the truth that had been revealed.
Lucian’s devotion couldn’t be doubted anymore, as he’d made abundantly clear that she was the one and only woman on his mind. She was the only one he desired, the only one he wanted. And although it wasn’t a profession of love, it was an important fact that satisfied Maeve beyond words.
She had officially seen him twice since that day, and three more times unofficially. Once at his house, and the rest in her room. Miraculously, her parents hadn’t wondered why suddenly she was accompanying them at every event, instead of once a week. Maybe they hadn’t even noticed, but if they had, they hadn’t said a thing.
Tonight, they were attending a welcome back party, dedicated to a few officers from the recently won Napoleonic war. Lucian was here too, of course. For the occasion, he was wearing his uniform, and Maeve suddenly understood why some women were obsessed with military men. He was simply irresistible. The red and black jacket, with the row of golden buttons all the way up to his throat, and the golden epaulets that made him look even more imposing than usual. The impeccable white pants, with the black, knee-high boots, hid nothing of his muscular thighs, or the bump at his crotch. At his chest, on the left, an impressive row of medals was pinned, and she couldn’t help but feel proud. He was her man. This dashing war hero was hers, and she was his.
Tonight, most of all, she had to keep away from him. There weren’t many guests, the party was quite exclusive, and her parents were here, along with plenty of Lucian’s acquaintances. She feared if they disappeared together, even for five minutes, someone might take notice. No, she would have to be patient and wait for Lucian to come to her tonight, as planned. Then, she would take her time, removing the buttons of his jacket one by one, and undressing the rest of him, to personally thank him for his service as any war hero deserved. Actually, maybe he could keep parts of the uniform.
Feeling a sudden burst of heat, Maeve fanned herself with her hand and turned back her attention to her sister. Even though she was engaged, Ailia’s eyes were constantly drawn to the attractive officers that surrounded them. Yes, military men were quite a thing.
She looked at her very own officer, who was talking to the Duke of Wellington, the man of the hour, the one who had defeated Napoleon. Both the Field Marshall and Lucian turned to look at her, and she wondered, mortified, if they were talking about her. When she saw them walking toward her, she panicked, wondering what Lucian had told the man.
As they came closer, Maeve elbowed Ailia, to get her attention. Soon enough, both men were in front of them, and Lucian smiled. “Ladies, allow me to introduce you to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, the Field Marshal who subdued the French Emperor. My friend, these are Lady Ailia Langston, and Lady Maeve Langston, the daughters of the Duke of Leeds.” The twins curtsied, and the duke bowed.
“I have heard a lot about you,” said the man, looking at Maeve. “I have to say that words of your beauty were not exaggerated.” She smiled, embarrassed, and gave Lucian a questioning glance. What on earth had he told Wellington? Turning to Lucian, the duke smiled. “I understand now why you were so eager to leave Belgium.” It was Lucian’s turn to seem embarrassed. Ignoring it, the man turned back to Maeve. “Has he told you of his exploits yet?”
“We have all heard of his heroic actions in the Peninsula, my lord,” Maeve confirmed.
“Oh, no! I mean his most recent ones, in Belgium.”
Maeve stared at the man, confused, and then she turned to Lucian, who suddenly seemed tense. What did Wellington mean? Lucian hadn’t been on the line of battle. He was safely retreated back to the camp, nowhere near the action. Or at least, that was what he had promised her.
Suspicious, Maeve turned to the Field Marshal. “I am afraid no one has told me yet, no.”
“Really? Worthington, you disappoint me. So, let me tell you all about it, my dear. We were stuck, losing as much as we were winning, our men discouraged, their hope slowly fading. But then, this man right here, roused the morals and launched himself and his corps into an impressive counter-attack. I will forever have this image of Worthington, riding on his white horse blade first into enemy lines.”
As the man told her, Maeve felt the blood drain from her face. What was that about? Lucian wasn’t supposed to have been near the action, and now someone was telling her he had more than been close to it? He had taken part.
She looked at Lucian, hoping he would deny, hoping he would explain, but he stayed there, mute, visibly uneasy. The apologetic look he gave her was all the confirmation she needed. He had lied to her. He had taken risks. He could have died. She could have never seen him again. They could have never shared what they had. She could have never known love.
Feeling herself spiraling into a panic attack, Maeve tried to control her breathing.
“Are you all right, Maeve?” Ailia asked, noticing something wasn’t right.
“Yes,” she lied. “I am feeling a little overwhelmed. All this talk of war…”
“Maybe I should accompany you outside, for some fresh air,” Lucian offered, eager to explain himself in private.
“No!” She wasn’t ready to deal with him. Not yet. “Ailia, I think I want to go home.” Ailia nodded, and they both turned to the men and saluted them with a nod.
Trying to remain as dignified as possible, Maeve moved away, ignoring the erratic beating of her heart.
Lucian was in trouble. He knew it, and he didn’t know how to take care of it. He closed and locked the gate behind him, before making his way into the now-familiar gardens.
He had intended to tell Maeve the truth about Belgium, but he hadn’t found the right time nor the right words. Yes, he hadn’t kept his word of staying away from danger, but the situation hadn’t allowed it.
Quickly, he reached her window and noticed, reassured, that it was open. Maybe she wasn’t that upset after all. He climbed over, and as his feet touched the floor, a book passed flying by his head, missing him by three inches. He instantly turned to its point of origin, and found Maeve near her bed, in her nightgown, her eyes throwing daggers at him.
“You lying bastard!” she erupted, reaching for something on her nightstand. A hairbrush. She threw it too, and he dodged it. Before he had time to prepare for the next item, she threw another book at him. It hit him in the shoulder, and he put his hands forward, trying to protect himself.
“Maeve, darling, can we talk about this?”
“Talk about what? The fact that you have been lying to me for weeks?” She grabbed another object, ready to throw it too. It was a glass sculpture that seemed positively heavy and painful.
“Wait! Is my miserable person really worth breaking whatever this is?” he tried.
Maeve considered the question, looking at the object, and decided to put it back to grab another book instead. Before she had the time to throw it, he had reached her. Holding her tightly, he let their frames fall on the bed to pin her down on the mattress, holding her wrists over her head. She struggled, trying to get free, but he didn’t let her. When she realized she was stuck, she gave up with a growl.
Lucian kissed her throat, trying to calm her. “Now, may I explain myself?” She didn’t answer, so he took it as a yes. “Although I was told my position was to be purely for strategic purposes, I was given a few thousand men to command. From there, I couldn’t avoid going on the battlefield. However, I really intended to steer clear from any danger, for you,” he explained, laying kisses on her throat and chest as he was going. “The battle wasn’t going anywhere, and the situation was becoming desperate.”
He released one of her wrists and slowly opened the tie of her nightgown, before pushing the fabric away to reveal a pale globe and its perky tip to his view. Although manipulating her in such a manner might not have been morally right, he truly needed her to listen. At the moment, this was the most efficient way to keep her receptive and attentive.
“Have you heard of the elite imperial guard?” he asked, before taking her nipple in his mouth. She shook her head with a moan, and he pulled away before blowing a stream of cold air over the wet skin, making her shiver under him. “They were Napoleon’s most experienced soldiers, the ones all of Europe feared,” he explained, reaching down to pull up her shirt. She was now calm and docile, all traces of anger gone, as he was coaxing into a numbing state of arousal.
“Our men were starting to despair when all three thousand of those elite men charged my flank. I had no choice but to retaliate.” He was about to send a hand between her legs when she tensed.
“Are you telling me you fought against three thousand of Europe’s best fighters?” she shouted, struggling again to get away from him. With her free hand, she hit his shoulder, and he gripped her wrist to pin it back next to the other one. He groaned when she landed a hit on his crotch, but after a short struggle, he managed to control her again.
“What was I supposed to do? Abandon my already dispirited men?”
“You could have done a rousing speech!”
“I did, but over the sounds of hundreds of canons, and thousands of rifles, the word doesn’t go far. I had to take action, Maeve.”
Still mad, she wriggled her wrists, trying to free her hand. Worried she would hurt herself, he considered releasing them. When he saw a tear roll down her temple, the truth of what was happening struck him. She wasn’t exactly mad at the lie, but rather distressed by the idea he could have died. He kissed the tear away and looked at her in the eye.
“I didn’t die, Maeve. I am right here with you. I survived.”
“But you could have died, you imbecile.”
“But I didn’t, swan.”
“What would I have done if you hadn’t come back?” she asked, her voice cracking up, more tears filling her eyes.
“You would have kept on living, without me.”
“I don’t think I can anymore. I cannot imagine a future where you’re not.”
Touched by her confession, he kissed her tenderly. She kissed him back, and when he pulled away, they looked at one another, as if staring into each other’s soul.
“I love you,” she professed with a whisper.
Lucian stayed unmoving, stunned by her declaration. She loved him. Maeve loved him. That settled it. He was the luckiest man on the planet. Euphoric, he kissed her, letting go of her wrists to grab her forms, showing her how much she meant to him. They both frantically tugged at his clothes.
“You aren’t wearing your uniform,” she complained with a disappointed pout.
“It wasn’t very discreet.” Her reaction amused him. Did she enjoy the sight of him in uniform? “Did you want me to wear it?”
She nodded, blushing slightly. “Especially now that I know how much of a hero you really are.”
“You haven’t heard the whole story yet.”
“Tell me, then.”
“When the imperial guard charged us, and when we defeated them, it gave the rest of the army the courage to charge the French lines. On their side, when the soldiers heard that Napoleon’s most impressive men had been crushed, they deserted.”
They were both naked now, and he sent a hand between her legs to tease her most sensitive spot.
“Are you— Aaah… Are you telling me you saved Europe?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“But you definitely helped.”
Lucian smiled when he heard the pride in her voice. “Do you like the idea, darling?”
“It has a certain… appeal,” she admitted. “Does it sound vain?”
“No,” he reassured her, placing the swollen head of his shaft at her warm opening. “It sounds like a woman in love,” he corrected as he pushed his entire length inside of her with one firm thrust.
After that, there was no more talking, only their passionate union, body and soul.
【32】Dedicated Host
Even though everything was going according to plan, Maeve couldn’t help being nervous. She looked at her parents, standing further in the large parlor everyone was gathered in. Lucian had been true to his promise, and he’d organized a social evening to allow her to see this other side of him.
As soon as they’d arrived, accompanied by Ailia, she’d understood why Lucian preferred his smaller, more intimate house. She’d actually grown fond of his humble abode, having gone there a few times since her first visit. But this… This didn’t feel as cozy, warm, and cuddly as his other house.
From the outside, it resembled any wealthy house in the neighboring streets, with white stone, tall windows, and imposing columns. Much like a smaller version of her family’s London townhouse, actually. The inside, however, was unlike anything she’d seen before. The best word to describe the interior would be crowded, or maybe overwhelming. She’d heard that the Worthingtons were quite proud of their wealth and prone to displaying it, but this was… too much. Walls barely had any space left, charged with fine tapestries, built-in ornaments, or paintings. The furniture was just as tacky, the chandeliers extravagant, and the carpets overdetailed.
No, most definitely, she much preferred his little house in Mayfair, with the flowers and the coquettish touches.
She hadn’t seen the rest of this one yet, though. They’d arrived about twenty minutes ago and had been mingling with the other guests since. Lucian was proving to be a suitable host, making a point of entertaining all of his guests. Which meant she had enjoyed very little of him so far. To her displeasure, Ackley was among them, but she understood why. Since the goal was to avoid raising any suspicions, Lucian had not only issued an invitation to her family, he’d also invited the people he usually mingled with, as well as his sister, Harriet, who was his only family member living in London.
Three days prior, while they’d been rolling in his sheets, he’d warned her they’d need to be particularly cautious. According to him, his sister had a sixth sense regarding those things, and with one indiscreet glance on their part, she might guess something was going on between them.
It was remarkably hard not to glimpse at Lucian, though. He was dashing in his evening suit, and she wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and claim him in front of everyone. Sensing that she might give them away with all the side glances she kept giving him, she migrated toward her parents and her sister, hoping the conversation could help distract her from their host.
“Do you think all their properties are like this? I remember their home in Bristol being exactly the same,” her mother was saying to her father, observing the overly done decor of the room.
“I know the barony also has a couple of estates in the countryside. I hope those are decorated in a more humble manner,” he answered.
“It’s interesting to see this need for opulence can be passed on.”
Maeve forced herself to bite her tongue, tempted to let her mother know that Lucian wasn’t particularly fond of this either. He was the victim of his parents’ extravagance, and since he barely lived there, he had probably never bothered making it all to his tastes.
Intrigued, she looked at her surroundings, trying to figure out what needed to change for the room to improve. Although she tried to tame her hopes and dreams, part of her couldn’t help but think all this might be hers one day. After what Lucian had said, regarding them having children at some point in the future, she was having a hard time managing her expectations.
“Good evening,” a feminine voice greeted them to her right.
Maeve swiftly focused back on the ongoing evening and noticed only then that Lucian’s sister had joined them. Instantly, she began to panic, before remembering she didn’t have the luxury of acting suspiciously.
Lucian’s sister was accompanied by what she guessed was her husband, holding her arm closely. It was hard to believe Lucian and her were related, even less siblings. Aside from the tint of their eyes, there wasn’t much in common between them. Harriet Nicoletti was petite, blonde, and her silhouette was curvy. Lucian Thorne was the opposite of all those things. Her husband matched her, if such a thing was possible. From what Maeve remembered, he was of Italian origins and imported and sold pricey goods from Tuscany. His enjoyment of good food and wine was made obvious by his slightly protruding stomach.
“Once again we meet,” her father let out in a cordial way. At his side, Maeve’s mother tightened her hold, coming closer to her husband in a possessive way.
“How long has it been?” Harriet asked. Her voice was kind, her smile genuine. “Twenty years?”
“Something along those lines, yes.”
“Darling,” she continued, turning to her husband, “this is the Duke of Leeds and his lovely wife, the Duchess of Leeds. And those are their daughters. My apologies, it has been so long I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your names.”
“I’m Ailia, and this is Maeve.” Both of them offered the Nicolettis a synchronized curtsy.
“You two have grown to become lovely ladies. I am Worthington’s sister, Harriet, in case you can’t remember me. This is my husband, Edgar Nicoletti.”
“Are you not the owner of all those Nicoletti shops around town?” Maeve asked, already knowing the answer.
“I am, yes,” the man answered with pride. “The best of the best. The most authentic Italian delicacies you’ll find on this side of Europe.”
“Cook swears by your products,” the duchess confided. “We send someone to your Brook Street shop maybe once a week, if not more.”
“Well, it’s an honor to cater to such a prestigious family.”
As they spoke more of Nicoletti’s shops and the success of his products, Maeve observed the scene. Harriet had been on the verge of marrying her father, right before her mother came back into the picture with a set of twins. Plans had changed quickly then, and instead of Harriet, the mighty Duke of Leeds had married a woman unknown by all, causing quite the chatter back then.
But as Maeve observed both couples, it couldn’t have been clearer than the matches were the best they could be. Even twenty years later, her parents were still ridiculously enamored with each other, as inseparable as they’d been in their early days. As for Harriet and Edgar Nicoletti, it was clear that the couple harbored a lot of fondness for one another, given their body language and the way they looked at each other.
When she turned to glimpse at the man she hoped was her better half, she noticed he was coming their way. The tendrils on the back of her neck rose, her body tensing slightly.
If he was to join her group, she’d have to give the best performance of her life. Otherwise, his sister or her parents might guess something was going between her and Lucian.
Something scandalous and shameful.
Something she wasn’t ready to let go of…
Thirty minutes. That was the extent of Lucian’s patience. He’d forced himself to wait that long from the Langstons’ arrival, but now, he was done pretending. He was done making small talk; he craved to spend more time with Maeve. She was the reason for this whole farce, after all.
His sister complicated things, but Delawney wasn’t in attendance, which would be in their favor. John had been invited, of course, but he’d been stuck in Guildford for the past two days, over a minor family emergency. No one’s life was at risk, but as the future head of the family, his presence was required.
As Lucian came closer to the group Maeve was with, her parents, her twin, and his own sister and brother-in-law, his hand tingled to slide over her narrow waist, to affirm the claim he had over her. Especially when she twisted around and their gazes met for a brief instant. Hoping it would tame his urges, he made his way into the group between his sister and the duchess, rather than next to the object of his every thought.
“I see everyone has been reacquainted,” he declared. “Your graces, forgive my manners. I’m afraid hosting is a skill I’m not very good at.”
“Non-sense,” the duchess reassured him. “But I will say hosting is a skill you can easily hone. You only get better with each reception until it all becomes effortless. And you have a house that is quite suited for entertaining.”
Lucian grimaced at her last words, vaguely scanning the room. “I will be terribly honest and confess that I’m not quite fond of my parents’ tacky tastes. But I have not minded it much, as I don’t live here myself.”
“I have offered to help you redecorate,” his sister reminded him.
“And I’ve kindly refused. I’m content with my living arrangements in Mayfair for now, so I see no need to bother with this Sisyphean task. And if anyone is to redecorate the place, it might as well be whoever becomes the lady of the house,” he explained. His eyes moved of their own to Maeve’s, meeting her intense blue gaze. But he swiftly turned to his sister instead.
“Whenever that might be,” Harriet teased with indulgence.
“Soon enough, Harriet, worry not.” There was a moment of silence, during which Lucian did his best to avoid looking at the beautiful swan opposite him. “But maybe some of you might be interested in a tour, before that day comes and the place is turned into a proper home — rather than a museum of horrors.”
“I would like a tour, yes,” Maeve was the first to reply. Her twin joined in soon after, and then their mother. The duke considered the question for a moment, but eventually decided against it. Unsurprisingly, Harriet decided to be in on the fun as well, arguing she also had some anecdotes she would share.
With the duchess at his arm and the three other women behind, Lucian began the tour of the preposterously ornamented house. It didn’t take long before Harriet took the lead, though, as she guided their little group through hallways and parlors, taking the time to stop on certain items that quite deserved a pause. Like the portrait of their father, posing before a dead tiger he’d supposedly shot in India. But not only had the late Baron Worthington been terrible with a rifle, he’d also never stepped foot outside of Great Britain, terrified of the sea.
As they progressed, the dynamics changed, and he ended up a few steps behind Lady Ailia, the duchess, and Harriet, with only Maeve by his side. The semblance of intimacy made it hard for them to hold back on their impulses, and they would graze and touch one another, nearly holding hands at points.
“I remember being promised compensation for hosting tonight?” he whispered into her ear. He perceived the way she shivered, and it delighted him.
“We’d need to be alone for you to find out how I’m holding my end of the bargain,” she teased. The lustful promises of her lascivious tone went straight to his cock. A low grunt escaped him, but he did his best to remain composed. Now wasn’t the time to give out any sort of clue.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as Maeve lost her balance next to him. Her arm reached out for him at the same time he moved to hold her up straight. The women in front of them turned around, alerted by the slight commotion. Maeve’s weight was resting on him as she stood on a single leg. There was a grimace on her face as she used him for support while she lowered to touch her left ankle.
“Is everything all right, angel?” the duchess worriedly asked, hastily coming to her.
“Yes, I just— I’m afraid I’ve twisted my ankle again.”
“You poor darling,” Harriet compassionately said.
Lucian was a little lost, wondering if Maeve was faking it all or if she’d genuinely lost her balance and hurt herself. He got his answer when she offered the ladies a disappointed pout.
“It would be better for me to rest, rather than go on with the tour. But I’d hate to interrupt yours,” she added for her sister and mother. “Perhaps Lord Worthington could accompany me back to the others, so I can sit and gauge how serious the injury might be.”
Lucian noticed the moment Lady Ailia understood the subterfuge as well. She rolled her eyes, but no one other than him saw her do it.
“My poor darling,” the duchess let out, entirely blind to her daughter’s lie. “Of course, you must sit for a moment. Can you walk?”
“I believe so, yes.” Playing her part remarkably well, Maeve lowered her ‘injured’ foot to the ground and tested it out. “Yes, I believe I can walk back to the others.”
“Worthington, would you mind taking her back there?”
“Of course not. Once we’re there, I’ll see that she’s provided a pack of ice to help with the pain and the swelling.”
“Perfect, thank you, my lord.”
After a few more exchanges, their group separated in two, the women moving on with their guided tour, and Lucian walking away with a slightly limping Maeve at his arm. “Maybe we should stop by my chambers, so I can fetch you a cane,” he humored.
“A private tour of your chambers does sound appealing.”
As soon as they turned at a corner, out of the ladies’ view if they turned around, Maeve’s limp disappeared altogether. She even hurried the pace, allowing her excitement to take over.
“You are a sublime liar.”
“Believe it or not, I would barely ever lie before meeting you. But as it turns out, I’m good at it when it really matters,” she replied with mischief in her eyes.
A few deserted hallways later, they reached a massive double door. Lucian opened it and pushed her inside with a firm hand on her lower back. These were the master chambers of the house, the one his parents used to occupy, the one he slept in on the rare occasions he lived in this house. Contrary to the rest of the place, he had gotten a few things changed in this room, and it wasn’t as ostentatious as the rest.
Maeve lazily walked into the room, looking for clues of him as she’d done in his house. But barely anything in there was his, which she seemed to have noticed, her interest in the trinkets quickly fading. Instead, her eyes turned to him, beckoning him to approach, like an irresistible siren.
In four strides, he was by her side, his lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her slim figure. His hands coursed over the shapes of her, and a jolt of pleasure stuck her when they landed on her bottom, causing her to moan. His long fingers dug into the malleable masses there, eagerly palming her.
“Now that we’re alone… What’s my compensation, swan?”
“You’re a smart man, Lucian Thorne… Maybe you should find out all by yourself?”
He moved to look down at her with a mix of amusement and arousal. He had some idea of what she might have done for it, and he couldn’t wait to confirm his suspicions. Behind her, he grabbed handfuls of fabric, leisurely pulling the skirts of her dress up. She remained in his embrace, unmoving, even though she could barely contain her excited amusement.
Once the skirt was completely up, at least at the back of it, Lucian sent a curious hand toward the answer he sought. He witnessed the way her eyes darkened when his calloused palm reached the bare skin below. As for himself, the realization that she was naked underneath her dress made his prick swell in its confines.
“Hmm… Who knew the Black Swan could be so agreeable?” he approvingly grunted.
“You must know that some of us discard our undergarments when the weather is too hot,” she pointed out. Even now, part of her refused to be considered agreeable.
“But is the weather hot today?”
It hadn’t been, and they both knew it. The day had been uncharacteristically cool, even, and this evening even more. She wasn’t so stubborn that she’d lie about this, so she shook her head, admitting her defeat.
“So you did this for me,” he declared, very appreciative. “When you dressed earlier, you purposefully didn’t put on anything, maybe even removed it, because you knew I’d notice, and you wanted to drive me mad.” He lowered his hand behind her, and with a bold caress from the back, he slid two fingers along her intimate folds. She shivered in his arms, letting out a trembling breath that made him even harder for her. “Then you exited the house, aware of your nakedness underneath your evening dress, and sat in the carriage with your family, bare between your legs. And then you stood in the parlor, with all those people, and it excited you to know you were hiding this for me.”
His naughty words made her pant, inflaming her so much that her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink. “I told you I’d make it worth your hardship,” she whispered.
With an unexpected shove, he pushed her back, making her lose her balance. Her yelp died in her throat as she landed on the soft mattress of his bed. “Lucian, we don’t have time for this!”
“Five minutes. Give me five minutes and you won’t regret it.” He was over her already, caging her body with his, nested between her legs.
“Must I remind you that your sister and my parents are out there? We need to be careful!”
“I promise you won’t care about any of that by the time I’m done with you.”
“What kind of host are you? Abducting me and keeping me away from my family…” She tried to maintain a serious tone, but she couldn’t help the giggles. His hands were busy lifting her skirt, so he could access the parts of her she’d kept naked for him.
“I’m a very dedicated host, is what I am. I take it very seriously. It’s your turn now, but everyone will get a turn— Aaah,” he grunted with surprise. She’d grabbed his lower lip with her teeth, and was pulling on it relatively hard. It didn’t last long though, as she quickly released him with a scowl. “I was jesting, Maeve,” he told her after stretching his mouth to chase away the discomfort of her retribution. This woman was like wildfire, but he didn’t mind getting burned by her.
“You mean you won’t drag Ackley here and ravish him with passionate kisses?”
Seeing that she wasn’t offended reassured him. But there was a veil of doubt that lingered in her eyes.
“What is it, Maeve?”
“I don’t like when you say things like this, because… it makes me feel like you’re not mine. Not mine alone.”
“Of course I am.”
His admission, so spontaneous he hadn’t even thought about it, seemed to do something to her. Something changed in her eyes, her face all soft and perfect beneath his. After a few seconds of her staring at him, she extended her neck to kiss him tenderly.
“Join me in my room tonight, then,” she negotiated. “I want you for longer than five minutes.”
He was hard between them, and he could sense the heat of her center seeping through their clothes. He wanted her terribly, but she was right. Anything now would be risky, and it wasn’t worth it. Not when he could be in her bed in a few hours, with much more freedom than now.
Ignoring his aching erection, he granted her one last kiss before moving away from her. He helped her up as well, and then watched as she arranged her dress and hair.
It was time for them to return downstairs with the rest of the guests. Which he hoped wouldn’t linger for too long after dinner. He had better things to do than entertain them.
Dinner unfolded without a hiccup, the staff was still efficient despite their lack of practice. He was seated at one extremity of the long table. His sister was to his left, Maeve two seats to his right, and the duke was on the other end of the table, with his wife next to him. The wine Edgar had brought was flowing, the conversation was lively, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
He could understand the appeal of hosting such evenings, as the people gathered were — for the most part — people he genuinely cared about. Only John was missing, and Lucian regretted that his friend couldn’t have made it. His presence would have improved the atmosphere even further. But at least he could steal glances at Maeve without worrying that yet another person might catch onto it.
Lucian was doing exactly that, his eyes observing the delicate beauty of her profile over the glass of wine he was drinking. When the sitting arrangement had been brought to him, he’d made sure she was far from Ackley, knowing it would have ruined her evening. So instead, she was sitting between Edgar and Waverly, and while Lucian couldn’t hear everything she was saying, he could tell she would make for a splendid hostess one day. She might dislike crowds and overwhelming evenings, but she was thriving in more intimate settings, such as this one.
“Is it her?” his sister asked discreetly, interrupting his thoughts.
“Pardon me?”
“Before you left for Belgium, you told me you might have found a woman. ‘Beyond beautiful’ were your words, if I remember correctly. Were you talking about Lady Maeve?”
Frustration made his jaw clench while he tried to think of a way to deny. Had he not been as subtle as he’d thought? Slowly, he let down his glass, giving himself some time to answer.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was the best he could come up with. Damn it, that wouldn’t work.
“Don’t play stupid, Lucian. You’re too clever for that.”
“I said whatever I had to for you to accept my departure,” he invented. Which wasn’t entirely false.
“You can’t lie to me, boy. I’m the one who taught you how to, remember?”
He huffed his disapproval, irked. “You ask too many questions, Harriet.”
“I’m asking one question. Stop being so dramatic. But no need to answer now. I know the truth, regardless of what you’ll say.”
“I will stop inviting you if this is how you behave,” Lucian warned her.
“You could never be rid of me.”
With her fork, she pricked a piece of her lamb, brought it to her mouth, and while she chewed on it, she unabashedly eyed Maeve. “She is beyond beautiful indeed,” she approved. “I understand why she caught your eye. You also mentioned she was quite feisty?”
Lucian gave up on maintaining the illusion with a sigh. His sister had guessed, and nothing he could say would change her mind. “It takes some time to understand how to handle her. But it was nothing I couldn’t figure out.”
He feared he might have said too much when he noticed the way Harriet frowned, her eyes still locked on Maeve. “I’m almost scared to ask now, but I hope you are doing things the proper way.”
“That isn’t any of your business, I’m afraid.”
“Lucian, one doesn’t fool around with the daughter of a duke,” she whispered with intensity. Thankfully, the guest next to her was engrossed in a conversation with Lady Ailia, ignoring them entirely.
“Adoptive daughter,” Lucian pointed out.
“After twenty years of serving as a father figure for her and her twin, the nuance doesn’t matter anymore. Lucian, please… Tell me you’re not being stupid about this.”
“I thought I was too clever to be stupid?”
“Not if you two are doing what I think you’re doing.”
Lucian didn’t answer right away, miffed by his sister’s comments. He was too old to be scolded in such a manner, and he didn’t need her to weigh in on what was happening between him and Maeve. He already knew all of it was highly irregular, and was aware that he needed to sort out the mess he’d put them into.
“Do you remember what I did for you twenty years ago?” he asked Harriet, hoping he could get her off his back. Just the reminder of the support he’d shown her then was enough to get a reaction out of her. She pinched her lips and avoided his gaze. “When the parents wanted to marry you off to an older man of high nobility, one at this very table, but you couldn’t imagine a worse fate because you were in love with another one?”
She didn’t reply, but her small nod encouraged him to continue. “I supported you, listened to you, and even covered for you at points whenever you and Edgar had your illicit encounters. I’m not even asking you to show the same involvement in return. I’m merely asking you to stay out of my affairs, Harriet.”
Silence fell between them, and Lucian worried he’d offended her. It hadn’t been his intention, but he still hoped she’d leave him be.
“All right, I apologize for my meddling. I was only trying to protect you, little bother.”
“And I appreciate you for that, Harry. But I’m old enough to judge which mistakes I can and cannot afford.”
“I hope you’re right about this one, Luce. Even Father wasn’t foolish enough to cross the Duke of Leeds.”
“Don’t worry. This story won’t have a bad ending.”
And he meant those words. While they’d taken a rather unconventional path, it would lead them to a very conventional destination.
But Harriet was right, in a way. He needed to sort this affair before things took a wrong turn.
Maeve was too important to take the risk of losing her.
【33】Surprising Visitor
Lucian was trying to occupy his mind as best as he could, to get over the fact she wasn’t coming this afternoon.
Since their first night, almost three weeks had passed, and he had managed to see her almost every day. However, for the fourth day in a row, they hadn’t been able to meet. She had family visiting, an aunt, and both rooms on each side of hers were taken. They had decided not to take unnecessary risks, so he hadn’t sneaked into her bed. She had proposed to try to come this afternoon, but he had received a note this morning, informing him she couldn’t get out of the house.
Four days. It had only been four days, and he was already going mad. Lucian went to his study and fetched the small wooden box that rested in the middle. He opened it and gazed at the ring inside. It was a large diamond with a cushion-cut that had been in the family for several generations.
Although the ring had been quite simple at first, every lord had added a little to it, and the ring was now intricate with a row of tiny diamonds surrounding the main stone. The gold band had sophisticated designs on each side of the stone, with more diamonds embedded. He hoped Maeve would like it. She sometimes wore heavy, luxurious necklaces, but mostly she stuck to a delicate one with a thin chain and a small diamond pendant. Also, she always wore a very simple pair of earrings, made of three small diamonds. He wasn’t sure she would enjoy the extravaganza of the ring, but he was positive diamond was the right stone for her. If she found it to be too much, he could always have it simplified by a jeweler.
In the note he had sent his mother, upon his return to London, he had asked her for the family’s engagement ring, without giving any details regarding whom he intended to give it to. His mother had sent it, along with a very enthusiastic letter, where she tried to intimidate him into revealing a name. Since the women in his family couldn’t keep secrets from each other, he had then received several letters from each of his four sisters, also demanding a name. Luckily for him, Harriet and her family were gone to their country house for the summer, or she would have undoubtedly dropped by to get answers, torturing them out of him if necessary.
Yes, he was going to ask Maeve to marry him. He was tired of the secrecy, tired of not being able to tell anyone. At thirty-one, he was too old for this. Enough with the clandestineness. He wanted her, by his side, every day of the week. He wanted them to be able to share a bed without the fear of being discovered. He wanted to wake up next to her, at any hour of the morning, and not have to rush out.
But mostly, he wanted the world to know.
He already knew she was his, but now, the others needed to know too.
His only problem was Delawney. How would his friend take the news? John had made it clear he wanted to marry Maeve, but Lucian knew it was the idea of her that he wanted, rather than the woman herself. Still, he didn’t doubt it would cause some issues.
Someone knocked at the front door, and Lucian shoved the small box in his pocket, before going to see who it was.
Thursday was the personnel’s day off, which was why he had told Maeve to come on Thursdays. He didn’t have many people working for him here, as he enjoyed the privacy. Today, however, the cook, the maid, and the valet were out enjoying their family or friends.
Lucian reached the main door and opened it. A woman was looking at the street, her back at him, and for a second, when he saw the dark hair styled in a perfect bun and the elegant silk dress, his heart suddenly raced in his chest. Maeve! She had managed to come after all! Alas, quickly, he realized the woman before him wasn’t as tall nor as slender as Maeve.
The woman turned around, and Lucian froze, stunned. Before him stood Maeve’s mother, the Duchess of Leeds. She gave him a warm smile, which didn’t help Lucian feel better. He had barely ever talked to the woman, and her presence here could only mean one thing. She knew, or at least suspected, something was happening between him and Maeve.
The duchess cleared her throat, and Lucian’s manners took over his confusion, and he invited her in with a hand gesture. She entered and looked around, quite interested in what his humble house looked like.
“Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I came here to talk to you,” she explained, still exploring, moving to an adjacent room. “About Maeve.”
Lucian followed her, wondering what on earth she wanted to talk about. He watched as she inspected the content of a glass cabinet. While she was distracted, Lucian observed her, detailing her for the first time. The woman was beautiful. The natural tan of her skin, coupled with her dark hair and her dark eyes, gave her a somehow exotic aura. Her silhouette was plumpier than Maeve’s, her forms generous, and yet her waist was still narrow. She held herself with grace, and her moves were elegant. She was in her early forties, and she barely showed any signs of age, except for a few fine lines that marked the skin of her face, on the corner of her eyes, on each side of her mouth, and a straight one between her brows. In her raven-black hair, he could see a few gray ones, almost unnoticeable, but the glint in her eyes made up for it, giving her some kind of youthfulness.
The duchess finally straightened up and turned to Lucian. She observed him from head to toe, and her eyes moved back up to his.
“Do you love her?” she asked out of the blue, shocking him with her directness.
Puzzled, Lucian tried to figure out the woman before him. She knew about him and Maeve. She should be angry, scandalized, making threats… Yet, her voice was calm, her expression solely inquisitive. The duchess patiently waited for his answer.
“Yes,” he finally admitted.
She nodded. “Good. It is clear to me she is in love with you, and I needed to make sure it was reciprocal.” She looked away again and focused on bibelots on a shelf. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”
“I intend to marry her. If she accepts.”
The duchess gave him a smile. “Oh, she will accept. I have never seen her so happy than in the past few weeks. Tell me, Worthington, are you a good man, and do you deserve her?”
Lucian frowned, surprised by her line of questioning. Since she seemed so open, he decided to be honest with her. “I am not, no. Regardless of that, I think very few men actually deserve your daughter.”
The duchess smiled compassionately. “I am glad to see that someone finally managed to see past this persona she created for herself.” She paused and sat down on an armchair. “You see, Maeve and Ailia were hell-bent on never marrying. Especially Maeve. I think Ailia was mostly following. It was because they had planned to live alone together, sure they needed no men to find happiness. My husband and I decided to give them every opportunity to change their minds. We negotiated for them to go through six Seasons, with the hope they would meet the right person; the man who would change their mind. We always knew Maeve would be more complicated. As the years passed, we tried to put the odds in our favor, no chaperone, no questions…
“However, you can only imagine what two young women, looking like they do, were subjected to. Men, who mostly wanted to possess them, rather than love and cherish them, constantly harassed them. As time passed, they changed and toughened up, becoming hermetic to men in general.” The duchess frowned, remorseful.
“We don’t know if we did something wrong, or if it was bound to happen no matter what. All we wanted was to protect them, and I cannot help but feel like we failed. Maeve built that impregnable wall. It was like a shield made of coldness and disdain for your sex.” The duchess looked at him, thankful. “That very wall you managed to tear down.”
Lucian didn’t say anything. He had no idea as to why she had chosen him, how he had managed to break that wall. He hadn’t been charming, on the contrary, he had been an absolute arse to her. Maybe that was what she had needed; an opponent, rather than a suitor. With what the duchess had told him, he understood Maeve a little better now. She was never haughty and arrogant. She was defending herself.
“I am afraid she still is stubborn and irascible. Although, I think you are up for the task,” the duchess noted with an indulging smile. “By now you must also have realized that behind that strong facade, she is fragile, as her feelings tend to overwhelm her.”
Lucian nodded. He knew all too well about her insecurities and her fragility. The duchess stood up and came closer to him, suddenly looking less sympathetic and more intimidating.
“Allow me to be very clear with you. I think you are the right person for her. Even my husband feels the same, and that is coming from a man for whom no one could ever be good enough for his daughters. So you better not disappoint us, Worthington, or rest assured that if you hurt her, we will retaliate. Is that clear?”
She was a foot shorter than him, but her assurance and her threatening voice were enough to make him feel intimidated. He nodded compliantly, and she became all nice and considerate again.
“I think this is all I wanted to talk to you about,” she concluded before going back to the entrance hall while he followed. “Ah! No,” she remembered before turning to him again. “I know what you two are doing is very fun and exciting, all this illicitness, this secrecy…” Lucian gave her a questioning look, still destabilized by how disembarrassed she was about all this. “I was once young and in love too, my lord,” she justified herself. “Nevertheless, please, quickly make an honest woman out of her. I do not want to risk that my first grandchild might be the subject of scandals and gossip.”
Lucian touched the box in his pocket, his lips pursed in a smile at her boldness.
“I intend to, your Grace.”
She smiled satisfied and went to the door. Lucian opened it for her, and she left without another word. Closing behind her, he rested his back against the wooden panel, confused by what had happened.
How could a woman of her rank be so unphased by the knowledge that her daughter had been compromised? Any other person would have sent a bunch of thugs to break his kneecaps, or made threats, or a scandal. But no. The woman had casually let him know she was aware of the affair and had cordially asked him to marry her daughter before waiting too long.
For God’s sake, he had even admitted to not being deserving of Maeve. But still, the duchess hadn’t complained. Lucian shook his head, moving away from the door. What a strange family…
As he went back upstairs, he touched the ring’s box, thinking of their life to come. They would probably spend most of their time in Bristol, where the family estate was located. His mother lived there for now, but he would find her another place. There was no way he would start his married life under the scrutiny of his mother.
As he thought of the house, he was reminded it would need some improvement. It was over-decorated, as his parents had never had good tastes. He doubted Maeve would appreciate the overloaded ambiance. She would have carte blanche to change it as she wished, to make it her home. Their home. But still, even if they redecorated the entire house, made improvements to elevate it to the latest standards, it was still far from what Maeve was used to. She deserved better. She deserved more.
He wanted to give her everything life had to offer. He wanted to give her comfort, riches, and a prosperous position, equaling her current quality of life. He didn’t want her to feel as if she was marrying down or losing something by choosing him. He needed to be more. To be able to offer her all this, he needed to be more than a simple baron.
【34】Scorned Lady
With a very satisfied smile, Maeve stretched her deliciously sore limbs. She was lying on Lucian’s bed, resting on her stomach, just waking up from a nap.
The room surrounding her was now familiar to her. The entire house was, really. It was the place Lucian had bought before inheriting his title, and he favored it to the other one. He’d never cared for the family’s terrasse in London, which was, according to him, pointlessly large and outrageously ostentatious.
Although she was used to living in great comfort, she could see the perks of an existence in such a place. The privacy they had would be hardly possible with the army of domestics needed to run a larger house.
In all truth, she would be happy with whatever way of life Lucian preferred, as long as he was willing to share it with her.
Turning her head around and saw him, his back resting on the headboard, reading a book. The sheets were pulled up to his hips, while the rest of him was fully displayed to her view. The heat of mid-July was well installed, and they only had thin linens to cover them. She rolled on her back, not minding her exposed breasts.
Lucian finally noticed she was awake, looked hungrily at her body, but didn’t move to act on his awaking needs.
Six days. She had been away from him for six days. She loved her aunt Annabelle, and enjoyed having her cousins around, but when they had finally left, she had watched their carriage leave with great satisfaction. As soon as she had been able to, she had left the house, pretending to go see Anita. Instead, she had, of course, come here to Lucian, who was expecting her.
It had been quite flattering to see those six days had been unbearable for him too. She had barely entered the house that he had ravaged her with a savage kiss. Unceremoniously, Lucian had propped her on a console table, lifted her skirts, and opened his breeches. When he’d witnessed how drenched she already was for him, he’d entered her with a firm thrust.
During the entire way here, her mind had been filled with thoughts of all the things she wanted to do to him, as well as the ones she wanted him to do to her. So, her center had been slowly preparing for it during the twenty minutes it took to reach his house. Still, she hadn’t expected him to be so eager to have her. Once the shock had dissipated, Maeve had ended up begging and writhing, actively seeking her long-awaited release. With his usual efficiency, Lucian had brought them both to satisfaction, leaving her a little disoriented afterward.
Then, feeling a little guilty for his savagery, he had helped her out of her hat and light cloak, before guiding her upstairs. There, he had possessed her once more, showing a little more restraint, but still not much of it. She smiled as she remembered the wicked things he had done to her in the bed, putting her calves on his shoulders, pushing deep inside of her, over and over.
They were making up for lost time, but they needed to pick up the pace. It had been almost a week, after all. She wondered how long she had slept, hoping they still had some left. Pushing on her elbows, she forced the upper part of her body up to be able to glance at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. She had been out for a little over half an hour. They still had an hour before she would have to leave.
With a mischievous smile, she pulled the sheets off of their bodies, feeling enterprising. He gave her a questioning glance, but she didn’t bother answering his silent question. Without a word, she moved to straddle him, pressing her slit into his resting shaft. She smiled when she felt his flesh already swelling under hers.
“What are you reading?” she wondered, entirely uninterested by the answer.
With his index marking his page, he closed the book and looked down at the cover with disdain. “It’s a philosophical essay. The author asks questions about life, death, happiness… It’s rather dull.”
Maeve took the book from him and threw it over her shoulder. It fell to the floor with a loud ‘thump’, and Lucian cocked his eyebrow at her. “I shall answer your questions then, and try to make it less dull,” she proposed, before bending over to lay amorous kisses along his jaw.
“About life, death, and happiness?”
“About anything you want.” Her lips were now reaching down his neck, and she bent further to press her mouth on the few scars she could access.
“In that case, I have been wondering… Is it true you refused the Prince Regent’s advances?”
Surprised, she straightened up to look into his eyes. “Is this really what you want to talk about when I am on your lap, entirely naked?”
“I cannot help but wonder, why did you choose me? Of all the men you have encountered, why am I the only one who has ever interested you?”
Touched by his lack of confidence, she laid a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, she locked her eyes on his. “I don’t really know. You are certainly attractive, which may have helped. But I think it is because we are so much alike. Able to feel lonely in a sea of people and hiding our true selves behind a mask of indifference. Maybe I saw past yours, and you saw past mine, because we knew more laid underneath.” She stopped and touched the left side of his chest, just over his heart. “As for the Prince Regent,” she continued, a little offended, “have you ever met the man? He is enormous, smells foul, and has no decency. His interest in both Ailia and I was hardly an honor, as he doesn’t exactly hide his interest in extra-conjugal affairs.”
“Are you saying you would love me less if I became fat and developed an unpleasant aroma?” he asked, pretending to be outraged.
She laughed and gave him a small jab on the shoulder. “I don’t really see how you could get fat with all that activity,” she noted. She bent and inhaled his skin at the junction of his neck and his shoulder. “As for the aroma, you smell good even when sweating, it’s ridiculous.”
He smiled and rested a hand on her hips, raising the other one up to her face, to graze her cheek tenderly. With a devoted gaze, he admired her features, making her cheeks warm at the intensity of his green irises. “I’m glad you chose me.”
She framed his face between her hands and pressed her forehead against his. “I’m glad too.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately.
When it became insufficient to satisfy their appetites, she positioned his shaft under her, coating it with her arousal. Slowly, she lowered down on it, impaling herself on his hard flesh. It was the third time this afternoon, and all notions of urgency were gone. She rode him at a lazy pace, enjoying their proximity, letting herself be wrapped by the intensity of what they shared. He was helping her move up and down, his hands on her hips, but he let her control the moment.
Maeve loved this position. She enjoyed being in charge, enjoyed how it felt to draw out his pleasure and her own. Also, the view was quite incredible. All she had to do was look down to see the spot where their body joined. Putting her forehead on his shoulder, she did just that, and watched his long and hard shaft come in and out of her, still impressed by how much of him could fit inside. As he had promised, there was no more pain, only this delicious feeling of being filled, and the pleasure that intensified with each thrust.
It took her a moment to remember about the protection, and when she did, she decided to dismiss it. Although French letters were quite handy to avoid a pregnancy, she hated the sensation of it, preferring to have his skin right against hers, free of any barrier. Lucian didn’t seem to enjoy using a condom either, forgoing the use of it whenever he could. In all the times they’d done it now, he’d only been unable to pull out once, and it had been her fault. Riding him always brought a sense of power, and she’d been too absorbed by the moment to allow him to retreat, firmly planted over him.
Thankfully, her monthly bleeding had just happened — during her aunt’s visit. According to Lucian, this was the sign that she wasn’t with child, and as long as it kept occurring, they were safe.
For endless minutes, she stayed over her dashing baron like this, lazily undulating over him, looking down at his lengthy girth withdrawing and entering her, the veiny flesh glistening with her juices, their pleasure growing. She felt his fingers tighten on her hips and knew he was getting close. She was too.
Slipping a hand under her chin, he forced her head up to make her look at him in the eye. “Maeve, I have something else I need to ask you.” Not stopping her momentum, she nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I wanted to ask… It still isn’t as high a title as a princess, but would you agree to become a marchioness?”
His question shocked her so profoundly, he might as well have slapped her. She was making love to him, they were having a sweet, wonderful moment, and he dared ask her if she would marry another man? A marquess? After all this, was he trying to get rid of her by marrying her off? Passing her like a hot potato? Washing his hands off of her?
How could he!
Fuming, she moved away from him, angrily shoving her fisted hands on his chest, their bodies separating. With her limbs trembling with rage, she left the bed to look for her things. After everything they’d shared, how dare he treat her that way? Like a nuisance that needed to be sorted?
With a murderous glare in his direction, she silently cursed the damned man. Astonished, Lucian was gawking at her, confused as if her reaction wasn’t perfectly justified.
“Why would you ask me that!” she said vehemently while putting on her shirt. “Do you know of a marquess who wouldn’t mind marrying a loose woman? Is that your plan? Making me another man’s problem?”
He was more and more confused when suddenly, something seemed to make sense in his mind. “Fuck… Maeve, no,” he started, getting out of the bed. “Damn it… I’m a bloody idiot.”
“Well, on that, we can agree!”
She was struggling with the tie of her petticoat, and her ire latched onto the bloody knot that just wouldn’t undo itself. When he reached for her, putting his steady hands over her trembling ones, she shoved them away. Tears of frustration, anger, and sadness were filling her eyes, and when she looked up at his handsome face, she could barely make out his familiar features. After everything, he wanted her to become someone else’s…
Although she couldn’t think straight or see much, she guessed the distress plastered on his face. “Maeve, darling,” he called with a soothing tone. “I meant me.”
The ruckus of emotions ceased, as it was her turn to be confused. He… He wanted to marry her?
【35】Clumsy Marquess
Maeve looked up at Lucian, at his indulging smile, his hopeful eyes… Had he truly meant to ask for himself, and not some random Marquess he might know of?
“But you said—”
“I know, that wasn’t very clever of me. Let me explain. When they asked me to go to Belgium, they offered the Earldom of Bath, which would become a marquessate by the end of the year,” he revealed. “I refused at first, but I met with them Friday, to accept their offer, to be a little more worthy of you.”
Maeve stayed perfectly still, her heart racing in her chest, her confused thoughts bouncing in her head. He wanted to marry her. They would spend their entire lives together. They would have children, grandchildren… They would grow old together.
“Maeve, say something please.”
“You— You want to marry me?” she stuttered.
“Of course, my darling. I am sorry it took so long, but as you well know, I can be quite obtuse.” He gave her the sweetest, most tender kiss he had ever given her. “I want you, Maeve. I wish for nothing more than the honor of spending a lifetime by your side.”
She stood there as he went to fetch something in the drawer of his nightstand. Once back, he lowered down on one knee before her, wincing slightly at the pain from his bad leg, and lifted a small box forward. He opened it and her eyes widened. It was a gorgeous ring, made of a multitude of diamonds and intricate details.
“Maeve Langston,” he solemnly said, “will you marry me?”
Euphoria invaded her, and she gaped at the man before her. It was hardly the proposal she had imagined, as he was stark naked and she was half-dressed, but she already knew she would cherish this memory for the rest of her life.
“Of course I will marry you, you idiot.”
He sighed, reassured. “Your idiot.”
Taking the ring out, he gently took her hand and slipped it on her finger. She looked at the jewel as tears of joy slowly filled her eyes.
“Maeve, darling,” he called, bringing her attention back to him. “It’s rather embarrassing, but I need help to get up, my knee is killing me.”
She laughed indulgently and pulled on his forearm to assist him. Once standing, he lovingly wrapped his arms around her to kiss her.
“You do know I would have gladly been your baroness too, right?”
“I know. I wanted to do this for you. As a show of my affection.”
“There are other, simpler ways for you to demonstrate,” she argued, removing the few garments she had managed to slip on in her haste to leave. With a low laugh, he guided her back to the bed.
They fell onto it in a messy tangle of limbs, chuckling with happiness. Their elated moods switched into something more primal as he placed himself between her spread legs and pushed his shaft into her willing flesh.
“Maeve, my black swan, my darling, my fiancée… I promise I will make you happy,” he declared, starting the maddening rolling of his hips.
“I know you will. And if you don’t— Aah! I won’t hesitate to let you know.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Lucian remained on top of her for a few more minutes, the sinuous rhythm of his thrusts bringing her closer and closer to the climax they both sought. When she remembered she’d taken charge earlier, recalling how much she loved being the one to bring them to heaven, she pushed on his torso and twisted her hips. With a now-practiced move, she made them roll over, ending on top of him instead. It was clear she’d only managed because he was willing to allow it, as Lucian was particularly stronger than her. Thankful he’d let her lead, she bent forward and pressed her lips on his, feasting on the taste of him.
As she straightened up, she grabbed his hands at her hips and brought them up to her breasts. Imperious, she silently demanded that he fondled those instead, pressing his palms over her modest mounds and firmly keeping them there.
When she met his gaze, her skin tingled all over from the scorching sensations his green irises spread through her limbs. This man would be hers for the rest of her life. They would marry, live together, have a family, grow old…
The back and forth of her hips started, slow and sensual. With her hands pressed on his solid chest, she let her mind drift to the infinite possibilities this new perspective offered. They would have thousands of days together, an uncountable number of these intimate moments, infinite hours of talking and enjoying each other’s presence… She would get to know him as well as she knew herself, and she couldn’t wait for that day to come.
She wanted to consume Lucian and be consumed by him. Lucian Thorn would be hers for all of eternity, and she would be his.
What an incredible life they would have together.
In awe, Lucian watched the heavenly creature passionately making love to him, amazed once more to be the recipient of her affections, be them tender or lustful. He admired Maeve’s splendid body, the way her perky breasts bounced with each of her motions, how her flat stomach contracted every time her hips thrust forward, and how her beautiful face was flushed from both the effort and the pleasure.
Even though they’d have a lifetime together, he could already tell he’d never grow bored with the fierce beauty before him. She was, by any means, the most sensational, the most interesting, and the most perfect woman he could have ever thought of.
He wasn’t certain what he would have done if she’d refused his proposal, but he was thankful he wouldn’t get to discover it. She’d seemed as eager for the union as he was, and it had reassured him, even though it hadn’t been a surprise. He still felt stupid for the way he’d brought it up, hating the distress he’d put her through because of his poor choice of words. But everything was good now. Perfect, even.
Bloody Christ, he was going to marry Maeve Langston.
With his hands at her hips, he was assisting her in her endeavor to bring their pleasure to completion. Looking down, he observed for a moment the spot where their bodies joined and separated, enjoying greatly the sight of his cock being swallowed by her hungry slit. Truly, he could never grow accustomed to any of this; it was impossible.
“Lucian,” she moaned, the momentum of her hips increasing.
By now, he knew her well enough to understand she was about to come, only needing the slightest push for her pleasure to reach its apogee. One of his hands unclenched the flesh at her hip, and he sent it toward the triangle of dark curls between her legs. His thumb found the spot instantly, and Lucian rolled a careful tip over that sensitive little nub, just the way she loved it.
“Aah, yes!” she cried out, shattering over him in under ten seconds.
Her hips jolted erratically as she endured her orgasm, and Lucian clenched his teeth in agony, struggling not to join her in bliss. He wanted to let her get to the end of her climax before pulling out, to draw out as much pleasure as she could endure. The way her insides quivered around him made it impossible, though, so he gave up, attempting to lift her off him.
As always when she was in charge, she wasn’t thinking straight enough to withdraw. He couldn’t blame her, not when he knew how hard it was to pull away at the exact moment he wanted nothing more than to be deeply buried inside of her. He struggled for a moment, fighting both her powerful hold on him and the incoming of his climax, before giving up with a grunt.
Maeve kept moaning, writhing, and quivering over him as he spilled his seed deep into her, muttering a low curse. With each spurt of his cum, his guilt increased, regretting not being stronger, not being able to resist her. When their orgasms faded away, she let herself down over him, pressing her sweaty, heaving, and exhausted body on his.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop,” she mumbled, apparently realizing what had happened.
Because he made sure never to make her doubt her natural sensuality, Lucian gently pushed her damp hair away from her heated face and offered her an understanding smile. “It’s alright. I couldn’t either.”
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to control it?”
“With time, yes. But now that we are getting married, there won’t be a need for that anymore.”
She fell silent, as if she hadn’t thought of that yet. But yes, them getting married meant a pregnancy wouldn’t be so troublesome. They wouldn’t have to be as careful, since they would have every right to go all the way and conceive a child.
After a gentle kiss on her forehead, Lucian turned to glimpse at the clock. It was almost five. She needed to leave. He told her that, but she pouted and wriggled closer to him, his softening shaft still inside of her.
Clearly, they were both reluctant to see her leave.
Eventually, she moved away from him, but instead of leaving the bed, she lay next to him, their frames pressed together. Her head was resting on his shoulder, the familiar smell of her hair filling his lungs. With her hand, she drew mindless patterns on his chest, the delicate tips of her fingers igniting all sorts of sparks on his skin.
Every now and then, the ring would catch the light, reminding him how lucky he was. She would become Maeve Thorne, Lady Worthington, his wife. The only question left was ‘when’? He would most certainly not wait six months for the wedding. However, a future Marquess and the daughter of a duke could hardly elope.
“How long does it take to plan a wedding?” he wondered.
“It depends. At least two months. Ailia has been at it for over five months now. I don’t think I could wait for—” She stopped abruptly, lifting her head, thinking intensely.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking that— No, forget it.” Disappointed, she put her head down again.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“I thought we might use her wedding for us. All the people I would want to invite are coming. You would only have to invite your people.”
The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a great idea. Why go through the fastidious task of planning a wedding and wait for months, when this very viable option was possible?
“Why couldn’t we do it?”
She gazed up at him. “I wouldn’t mind doing it, Ailia is the person I am the closest to. It would be wonderful to marry on the same day as her. However, wouldn’t you mind sharing the day with another couple?”
“Maeve, if I could, I would drag you all the way to Scotland and marry you before next week. I don’t care about how the deed is done, as long as it is soon.” She nodded in agreement and kissed his chest before resting her head on it again. Mindlessly, his fingers played with a dark lock of her hair. “When is the wedding already?”
“On the twelfth.”
Lucian grinned with contentment. They would be married in under a month.
【36】Bloody Pact
Maeve was impressed by how perfectly everything was unfolding.
The day after Lucian had asked her to marry him, on Monday, he had come to her house to officially ask for her hand and give her the ring. Her parents had accepted without a single question, and she couldn’t help but feel like they had seen it coming. Her mother seemed delighted by the engagement, and her father — although downhearted to know another one of his girls was to marry — was mostly happy for her.
Ailia had accepted to share her wedding day instantly. As twins, they’d always tried to match each other’s milestones, to be on the same level. Them getting married at the same time meant a lot for both of them. Maeve was relieved to know she and Lucian wouldn’t have to go through the fastidious organization of their own wedding. As he’d said, the faster the better, and they really couldn’t have done it faster than that.
Since their affection for one another was now official, Maeve had insisted their illicit nocturnal visits should stop. There was no reason to take any more risks when they would be married so soon. It was a very rational resolution they had both agreed on, but she already regretted it and knew he did too.
It was now Friday, and she was at a dinner party with her parents, her sister, and Anita, whom they had invited. Lucian was also here, accompanied by Delawney, and she was having a hard time not throwing herself at him.
She still couldn’t believe her luck. The engagement hadn’t even been announced yet, but she knew this would be better than anything she could have imagined. A lifetime with Lucian by her side, satisfying her every need and covering her with love.
Love…
Sometimes, like now, she had doubts, and she wished he could tell her about his feelings. She couldn’t help but worry and be anxious about such things. She had told him she loved him on numerous occasions, but he had never returned the words. Was it an omission on his part, or was it simply because her feelings weren’t returned?
He had never actually told her he loved her. Deep down, she suspected he did. It showed in each of his kisses, each of his gazes. She was almost certain of it, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t just lust?
No. He loved her. He did. As much as she loved him.
She looked at her fiancé, on the other side of the room, talking to the host with Delawney, and she caught him staring at her. They exchanged a complicit smile, and she returned her attention to her sister and Anita.
“So,” her friend asked, “have you decided where you would spend your honeymoon?”
Maeve smiled, remembering that discussion she’d had with Lucian. “Given how we intend to spend it, we are certainly not going all the way to Italy,” she joked, teasing Ailia. Her sister shrugged her shoulders, half-amused, half-embarrassed, and Anita let out a small laugh. “We have decided to spend a month in one of his houses in the countryside. And maybe later on, when we have settled down, a trip somewhere in Europe, or why not the Americas.”
“Before you get pregnant then,” Ailia noted.
Maeve nodded, suddenly preoccupied. She knew she would eventually get pregnant — all their nocturnal activity would lead to it — but she wasn’t yet, and it might be better for now. She had had her monthly bleeding during her aunt’s visit, and despite that little incident shortly after, she knew she wasn’t likely to get pregnant before the wedding. But what of after?
She wanted children. Or rather, she wanted children with him . But she also wanted a few years of peace, only the two of them, before adding a new member to the family. Maybe if she asked him, he would agree to keep using French letters for a while, continuing to prevent the conception of a child. He’d mentioned other ways of making sure a woman wouldn’t be burdened with a child, so maybe they could opt for other ways if he’d rather avoid the use of condoms.
Was it selfish of her? What if he wanted children soon?
For the first time, she realized she hadn’t asked him for his opinion on the matter. He was so different from everyone else, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted children? And if he didn’t, how would they work it out? He had been relatively careful not to impregnate her, but it was mostly because she had asked it of him. So maybe he wasn’t opposed to the idea?
Another issue that kept bothering her was whether she should tell him about her true origins. The idea of starting their marriage with a lie bothered her immensely, and she didn’t want to trap him into a union he might have decided against if he knew all the facts. After all, he had the right to choose if he was willing to have a wife who was half-Gypsy. He needed to accept the impurity of her blood since she would pass it onto their children.
But the mere idea of telling him terrified her. The heavy secret had been held for nearly twenty years now, and the risk of letting him know went against everything she’d been taught. Her family, or the members of it who knew the situation, had been living with the fear of the truth coming into the light for years now. Her own parents had done everything they could to erase all traces of her mother’s complicated past, and aside from a handful of people, no one knew the Duchess of Leeds was, in fact, a born and raised Gypsy.
While she wasn’t sure how Lucian would react to the news, Maeve was rather certain he wouldn’t spread the information around. He wasn’t one for gossip; he loathed it, even. Even if he deemed her unacceptable to become his bride, she trusted he wouldn’t retaliate by revealing her most shameful secret to the world.
Looking at Ailia, Maeve wondered what decision had her sister taken regarding all this. Did Thomas know about their uncommon upbringing? Had Ailia felt compelled too to let her husband-to-be know the terrible truth?
Just as Maeve wished she could have found a moment to discuss it with her twin, Anita left them for a moment, needing to greet a friend of hers.
“ Binak , I need to talk to you,“ Maeve whispered in her sister’s ear, gently tugging her arm.
Sensing that something wasn’t right, Ailia nodded and let her pull her to the side until they were isolated in a small alcove. “Maeve, what is it?”
“I wanted to know… Did you— Did you tell Thomas about mom?”
“What do you mean? Like, about who she really is?” Maeve nodded, conflicted. “Dear Lord, no. We agreed never to let that secret out for the sake of the family. And regardless of that, I won’t ruin my chances at a happy marriage by confessing the truth.”
“So, you mean you never felt compelled to tell him?”
“No, never. What Thomas doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“Shouldn’t you want to share everything with him? And what of your children? Shouldn’t your fiancé have the right to know the kind of blood that would flow in their veins?”
“Where is this coming from?” Ailia asked, growing suspicious. “Are you considering telling Worthington?”
Maeve nodded, confused and lost. Deep in her heart, she knew it wasn’t right to trap Lucian like this, to not tell him the truth, to rob him of his choice. But at the same time, she could understand her sister’s reluctance. What if telling him meant it would end them? What if, upon learning she was half-Gypsy, Lucian decided she wasn’t worthy of him after all?
“Maeve, please. I beg of you. Do not tell him the truth. You know how dangerous it can be to let this secret out. Don’t ruin two decades of careful subterfuge over your infatuation for a man.”
“I haven’t decided to do it yet,” Maeve argued. “I’m only trying to figure out what is fair and right for everyone.”
“To hell with everyone! We have the right to be happy too, as much as every single person in this room.”
Maeve looked around the room at the people who were her peers. This world was so judgmental, so uptight, so concerned about lineage… Where Maeve’s mother came from shouldn’t matter, but to these people, it would be like the greatest of sin. If a duke couldn’t even marry a commoner, what of a Gypsy? Bohemians were viewed in such an awful manner, she didn’t even want to imagine what her family would go through.
But Lucian had never been like the rest of them, had he?
Her eyes were instinctively drawn to the man. As if summoned, his green gaze met hers across the room. Even now, he stood out from them all. And it wasn’t only due to his impressive height or his military stature. No, Lucian was different from everyone in this room because of the way he viewed the world. He didn’t even want to be here, didn’t want his titles, didn’t want the frivolousness that surrounded them. He despised so many things about their world, he certainly wouldn’t receive her secret as poorly as the rest of them.
“Maeve, I’m serious,” Ailia insisted, forcing her to look away from her fiancé. “Do not tell him anything. Don’t ruin this for the rest of us just because you believe you can trust him.”
“I don’t believe it. I know it.”
“ Binak , I swear to God! Nothing good can come out of this, trust me.“
Because she wasn’t answering right away, Ailia worried, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly. “Maeve, you must promise you won’t tell him anything.”
Torn, Maeve’s eyes went from Lucian to her twin, unsure what she should do. He had the right to know, but she didn’t want to be in another quarrel with her sister. They had just reconciled. She refused to go back to months of silent treatment.
“Alright, I won’t tell him a thing,” Maeve gave up, trying to ignore the heavy weight on her heart. It honestly didn’t feel right to hide such a thing from Lucian.
Ailia removed a pin from her hair and pushed it on the tip of her index, pressing until it pierced the skin. A small drop of blood gathered where she’d stung herself, and she looked at Maeve, holding the improvised needle mid-air. Maeve hesitated, knowing she wouldn’t ever be able to go back on her promise if they swore on it like this. It was the strongest agreement she had with her twin. A blood pact was unbreakable.
“Ailia, I don’t want to—”
“You have to, Maeve. You have to, or I’ll never trust you on this.”
With a sigh, Maeve forfeited, offering her finger to Ailia so she could draw blood there too. She flinched as the needle tore through her skin and then met her sister’s eyes.
“Swear you’ll never tell anything to Worthington about our secret,” Ailia demanded, holding her blood index up.
“I swear I won’t tell anything to Lucian about our secret,” Maeve repeated, each word adding to her distress.
Before she could change her mind, Ailia pressed her finger against hers, sealing the promise in the most potent of ways. When she removed her index, Ailia seemed much more confident than moments ago, knowing Maeve wouldn’t have a choice but to respect their agreement.
“Well, now that this is settled, I have to return to my friends,” she declared, contempt.
Maeve watched her go, hating the rancor she felt toward her twin. Truly, she felt wronged by Ailia, disliking how she’d forced her hand to accept such a terrible promise. As she stared at the bloody tip of her finger, Maeve regretted having allowed her twin to win so easily. As much as it concerned the whole family, it also happened to be a choice Maeve should be free to make.
With her unsoiled hand, she fetched her handkerchief in a hidden pocket of her dress to erase the traces of their bloody pact. When the tip remained red-ish, the blood already clotting, she brought it into her mouth, determined to make it disappear entirely. When she checked again, there wasn’t any red tint left, only the small puncture hole Ailia had pierced. A fresh drop of blood was already gathering there as if to prevent her from ignoring the pact she’d just made.
“Good evening, swan,” Lucian’s familiar voice said right from behind her.
Startled, she twisted around to look at him. His eyes dropped on her injured finger, and a slight frown bent his eyebrows as if the sight displeased him. Gentle, he sent his hand toward her and wiped away the crimson droplet with his thumb, before bringing the tip up to his lips. He graced the tiny wound with a delicate kiss, as if he could heal it that way.
The gesture was very intimate, so she looked around to make sure no one had witnessed it. But the alcove she’d isolated herself in to speak with Ailia was providing enough privacy to shield them from the guests.
Here, alone with him, she was convinced more than ever she shouldn’t have given into Ailia’s wishes. There was no way Lucian would ever do anything to hurt her. Not when he looked at her like this, with so much tenderness and devotion.
“How is my fiancée doing?” Lucian asked, his tone bone-meltingly seductive.
“Her bed is cold,” she answered, not resisting the need to tease him. As expected, his eyes turned dark, and he clenched his jaw slightly.
“Three weeks,” he reminded himself out loud.
Probably worried they’d be tempted to do something lewd, he took her arm and escorted her out of her hiding spot, back into the sea of people. As she looked around, her gaze stopped on Delawney.
“When are you telling him?” she asked Lucian. Following the direction of her gaze, he looked at his old friend too, and she heard him let out a sigh. “You know it will be worse if he finds out about it in the papers.”
On Monday, the news of their engagement would appear in the five most prominent newspapers of the city. This meant Lucian had less than three days to break the news to his old friend. She knew how hard it was for him and how worried he was about Delawney’s reaction. It was certain the man would take it poorly, but with time, he would forgive them both for what had happened.
Maeve was sorry to have briefly used him during her war against Lucian. It hadn’t been fair to the poor man, and she realized that now. But her world was made of flatteries and flirting, so at that time, she hadn’t thought it to be cruel. Especially since she’d never imagined she would end up marrying the man’s best friend. But now, she was aware of how much her behavior would worsen the situation.
“Lucian, my love, you need to tell him. Do it tonight, and I’ll be right there for you afterward if you need.”
He looked down at her, and she would have given anything to be able to offer him a reassuring embrace, to encourage him with a tender kiss. But because she couldn’t do any of that, she clutched his arm instead, trying to transfer some of her courage into the look they exchanged.
With a sigh, Lucian released her, squeezing her hand before letting her go entirely. She stood there, anxious, as she watched her fiancé head toward his ginger friend.
Yes, Delawney would be hurt at first, but eventually, he would forgive them. He didn’t seem like someone who held grudges, and he would have to see at some point that it couldn’t have been any other way. The attraction Maeve and Lucian had was the stuff of legends. They hadn’t had a choice.
【37】Endangered Friendship
Somehow, Lucian had entered battlefields feeling more serene than he was now. He’d dreaded talking to John ever since things had gotten serious between him and Maeve, delaying the moment he’d need to have that important discussion with his oldest friend.
But he was nearly out of time, and if he didn’t speak with him now, things would be even worse, as Maeve had pointed out. Out of respect for their friendship, Lucian couldn’t possibly let John discover about the engagement in the papers. It would be a blatant insult to the man, and he couldn’t bear the idea.
Aside from a few minor arguments, he and Delawney had never truly been angry at each other. Even after Lucian had told him he was going back to the war, John hadn’t been able to hold it against him for more than four days. This news, however, would most likely result in a much more extended feud.
After all, Delawney had been in pursuit of the woman for three months now, ever since the beginning of the season. Years actually, given that he’d cleverly mentioned Maeve to Lucian in letters under the false name of Jane, as he’d been slowly growing infatuated with her.
As he reached his friend, Lucian closed his eyes briefly, telling himself that whatever the outcome, it was worth it. She was worth it. Opening them again, he closed the short distance that separated him from his red-haired friend.
With a hand on Delawney’s shoulder, he gained the man’s attention from the discussion he was having. “John, I need to talk to you.”
Hearing how grave he sounded, John appeared worried and excused himself from his group. Without a word, Lucian led him away from the people and out to the gardens. It was ironic that they were back to this house, where he’d re-encountered Maeve three months ago, where everything had started.
As if led by an invisible force, Lucian walked to the very bench he’d spotted her in her yellow dress. John was still by his side, obviously confused by whatever was happening. After he’d made sure no one was out here with them, Lucian mustered his courage to face his friend. The poor man was properly worried now, and whatever scenarios were unfolding in his mind, Lucian knew he was still miles away from the painful truth.
“Tell me, Lucian. My imagination is running wild,” he demanded, pressing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am we’re only doing this now.”
“What is it? Has Napoleon escaped? Are you heading back to war with Wellington?”
“No, it’s none of that.” Taking a deep breath, Lucian passed a hand over his face, struggling to find his composure. “I’m getting married.”
Frozen with shock, John stared at him, speechless and unmoving for a few seconds. Then, his stunned face twisted into hilarity while a burst of irresistible laughter overtook him. With gritted teeth, Lucian waited for him to calm down. When the intense fit of laughter ended, John turned back to Lucian, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. “You idiot! You scared me like this for a stupid joke. Dear God, have you no mercy for my poor heart?”
Lucian’s jaw clenched further, realizing how ridiculous it sounded to his friend he could get married. That was rather vexing.
“I’m not kidding, John.”
“Sure, you just found a fiancée out of the blue.”
“I have been spending some time with her for a few months now.”
Seeing how sincere and serious Lucian was, Delawney seemed to realize he wasn’t joking, and his amused expression faded into a perplexed one. “Why am I hearing of this only now? You haven’t spoken to me about a woman in years, and suddenly you’re getting married? When is the wedding planned?”
“It will take place in the middle of August.”
“Of this year?” Lucian nodded. Flabbergasted, John shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the information. “Christ, it is in less than a month.”
“Three weeks, to be exact.”
“Damn, Lucian. You really are serious about this woman, uh?”
Lucian nodded again. “I wanted to ask you to be my best man, but I fear you might not accept.”
John gave him a confounded look, confused by what he meant. “Of course I will be your best man, you fool! If you, indeed, found a woman mad enough to marry you, I want to be in the first row when you two get bound to each other until death does you part.”
Lucian cringed, but John didn’t notice. His friend’s obliviousness was making it so much harder than he’d expected. He’d hoped that by now, John would have figured out what was going on. He’d hoped he would have guessed Maeve was the woman in question, since she was the only woman they had spoken about in the past months.
“So, who is the lucky bride?” John asked, a broad smile splitting his face in half.
Lucian waited, relenting to say it, knowing perfectly well that things would change forever between him and his best friend once the truth was out. And it would be out nevertheless, so he might as well break the news to him in the most decent manner.
“Maeve Langston,” Lucian finally admitted.
John stared at him, wordless, and Lucian braced for the accusations that would surely come. But his friend then smiled, entertained. “You took it too far. I could have kept believing you with anyone else, but now your joke is exposed, Lucian.”
Lucian groaned, displeased to have to force it into his friend’s mind. “Once again, I am not pulling your leg. Everything is already arranged. It will be announced in the newspaper on Monday, and then there’s an engagement dinner on Wednesday with close friends and family. You are invited, of course, although I don’t think you’ll want to be among us.”
It took John much too long to accept that Lucian was, in fact, speaking the truth. But slowly, his mood shifted as he realized his best friend was marrying the woman he fancied. “It can’t be. She told me she wasn’t ready to get married.”
“She told you what you needed to hear to let her go.”
Lucian felt his heart tighten as he saw his best friend come to the conclusion that he was telling the truth. John’s confusion shifted toward anger, and he was now looking at Lucian loathsomely. There it was. The anger he’d feared, the one he’d so rarely seen in John’s eyes, and never aimed at him. Not like this.
“You fucking hypocrite! How many times have you told me the woman wasn’t worth marrying? How many times have you tried to steer me away from her, arguing it was for my own sake? This whole time, you were coveting her for yourself!”
It was hard not to be hurt by John’s words, but Lucian reminded himself that it was only normal he’d react like this. He deserved John’s wrath, and John deserved to lay it on him.
“She wasn’t a good fit for you, John. And regardless of the way my sentiments toward her evolved, I maintain it would have been a terrible union.”
“But she’s a good fit for you? You two can’t even stand being in the same room.”
“Things changed over time. We realized we had more in common than met the eye.”
Fuming, John paced in front of him, his steps aggressive, his glare murderous. “I introduced you to her!” he exploded, pointing a threatening finger toward Lucian. “You knew how I felt. You stole her from me!”
“She was never yours to begin with, my friend.” With a calm voice, Lucian was trying his best to appease his scorned friend, hoping this discord wouldn’t be the end of their friendship.
“How could you have done this to me?”
“I didn’t plan on it. It happened,” Lucian explained, watching his friend go back and forth.
John abruptly stopped and turned to him. “Did you have sex with her?” Lucian didn’t respond, but the guilt plastered on his face seemed eloquent enough. “When?” John insisted, a disgusted expression distorting his features.
“It started when I came back from Waterloo.”
“A month? An entire month! You two were probably quite amused by how pathetic I must have seemed.”
“We never made fun of you,” Lucian promised.
“You took me for a fucking fool for a whole month!”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“No? But you lied to me!”
“We lied to everyone.” It didn’t seem to calm John, and the man gave him a deadly glare.
“Of all the women on this goddamn island, you had to choose this one?”
“Trust me when I say I would have preferred this to happen with any other woman.” Lucian sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I tried to resist. I tried not to let it happen, for your sake, for our friendship. I didn’t choose this, John.”
“You didn’t choose to marry her?”
“I didn’t choose to fall in love with her.”
“Maybe not, but you chose to pursue her while knowing I had my eye on her. For nearly three years now, I’ve written letters to you about her. For months you’ve been coming with me to those parties, knowing perfectly well I was there for her. How could you do this to me, Lucian? You knew I loved her.”
“You don’t love her, John.”
“Of course I do. How could you know my own feelings better than me?”
“Because if any man had come to tell me she was marrying him instead of me, I would have already gouged his eyeballs out.”
“So I have to jump you to prove my affection for her? This is ridiculous!” John erupted, his anger taking over again.
Prompted by what had just been said, he clenched his fist and swung it at Lucian. Fighting the reflex to move away, the latter let the hit land on his jaw, almost welcoming the pain that followed the blow. He’d deserved that one and ten more.
With a hand on his jaw, Lucian stretched it around, trying to make the pain go away. When he looked at John again, he witnessed the hurt in his best friend’s eyes.
John’s anger was gone, replaced by misery and ache. Somehow, Lucian preferred when he’d been yelling, hating to see him so gutted. Nearly his whole life, Lucian had done everything he could to protect John from harm, first from bullies, mocking peers, bookkeepers… and more recently with Maeve. But this time, he was the one inflicting this tremendous amount of pain on him, and it was a terrible sight.
“John, I won’t apologize for the outcome because marrying her will be the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I’m deeply sorry for putting you through all this.”
John didn’t answer, offering him one last loathing glare before turning around. Lucian watched, helpless, as his oldest friend disappeared on the small path, swallowed by the night.
Pain was still blooming from his jaw, as a reminder of the one he’d inflicted on John. His friend wasn’t violent; he resented war for exactly that reason. Lucian had seen him take a swing at people twice in all their years together, and that was counting this blow.
Guilt overwhelmed him; so much of it.
In his pursuit of Maeve, he’d been monstrously selfish. He’d done wrong by both John and her, too preoccupied and conflicted by his growing feelings for the young woman. Had he been a better man, he would have handled it all in a better manner. He would have courted her in due form, would have told John he himself had his eye on her, and would have been honest and clear to everyone.
Realizing how conceited he’d been all along, Lucian felt a great shame overtake him. He’d always thought himself to be a virtuous man, but somehow, he’d been an absolute bastard during this entire endeavor. He didn’t deserve her affection, and he didn’t deserve John’s forgiveness either.
He remained standing there for a moment, reflecting on his actions, wondering how he could make up for his shameful behavior. A light ruffle to his left shook him out of his thoughts, and when he turned, he instantly recognized Maeve’s slender figure, coming from the same path John had taken minutes ago.
She came closer until she stood a few feet away from him, her hands anxiously twitching in front of her. “I… I saw John on my way here. From the look he gave me, I assume it didn’t go well,” she said, her voice small.
“I’d say it went as well as it could have. I told him everything, he listened, we argued, and then he punched me before storming off.”
“He punched you?” Worried, she came closer to Lucian, making him turn his face toward the moonlight.
There must have been a redness lingering on his jaw, because she found the spot and gently grazed it with the tip of her fingers. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this. I know how much your friendship matters. If only I hadn’t acted so foolishly, he wouldn’t have been so angry at you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Maeve. I’m the one who messed up. John’s been smitten with you for years now. I should have handled all this in a better way.”
“Years? I’m so sorry, I never intended to—”
“It’s all right, darling. Once again, it wasn’t your fault.”
Holding her by the waist, he pulled her closer to him, reminding himself that she was worth everything that had happened with John. Of course, he hoped their friendship would recover from this, but regardless of the outcome, having Maeve was all that mattered.
“He will forgive me, eventually. He needs time, that’s all.”
“What if he doesn’t?” she worried.
“Maeve, there is nothing in this entire world that could make me regret marrying you. Not a damned thing, not now, not ever.”
A plethora of conflicted feelings passed on her face, and Lucian wondered if he’d said something wrong. Was she having doubts of her own? Did she want to go back on her promise and cancel the wedding?
He didn’t have more time to worry about whatever was happening to her as she finally spoke, her voice so thin he barely heard it. “Lucian, I need to tell you something.”
Clearing her throat, she forced herself to look up at him, and the seriousness in her eyes alarmed him.
“There’s something you need to know about me.”
【38】Shocking Revelations
Because her legs were weak with anxiousness, Maeve made her way to the bench, avoiding Lucian’s inquisitive gaze.
After what he’d just told her, she had to tell him her heavy secret. If truly nothing could ever make him regret marrying her, he wouldn’t change his mind upon hearing what she had to say. For her own conscience, for her peace of mind, she refused to start their married life with this lie between them.
Although she was relatively confident Lucian would take it well, she couldn’t help but feel terrible about breaking the promise she’d just made to Ailia. Blood pacts were sacred between them, and Maeve had never broken one before. The fact that Ailia had been the first one to break one was somehow reassuring to Maeve. Since her sister had changed her mind about going to live in Dorset together, to get a husband instead, it was only fair Maeve would also break a pact. It would make them even.
She sat on the wooden bench, the one he’d found her in almost exactly three months ago, and he joined her. Angled toward her, Lucian took her trembling hands in his steady, warm ones, and bent to catch her evasive gaze with his.
“Maeve, what is going on? Is there anything wrong?” She shook her head, swallowing away the lump caught in her throat. “Is it about the wedding? Have you changed your mind?”
“No, never. I still very much want to marry you.”
She could see how reassured he was by her answer, and it made her feel bad for letting him worry so much. Letting go of one of her hands, he gently pressed his index under her chin, forcing her head up.
“What is it, darling? Tell me.”
“I’m so sorry, Lucian. I should have spoken to you about this earlier. Before you talked with Delawney, before you made your official demand for my hand to my father.” Now, he seemed properly worried, his green eyes exuding confusion and doubt. “I’ve never… I’ve never told anyone this. Aside from some members of my family and a handful of people, no one has ever been privy to this information. Even Anita doesn’t know. I need your word that you won’t speak of it to anyone.”
Lucian took a few seconds to register her words, grasping the severity of the moment. “I won’t, I promise,” he eventually agreed. Maeve could see how much he meant it, hear the honesty in his voice.
A trembling breath later, she forced herself to look him in the eye. “It concerns my birth and my parents.”
Before she could continue, she noticed the intense reflection going on in Lucian’s mind. She could practically hear the gears running in his skull, and when he spoke, what he said made her breath catch in her throat.
“The duke is your natural father.”
Stunned, Maeve stared at him with round eyes, wondering how on earth he’d guessed something no one else had before. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Not until now, at least. But I’ve spotted the resemblance. You have his eyes.”
She nodded, still amazed he could have noticed. He was a rather perceptive man, so it shouldn’t have shocked her. But still, knowing that one more person knew of her secret was disturbing.
“Is this what you were worried about? I don’t see how you having blood bluer than expected is anything bad,” Lucian said.
Wincing, Maeve offered him an embarrassed look. “Well, I was five when my parents got married.”
Unphased, he nodded as if he’d already made the calculations and reached that conclusion. With a shrug, he dismissed the whole thing like it didn’t matter one bit. “You and your sister aren’t the first bastard children of an aristocrat, you know.”
“I know. But while the matter is quite dishonorable, it isn’t the main issue.”
“What is it then?”
“Twenty-five years ago, my father was spending his summer in the family’s estate near Leeds. That’s when he encountered Mother. She was… from the Romani camp, not far from the Langston manor.”
Maeve paused, unable to keep talking, the knot in her throat so tight it was aching painfully. While learning that the duke was her actual father hadn’t shocked Lucian all that much, this seemed to take him entirely by surprise. He remained silent for a moment, trying to grasp what her confession revealed.
“So, your mother isn’t from Spanish aristocracy, but a bohemian?” he asked, the crease between his brows deepening.
Maeve nodded, silently praying this wouldn’t turn out to be a deal-breaker. “I’m half Gypsy, like all of my siblings. It’s a secret we’ve kept for almost twenty years now. But I had to tell you, Lucian. You had to know the truth because my blood will taint our children’s. I can live with that, but you have to decide if you can too.”
She waited as Lucian considered everything, her heart growing heavier with each second that passed. She’d hoped he would tell her none of it mattered, that he still wanted to marry her regardless of her origins, but he didn’t. Instead, he remained painfully silent, his eyes lowered somewhere between them, lost in his thoughts.
That was it. He wouldn’t want to marry her anymore. Ailia had been right. Maeve shouldn’t have told him the truth. She should have kept her mouth shut and entertained the pretense. Why had her conscience decided to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to her?
A surge of tears filled her eyes, some of them spilling over to roll down her cheeks. Her breathing became shorter, her lungs struggling to expand. A numbing dizziness took over her mind as the extent of her mistake dawned on her. Despite recognizing the signs of a panic attack, she couldn’t fight it, overtaken by too many thoughts and regrets.
She would lose him because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for just a little longer. Removing her hand from his distracted grasp, she sent it to her mouth to muffle the choking sob that made her frame shake. Why must she have said anything?
Lucian was shaken out of his apathy when he noticed she was crying, and his perturbed frown turned regretful. It was more than she could handle, so she closed her eyes as another sob overtook her.
“I’m so sorry. I should have told you before. You may have lost your best friend because of me, and it was all for nothing.”
To her surprise, Lucian’s strong and familiar hand reached for her neck. As she opened her eyes again, she found his face inches from her, an instant before he pressed his forehead against hers. Like he’d done all these weeks ago — after he’d won that race — his hand slowly massaged her neck, attempting to soothe her, to chase away her overpowering panic.
“Darling, calm down. I really don’t care where your mother comes from. It doesn’t change anything.”
A glimmer of hope made its way through the foggy despair she was under, and she clung onto it as she stared into his green eyes. “Really? You really don’t mind.”
“Not one bit. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I don’t consider myself better than anyone else just because I was born the son of a baron. Blood isn’t what makes us; our actions are. When I was in the Peninsula, the bravest, most courageous men I’ve encountered were often from the lowest casts. I have nothing but contempt for those idle idiots in there,” he explained, gesturing toward the house where all the guests were enjoying a lavish evening of luxury. “Regardless of what flows in your veins, Maeve, you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve encountered in my entire life. Nothing can change my mind about that. I’m not marrying you for your pedigree. That’s honestly the last thing I care about. I’m marrying you for everything that you are.”
Maeve’s worries were entirely gone, his powerful declaration chasing away all the doubts she’d been crumbling under. Somehow, a new series of sobs still erupted from her, but this time, it was out of utter relief.
“Darling, don’t cry, you know it breaks my heart,” Lucian whispered, kissing her temple tenderly and holding her into his comforting embrace.
“I love you so much,” she declared between two sobs. “I was so worried you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“That’s ridiculous, swan. You’d need something a hundred times worse to make it happen. Do you have that in store?”
Giggling, she shook her head. She’d truly thought this was the worst possible thing, but Lucian apparently couldn’t care less.
Ever so tender, he pulled away from her to gaze at her flushed face lovingly. With a careful hand, he wiped away the traces of her distraught, leaving her as proper as before, except for the redness on the tip of her nose and cheeks.
“You seemed so shocked… I really thought it meant you found it unacceptable.”
“No, not at all. I was thinking of how hard this must have been on your family. I’ve noticed your parents were rather unique, but I never could have guessed it could be because of that.”
“Yes, it’s been a great burden on all of us. If people were to learn the truth, it would ruin us.”
“I can only imagine… How did that happen? How does a duke end up marrying a Gypsy?”
“It’s a long story,” Maeve explained with a grimace.
“I’ve got a moment if you do.”
Deciding on full transparency, she nodded and changed her position, so she could rest her head on his shoulder, gazing at the moon above them. In their little oasis of peace, hidden in the vegetation, she recounted to him her parents’ impossible love story. He listened, drinking her words, sometimes asking a question. When she was done, there was a moment of silence, with only the sounds of the night resonating around them.
“We should go back,” Lucian eventually said. Maeve held tighter onto his arm, refusing to let go. Her reluctance made him chuckle softly, and he kissed the top of her head. “Come on, swan. It would be a shame to cause a scandal when we’re so close to being married.”
“Three weeks is such a long time.”
“It’ll pass in a blink, I promise.”
Maeve pouted, disliking how rational he was being. He was right, of course, but she was already missing their illicit arrangement terribly. It was insane to think she’d lived for over twenty-four years deprived of sex, and now she could hardly see herself last three weeks without it.
He’d made a wanton woman out of her, and the task of satisfying these new cravings fell onto him.
“I want to spend the night with you,” she whispered, twisting her neck so she could press her opened lips on the warm skin of his throat, right above his shirt’s collar.
“Maeve, we agreed on waiting.”
Despite his firm tone, she sensed how he tensed next to her. With a defying smile, she shifted so she could be closer to him, clasping his nape with a hand and lifting a leg to set it over his, her knee between his parted ones. Another kiss was dropped on his neatly shaven skin, and she didn’t hesitate to graze it with her tongue first, knowing how much he enjoyed it when she explored him like so.
A strong hand reached for her leg, its grip tight, like a warning. It wasn’t enough to make her give up on her enterprise, though, and she nibbled on the lobe of Lucian’s ear, before gently sucking on it.
“If you visit me tonight, I promise, I’ll behave for the rest of the three weeks,” she offered, hoping it would be enough to get him to indulge her demands.
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe…”
His voice was so low, it was practically a growl. The hand on her thigh was clenching the flesh almost painfully. Certain she’d win this one, Maeve let her fingers slide down his muscular chest, wishing it was deprived of his evening suit. Bold, she cupped the bulge at his crotch with determination. He grunted a curse as his own hand flew to reach hers, but instead of removing it, he imperceptibly pressed her palm harder onto him.
“Please, Lucian… I’m leaving for Leeds in under a week for the wedding’s preparations. We won’t see each other for so long. I’ll miss you so much.”
“Fucking Hell, Maeve… You were the one who insisted we should be reasonable.”
“I’m changing my mind.”
Letting go of the hardening flesh at his crotch, she seized his jaw and forced him to turn toward her. Daring, she pressed her lips on his, using his stupor to slip her tongue past his lips, to graze his own. He groaned something, the low vibration tickling her tongue, and gave in to her offensive charge.
They kissed for endless minutes, devouring each other, clutching and pulling on the fine fabrics of their clothes in a desperate attempt to get more. Proving once again that he was the most reasonable of the two, Lucian pulled away first, his heavy breath and reddened face betraying the level of arousal he was under.
“Alright, you win,” he forfeited, a lopsided grin bending his lips. “I’ll come and visit you tonight. But it will be the last time until the wedding, Maeve.”
“Then we’ll make it worthwhile.”
Delighted to have won this battle, she distanced herself from him, ready to go back into the house and ask her parents if they could leave the party. The sooner she was home, the sooner Lucian would sneak in through her window.
“Have fun getting rid of that one,” she teased, pressing one last kiss on his cheek and gently grazing the bumpy front of his trousers.
He chuckled and shook his head, offering her a dangerous gaze. Surely, he’d find a way to make her pay for her provocations, but as long as he did that in the safe confines of her bed, she truly didn’t mind.
With a dreamy smile lingering on her face, Maeve made her way back to her family. At the thought of Ailia, her elated mood sank slightly. In her heart, she knew she’d done the right thing by telling Lucian the truth about her origins. If she ever found out, her twin would find it in her heart to forgive her.
After all, Ailia had broken a blood pact first, and Maeve had forgiven it.
If you guys somehow haven’t read the prequel to this book, The Prince and the Spitfire , you really should! It’s about Maeve’s parents, so you already have a glimpse at how complicated their romance was. Amaila and Aiden’s story is full of twists, angst, humor, heat, and wholesome moments. Also, Ailia and Maeve were downright adorable as kids!
Also, it features a lot of classical music, so it’s a great way to discover some new pieces ;)
【39】Drunken Assumptions
Leaving Maeve was harder than it should have been, but Lucian did so knowing they would be married soon enough. With one last glance behind, he observed the shape of her as she slept soundly, exhausted by the appetite they had both shown.
For the last time, hopefully, he hauled himself out of the window, ignoring the pain in his knee. As much as he wanted to linger here with her, he had a pressing matter that needed his attention.
John was one of the most important persons in his life, and he couldn’t bear the mess they were in. They’d always been close like brothers, and even though he wouldn’t ever let go of Maeve, he still felt the need to fix things with his oldest companion. Once he was out of the park and into the street, he walked to a more lively area, in the hope he’d find a coach to hail.
About an hour after he’d left Maeve’s comfortable embrace, Lucian entered the Emporium, a very selective club he and John frequented together. Since he wasn’t at his terrace, which Lucian had discovered after heading there first, the scorned friend was most likely to be here, gambling away some of his inheritance. If he wasn’t, Lucian had a few other addresses he would check.
Someone took his coat and hat in the main hall, and Lucian quickly went to the card room with long and hasty strides, well-aware of John’s affinities with whist. The elegant room was clouded with a thin veil of smoke from the many cigars of the gentlemen present. Lucian scanned the tables, dismissing a footman when he came to ask what drink he wanted.
There . Delawney was right there, with Ackley and a few others. Lucian didn’t waste a second going to him, internally trying to find what words would help repair the damage his inconsiderate actions had created.
As much as he wanted to believe John would forgive him, he was aware that, had the roles been reversed, he wouldn’t have been able to remain friends with John. Had John taken Maeve away from him, Lucian wouldn’t have maintained their relationship. Seeing him with Maeve as a wife was too great of a price. But he was in love with the woman, and John wasn’t.
Since he arrived from behind, Delawney didn’t see him approach. But when Lucian laid a hand on his shoulder, and when the red-haired man looked up, the surprise in his eyes quickly turned into hatred.
“I need a moment of your time,” Lucian said, hoping John would behave, given they had an audience.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for you. As you can see, I’m otherwise engaged in a game of whist.”
“John, please.”
The other players gave them suspicious looks, and John tensed in his chair. “Alright. My hand was terrible, anyway.” After he’d thrown his cards on the table face down, he rose from his chair.
Lucian guided him to a more discreet area and hesitated about what to say first. “John, I can’t even begin to—”
“Save it, Thorne. There’s nothing you could say that could salvage any of it.”
“You need to be reasonable for a moment. I messed up, I know I did, but I refuse to lose our friendship over my lack of tact.”
“The solution is simple. Don’t marry the woman I wanted as my wife. The one I introduced you to, the one you knew I had my eyes on.”
“I can’t do that. I’ll do everything but that.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
Lucian was irritated by John’s behavior, but he reminded himself that all this was his fault. Had he handled it all better from the start, none of this would have been happening. Also, he could smell the alcohol on his breath, and John was never the most sensible of men with a few drinks in him.
“John, you’re being unreasonable.”
“And you’re being a bloody bastard. I can’t believe you’d betray me like this, that you’d lie to me for months. We’ve always had each other’s back, always protected one another. And now you’ve ruined it all for a woman.”
“And that’s why I know you’re not in love with her,” Lucian felt compelled to point out. “Because Maeve is worth all the heartaches in the world. She’s worth everything .”
“Then have her, and get over not having me as well,” John coldly replied, moving to return to his table.
With a firm grip, Lucian grabbed his arm to stop him. “Please, don’t—”
“Let go of me, Lucian. This is a battle you cannot win.”
They exchanged a long, defying look, and Lucian was forced to let go of him when he read just how hopeless his endeavor was. Their bond was broken beyond repair. At least it was for now. Only time would tell if their friendship could be salvaged in the end.
As John returned to his table, Lucian looked around with uneasiness. Some form of grief settled within him, as it slowly sunk in his mind that John Delawney might not be a part of his future any longer. After so many years together, the very person he’d vouched to defend was walking out of his life, because he’d failed at protecting him.
The urge to drink suddenly became unshakable, and Lucian considered heading to the darker rooms of the club, to drown himself in whisky. But the mere idea of staying here, with John and everyone else, didn’t sit well with him. So instead, he headed to the main hall again, took his coat and hat a footman had fetched him, and exited the luxurious building to head into the streets. He walked for a moment, until he wasn’t in such a respectable part of town anymore, and entered a lively pub.
The smell of cheap tobacco, booze, and sweat assaulted his nostrils as soon as he passed the double doors, but he ignored it to go sit at one of the few free tables. The clientele was mostly men, aside from a waitress and a couple of ladies of the night trying to find some clients among the inebriated patrons. The waitress came first, and he asked for a bottle of her best whisky, still suspecting it wouldn’t be up to his standards.
While she left, Lucian realized just how terribly contemptuous he was. A few months among his peers and the smell of sweat disturbed him, and he worried about the quality of the alcohol. His time in Spain was long gone, and he was becoming like all those other imbeciles he loathed with great intensity. Surely, it would get even worse when he’d become a marquess.
But it was worth it. She was worth it.
His mind drifted back to Maeve, and he tried to imagine what a life with her would look like. They would argue – probably quite often. But they’d always find a compromise and forgive each other. The woman was like wildfire, and not a single day would be dull with her by his side. It was certain that even in twenty years, she’d still manage to surprise him, keeping him on his toes. That would maintain the flames between them and would ensure their passion would never die.
More than anything, he longed for that life with her, for those arguments she’d throw, for the evolution of their illicit affair into a loving marriage. She would be his equal in many ways, and he now realized just how dull it must be to marry a woman inferior to him in wit, feist, and character. Maeve had more of these than he did, and he adored her for it.
The bottle arrived, along with a glass that could use another wash, and Lucian unsealed the cap as the waitress walked to another table that was demanding her attention.
He poured himself a generous dose of it and downed it in one go. The liquid burned his throat all the way to his stomach, and he welcomed its numbing warmth. As suspected, it wasn’t very good. But it was still better than some of the whiskies he’d had in the Peninsula. The second glass knew the same fate, a little slower, and then he filled it once more, intending to sip on it this time.
If only John could see how Lucian didn’t have a choice. He’d tried, he’d really tried to resist the woman. But even with his military restraint and strength of mind, Maeve had posed an unwinnable challenge. It was a shame that their life together had to start with the loss of his only real friend.
The third glass was over much too quickly, but he didn’t hesitate to pour himself the fourth one. He was just done when one of the prostitutes, a blonde with blue eyes, generous breasts that seemed about to slip out of her deep cleavage, and an unpleasant aroma of cheap rose perfume, came to sit on his lap.
“Hi there, m’lord,” she greeted him, her Cockney accent impossible to miss. He tried to push her away from his lap, but the godless woman resisted. “Whot got ye lookin’ so sad, gove’nah?”
Lucian didn’t answer, drinking more whisky instead. “Is it a woman who got ye so worked up? Ye’re in luck, then. I been told I got a magic fanny. Three minutes in it, and ye’ll forget all about yer lass.”
“I’d rather not forget about the woman I’m marrying, thank you very much. Also, just three minutes?”
“Doesn’t take them much longah. I told ye issa magic fanny.”
“Go offer it to someone else, woman. I’m not interested.”
“Ye look clean, so I wouldn’t even charge ye extra for the scar,” she insisted, sliding a finger with a chipped nail over the dented marking on his brow.
Lucian swiftly pushed her hand away, growing tired of her insistence. “You’re wasting your time here. I’m a very satisfied man who doesn’t need your services.”
It still wasn’t enough of an argument, though, and as she slipped her hand over his chest, Lucian tensed. The alcohol was slowly blurring his mind, but not enough for that . He caught her wrist firmly, and pulled it out of his jacket, glimpsing down at the pouch she’d adroitly nicked. “I’ll keep that,” he declared, taking his money back from her. “Now leave. Go find some poor bastard who’d like his turn with the ‘magic fanny’.”
His leniency wasn’t received with gratitude, and she glared at him with annoyance before finally complying. Lucian couldn’t even blame her for trying to rob him, well-aware of the miserable life she must have. With his glass in hand, he watched as she went to another man, who this time welcomed her on his lap with enthusiasm.
“Ye gotta forgive Sally,” a man with a strong Irish accent said to his right. “She’s got two snotty-nosed kids at home. I always give her a few extra pennies when we give it a go. She’s a good girl born in a bad world.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to her for trying to steal from me.”
“Ye should give her a chance, though. The lassie ain’t lying. Her cunt is tighter than any other whore you’ll see for a mile around.”
“As I’ve said, my needs are already cared for,” Lucian groaned, finishing his glass.
What was it now, the fourth one? A good portion of the bottle was gone already, and he wondered if he should pace himself. The bad whisky didn’t even burn anymore, his senses already duller.
“Ye don’t look like a satisfied man. Is it that girl ye’re set on marrying that’s causing yer trouble?”
Lucian turned to the man who’d spoken, wondering why he couldn’t just be left in peace. This had been a mistake. He should have gone home and drunk there, where no one would have bothered him like this.
“It’s the circumstances that are bothering me, not the woman,” Lucian answered nevertheless, hoping his dismissive tone would stop the stranger from asking more questions.
It did the opposite, and the man came to sit in front of him, stumbling and nearly falling as he did. Lucian wasn’t even sure he’d be that drunk if he had the whole bottle to himself.
“Ye know, they say it helps to talk about yer problems. If ye want, ye can tell me everything, and in exchange, ye keep me glass full.”
As improbable as it was, Lucian considered the offer. Not much about the talking aspect of the stranger’s proposition, but about sharing the bottle. It wouldn’t be reasonable for him to finish it on his own, as he had matters that needed his attention the next day. He hadn’t suffered from a hangover in a decade, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to see how his body would handle one now.
“Fine, have some,” he agreed, pouring himself his fifth one.
The man bent toward his table, still sitting on his chair, grabbed the glass he’d left behind, and filled it to the rim. Alright, that ought to knock the stranger into next week.
“So, tell me,” the Irish asked after he’d drunk some of his whisky. “What are the circumstances that are ruining yer life?”
Although he hadn’t intended on talking at all, Lucian felt compelled to share some of his sorrows with the stranger. The man was too drunk to remember anything from the morning regardless, and Lucian would keep the names out of it. “My best friend is smitten with the woman I’m marrying. Actually, he was coveting her before I’d ever set eyes on her.”
“Oh, so ye stole yer best mate’s sweetheart?”
“No, not exactly. I fell in love with the woman he thought would be a good fit for him – which she isn’t – and she fell in love with me too.”
“Ah, so it’s a love matter. I remember the woman I loved. That slag married some merchant instead. Me wife wasn’t me first choice, but she gave me three strong boys and only one piddling girl. So I think I made the right decision.”
“I’m not changing my mind about the woman. I’m only annoyed that I’m losing a man who might as well be my brother in this matter.”
“Is the bure worth losing a brother?”
“She is.”
“So she’s pleasant on the eye?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, actually.”
“Ye look like ye’ve seen lots of beautiful women in yer life.”
“I have.” Lucian wasn’t sure why, but it was indeed good to confide in someone. Letting out his worries, laying his issues on this stranger was helping alleviate the weight on his shoulders. “She’s so much more than her looks,” he continued. “She’s a complicated woman, in an even more complicated family.”
“How so?”
As he looked at the Irish man, with his red face, his inability to focus his gaze, his frame leaning to the side that he couldn’t keep straight, Lucian realized he’d found the perfect confidant. There was no way anything he’d say would ever be remembered, and the man wouldn’t even know where to start looking if he found an interest in the story, since he had no names.
If it could help feel better and get rid of the ache that lingered in his heart, he might as well speak more, and tell the man the whole story. It would be the same as talking to a wall, but the wall would talk back and offer sparse advice – although Lucian doubted the man’s words would be relevant.
Maybe five glasses were too much for this. They seemed to have knocked out Lucian’s good sense, because talking about all this, sharing Maeve’s secret, didn’t seem like the most ludicrous of ideas. It still didn’t feel right, though, so he pondered on the question some more.
Even though his glass was still half full, the man poured more amber liquid into it, filling it again. A good splash of it ended on the table as he pulled the bottle up, and the man cursed in what must have been Gaelic. When the Irish man bent to sip on the alcohol he’d over-served, too far gone to even mind that the table was suspiciously sticky, or that its wood had a dark tint that wasn’t supposed to be there, Lucian’s stomach did a twist.
Alright, this man might not even be alive in the morning. Anything he might tell him would be safely guarded, altered by the preposterous amount of alcohol the man had ingested.
As he decided to talk, Lucian could still perceive the twinge of guilt, the part of him that told him this wasn’t right. But what if it could help with the pain of losing John? It was unfair that he’d have to choose between the two people he loved the most.
Dismissing his concerns, he opened his mouth, eager to feel better. The glasses he’d drunk had loosened his tongue. He’d deal with his guilt in the morning, he thought to himself.
【40】Foolish Girl
Even hours after Lucian had left, his scent lingered on Maeve’s sheets. Upon waking up on Saturday, she pushed her face into the pillow he’d used, inhaling his familiar smell deep into her lungs. That didn’t fail to instantly put her in a splendid mood.
Stretching her sore limbs, she grinned at the ceiling, images of their intense night filling her mind. Even though he’d left relatively early, right before midnight, they’d taken as much as they could physically endure to compensate for the upcoming weeks. Being deprived of him entirely would be hard, but knowing they’d be married soon made up for it handsomely.
Gauging the intensity of the light in her room, Maeve tried to guess what time it was. It wouldn’t surprise her to learn it was already past noon, since the day seemed well-advanced. Thankfully, no one bothered her in the mornings anymore, especially following an evening out. Ailia might have been a morning person, but Maeve wasn’t, and more than once had she made it known.
Adamant to linger into the Lucian-scented sheets, she rolled on her stomach, relenting to get out of bed. Her body was still highly aware of his lewd ministrations, her skin tingling as if still under his touch, the tips of her breasts sensitive and needy, and that spot between her legs tender. The ghost of him was everywhere on her, and she was certain she’d be reminded of him every time she sat — the entire day and maybe the day after, too. Unsparing, he’d given her everything she’d asked for and more, his stamina astonishing as usual.
Outside in the hallway, she heard a commotion. Although she’d gladly spend the day in bed to recuperate from Lucian’s attentions, it reminded her there was much to be done. In five days, the whole family was leaving the London terrasse to travel back to Leeds. After the engagement’s announcement on Monday in the newspapers, it was certain they would receive many calls from acquaintances and friends, so there wouldn’t be much time for packing then.
Her limbs ached when she rolled out of bed, exposing her bare body to the air of the room. She was growing increasingly comfortable in her nudity, despite over twenty-four years of clinging with fierceness to her modesty. Lucian was devilishly good at making all her inhibitions lower.
More ruckus came from outside, so she covered herself with her dressing gown before someone decided to storm in. She was just done doing the last button when the door flung open.
Startled, she turned to the invasive newcomer, ready to sermon whoever it was about manners. As she saw Ailia’s enraged expression, she recoiled, wondering what on earth was happening.
Her twin made her way toward Maeve, clenching a newspaper in her angry fist, and their mother entered the room as well, alarmed.
“How could you do this?!” Ailia shouted, throwing the crumpled paper at her.
Appalled, Maeve swung her arm to intercept the projectile’s course, sending it toward the floor instead. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You promised, Maeve! You promised you wouldn’t tell him!”
“What— What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Yesterday you told me you wanted to let him know the truth, and today it’s all over the news. You did this! You ruined our family! You ruined my life!”
A sense of pure dread invaded Maeve’s mind. A part of her was already understanding what her twin was saying, even though her mind couldn’t accept it yet. This was impossible. What was she talking about?
Looking down at the paper on the floor, Maeve’s heart dropped low into her chest as she read the title on the front page of it. The little air that remained in her lungs was expelled at once at the dreadful words imprinted there. The Scandalous Truth Behind the Duke of Leeds’ Family.
No. This wasn’t possible. No one knew, no one had ever spoken. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be real. She was dreaming. She must have been.
The loud thumping of her heart was hammering into her ears, muffling any other sound. Ailia was spewing more accusations toward her, and their mother was holding Maeve’s shoulders, saying something as well. Eventually, the soothing voice of her mother brought her back, and she could make out the question she’d been repeating.
“Maeve, angel, did you tell the truth to Worthington?”
“I— Yes, but it’s not him. It can’t be him. Mama, I swear it’s not. He wouldn’t do this.”
“Who else could it be, then?” Ailia interrupted with sarcasm.
“Ailia, calm down,” their mother intervened. “Maeve, darling, why would you even tell him?”
“I could not lie to him. Not about this. He had the right to know before it was too late.”
“Oh, you foolish girl…” In her mother’s eyes, she detected understanding, but also some guilt. After all, Maeve and her siblings were innocent in this matter. They were the unwilling victims of their parents’ reprehensible behavior.
“But he was fine with it, it didn’t bother him. I’m telling you, this isn’t coming from him,” Maeve insisted, pointing at the journal on the floor.
“This is too big of a coincidence,” Ailia insisted. “No one has spoken in nearly two decades, and hours after you run your tongue, everyone learns of it?”
“He loves me. He wouldn’t do this to me!”
“Are you certain he loves you?”
Ailia’s question shouldn’t have made Maeve doubt so much. Lucian had shown he loved her in so many ways. She was certain his feelings matched hers. But he’d never actually professed more than tender affections, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t read into it too much. What if he wasn’t actually in love, but only infatuated?
He should have told her by now. He’d had countless opportunities to do it. They’d been intimate for a month, they were to marry, she’d said it several times… Lucian truly would have told her by now if he was, indeed, in love with her.
Glimpsing at the paper on the floor, its black letters tormenting her, Maeve’s thoughts spiraled. What if he’d told anyone what she’d confessed to him? He would hardly go to the publisher himself, but what if he’d told someone?
Upon leaving during the night, he’d told her he wanted to find Delawney, arguing he couldn’t leave things like this between them. Had he told his friend the truth about her, maybe in an attempt to lessen the blow? John didn’t seem like someone who would expose such a secret, but given how hurt he’d been, he might have, as a way to retaliate.
Maeve’s head spun from the conflicting thoughts overtaking her mind. Ailia was right. The coincidence was too staggering. Somehow, revealing their secret to Lucian had caused this. She’d ruined her family’s reputation. Destroyed her siblings’ chances at a happy life.
She’d done this.
Devastated by the thought, Maeve’s limbs gave up, as if under tremendous pressure. She barely noticed her mother and Ailia trying to prevent her fall, a veil of darkness swallowing her surroundings.
When she woke up again, Maeve was disoriented, unsure how she’d ended up in her bed, wearing her dressing gown and nothing else. Outside, the day was slowly fading into night, which added to her confusion.
As she straightened up, she noticed a chair that had been set by her side, as if someone had been sitting there, watching over her.
All at once, what had happened came back to her. The paper… Her family’s darkest and deepest secret had been exposed, and it was all her fault. A new surge of panic spread through her, her breathing shallow and tears of distress filling her eyes. Lucian had betrayed her trust, and her world was ending, sentenced to death by society.
Feeling herself slip into a numbing state of panic, Maeve focused on her breathing, refusing to let her overwhelming emotions get the best of her again. She needed to think, to assess just how terrible the situation was.
With a glimpse around, she noticed the newspaper. It had been uncrumpled, folded, and was awaiting on her nightstand by the chair someone had sat in. When she reached for it, her hand was slightly trembling, but she ignored it, knowing she needed to read whatever lay within. Maybe there would be some information she hadn’t told Lucian, which would then mean he wasn’t the source of the leak.
Reading the article inside demanded so much more courage than she’d thought. She was forced to take several breaks, to wipe the silent tears rolling down her cheeks, and deep breaths to chase away the pressure growing in her chest.
Every single thing in it could have come from Lucian. Some details were unknown to anyone other than her, her twin, their parents, and him. Like the way her father found them again, out of sheer luck in Bristol. Only her father’s footman knew the story, and Lambert’s legendary loyalty hadn’t wavered to this day.
The old family butler had known as well, but Appleton had loved the twins as his own all the way to his death, three years ago. There was no way he could have spoken to anyone about the truth, either.
No, the only thing that made sense, the only thing that could explain why all this was happening now, was that Lucian had talked. Somehow, the information she had given him had ended up in this shameless newspaper, which hadn’t hesitated to ruin her family’s happiness to sell more issues.
A noise to her left startled her, and her eyes rushed to its origin. Lucian had just entered her room, coming in through the open window, as he was used to doing. Her heart ached and expanded at the same time. Part of her was elated to see him, needing his solid support and comforting embrace. But another part was tormented by his presence. He’d done this to her. The man she desperately loved had pushed her into this dreadful nightmare. How could he do this to her?
Enraged, she pushed the covers away and stood on weak knees. “What are you doing here!” she vehemently whispered, her tears of rage so close her visions became blurry.
In a matter of seconds, she was in front of him, harshly shoving his chest. “How dare you come after what you’ve done?”
Since she worried someone from the household might catch them, she tried to contain her voice, but the urge to shout at him was strong. Something dark and apologetic crossed his face. The face she’d kissed all over, the one she’d come to love desperately, the one that had spent hours between her legs… Why would he ruin it all like this?
“Maeve, I’m so sorry. I wanted to see you sooner, but they wouldn’t let me. I wasn’t even allowed in the hall. And someone was guarding the gate, so I had to find another way into the garden.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come. I don’t want to see you, Lucian.” More tears gathered in her eyes. Now that she was with him, her earlier determination wavered. Some part of her still believed he would never do such a thing to her. He’d never hurt her like that, never betray her trust.
But he wasn’t defending himself. He wasn’t claiming his innocence, forcing her to listen to his alibi and unquestionable excuses.
“Maeve, I…” He hesitated, and only then did she see the freight in his eyes, how distraught he was. He was scared — immensely so. There was something hollow in his green eyes, and it ripped her heart in half. The slim glimmer of hope she might have had died right there.
“Please, Lucian… Tell me you didn’t do this.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I did,” he confessed.
The world shattered around her, her knees turning so weak they bucked and she nearly lost her balance. Lucian was swift to catch her, preventing her fall, but she immediately ripped herself from his hold, pushing harshly against his chest again. He had no right to touch her. Not anymore.
“How could you do this to me!” she accused, tears of rage and incomprehension flowing down her cheeks. “I trusted you, Lucian.”
“I made an error of judgment, Maeve. I never meant to hurt you. Never. Please, listen to me… I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
“An error of judgment? You think, really? By revealing a secret I insisted was fundamental you kept to yourself?”
He sighed, struggling to find a way to make her understand whatever was going on within him. But Maeve knew. No matter what he said, nothing could forgive what he’d done.
“After I left you, I went to find John at his favored club,” he explained. “He was playing cards with Ackley and a few others. I pulled him aside, trying to reason with him. But things didn’t go well, and everything was even worse when we parted. I was pissed at him and at myself, so I left and went to the nearest pub. I started drinking out of anger and frustration. I didn’t know what to do, how to salvage any of it.”
Lucian then hesitated, sending her a deeply apologetic frown. “There was this man, drunk off his face. He could barely stand, but he asked what was going on with me. And I don’t know what happened to me. Maybe it was the alcohol, the stress, the need to confide in someone… I spoke to that man. I’m not sure just how much I told him because I had been drinking too much. I barely remember anything past the fourth glass. I figured he was too inebriated to even remember anything. Maeve, I wouldn’t have told him a single word if I’d thought it could backfire. The man looked like he was hours from dying of cirrhosis.”
“This secret wasn’t yours to share… Regardless of your interlocutor, you had no right to speak of it.”
“I know. My love, please…” She evaded the hand that tried to reach her once more, gazing at it with a mix of need and hatred. Even now, his embrace and solid support was the only one that could make her feel better. The only one she desired.
“He did remember, Lucian,” she said in a weakened voice. “He remembered, and he decided to make money out of it. He threw my family to the wolves for a few coins so he could keep drinking his way into an early grave.”
Desperate to win her forgiveness, he approached her, his hand reaching for her arm. But she avoided it once more, knowing she’d lose her restraint if any physical contact occurred.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she struggled to say. “I entrusted you with a confession no one had spoken of in nearly twenty years. And hours later, you shared it with a perfect stranger. Do you have so little consideration for me?”
“No, it’s not that, Maeve. Never that. I don’t know what came over me. I was lost, confused, drunk, and angry at John and myself. I just… My tongue loosened. As I said, I’m not even sure just how much I told him. I can’t remember most of my stay in the pub. But I would have never given him any name. I vaguely remember him falling asleep in the midst of it, but I imagine he feigned it. There are no words to express just how terribly sorry I am for all this, darling.”
The sweet endearment hit Maeve like a sharp blade right into her heart. It was hard for her to think, her head aching and overcrowded. Her stomach was filled with knots, her mind spiraling with anxiety. Lucian’s senseless actions had destroyed her family’s reputation. He’d ruined her life and the ones of her siblings.
“Maeve, this doesn’t have to change anything,” he pleaded, tears gathering in his beautiful eyes. “We can still marry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness. I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes. I can’t lose you.”
“Nothing could ever be enough, Lucian. Can you erase all the wrong you’ve done to my family? Can you make sure Ailia gets to marry the man she loves, despite the scandal? Can you ensure that my four-year-old sister won’t have a lifetime of sideway glares and hushed gossip everywhere she goes? Can you lift the shame your actions have put on my mother, the best, most selfless woman I know?”
Something died in his eyes as he understood there was no way he’d ever repent for his actions. Maeve’s tears came back, but this time they were of grief. Their story was over, and despite how much she’d wanted it, she would never grow old by his side, never become his wife, never bear their children… Their dream life was gone before they’d even had a chance.
“If it were only me, I might forgive you, Lucian,” she told him, her voice trembling and small. “I could put all of this behind, marry you, and spend the rest of my life loving you. But my entire family is concerned. My siblings will suffer from this for the rest of their lives. My parents will never be seen in the same way again. The Langston bloodline will be shamed for generations. Everyone will—”
“To hell with them,” he pleaded, desperate in his intensity. “Damned be everyone else. You’ve never cared about what they said. Don’t start now. I love you, Maeve. I need you, and I always will.”
His declaration of love, which she’d been so eager to hear for weeks, didn’t ignite in her the feelings she’d thought it would. All it brought was more pain, more misery. It didn’t matter if he loved her anymore. It was too late. She wasn’t his to love anymore.
“Lucian… You need to leave. This is over. We cannot ever… I can’t—”
Her shallow lungs weren’t enough anymore, and she was forced to stop, unable to breathe. Before she could prevent it, Lucian came to her in two quick steps. The instant he welcomed her into his embrace, the little strength she had left shattered into a thousand pieces. In his powerful arms, she felt both full and empty. Full of him, of her love for him, and hollow of hope, deprived of the future they were owed.
“Maeve… Marry me. I can’t live without you. I need you. Like I’ve never needed anyone before.”
“Don’t you see I can’t? It would mean choosing you over my family, and I can’t do this to them, not after what you’ve done. More than ever, my siblings need me. We need each other. You ruined it, Lucian. You ruined everything.”
“What if… what if you’re with child? Maeve, after last night—”
“I’m not. I won’t be. Please, you have to go.”
Although she knew it was over, part of her refused to let it end. Helpless against the crumbling intensity of her emotion, she remained against him, taking in his heat, his scent, and his broadness one very last time.
To her despair, the door opened next to them, and they instantly stepped away from one another. Ashamed to have been caught in the arms of the man who’d betrayed her entire family, Maeve’s eyes traveled to the newcomer. Four eyes similar to hers went back and forth between her and the intruder, until her father eventually reacted.
“Get out of my house this instant, Worthington,” the duke ordered. His voice contained more hatred and threat than Maeve had ever heard from him. Dread overtook her mind, and Ailia glared at her with reproach, adding to her great shame.
“Leeds, I—” Lucian attempted.
“Out! Haven’t you done enough as it is?! Do you wish to compromise my daughter more than you already have this entire household?”
“I never intended to—”
“It’s too late! Leave before I’m forced to challenge you to a duel for the sake of my family’s reputation!”
“Papa, no!” Maeve begged.
Watching her father and Lucian attempt to kill one another would be her end. She loved both men too much to bear the idea. There would be no winner, and her heart would never heal, knowing she was the cause of it all. She turned to the man she’d imagined an entire future with, barely seeing him through her tears.
“Please, leave,” she pleaded. “And never come back.”
He hesitated, his gaze wavering between her and her father, briefly halting on her sister. If he thought he could win their approval, he was severely mistaken. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever make what he’d done go away.
Despite everything, despite all she’d believed, they weren’t meant to be in the end. It didn’t matter how much she loved the man, how perfect their union would have been. It wasn’t destined to be.
With her eyes, she begged him to comply, for her own sake. Eventually, Lucian agreed, and without a word, he headed to the window. He gave her one last glance, full of promises and determination, but she swiftly looked away, refusing to acknowledge it. It was over. He’d ruined everything.
As soon as he’d leapt over the wall, back into the garden, her father went to the window and closed it with angered gestures. He came in front of Maeve in long strides, and the disappointment in the look he gave her tore her heart a little further.
“This window is to remain locked until we leave,” he ordered. Her entire body shuddered at her father’s tone. He’d never treated her like this in the past, had never even raised his voice at her in anger. “Do not challenge me on this, Maeve, or I’ll have someone seal it. If you see him again, you’ll be sent to a convent in France. Is that clear?”
Unable to speak, the lump in her throat too dense, she nodded.
Knowing how much she’d disappointed him was the last drop, and yet another surge of tears overwhelmed her. She watched as the duke exited her room and then turned to her sister for comfort. But Ailia harbored just as much rancor if not more, and after one last glare full of accusations, she left Maeve alone in her room.
For hours, she cried and cried, rivers of pain and guilt. Lucian had betrayed her. He’s shared her secret with another man, despite his promise not to do so. If he loved her, if he truly loved her as he’d claimed, he wouldn’t have done such a thing. He’d have kept her revelations to himself.
But in the end, as much as she wanted to blame him for it all, she was the one truly responsible for this debacle. Her judgment of Lucian had been wrong, blinded by love and affection. She should have known. She should have upheld her promise to Ailia and shouldn’t have said a thing.
If only she’d done that… Her family wouldn’t be in the great distress she’d put them in, and she would still be marrying the man she loved.
What a fool she’d been…
【41】Unfruitful Attempts
Lucian still couldn’t understand how everything had descended into a hellish nightmare. The future he longed for, the one he was so close to getting, was now long gone, as swiftly as a carpet swept from under him. In the span of an evening, everything had spiraled into utter chaos.
The woman who gave meaning to everything was gone, as inaccessible to him as if she’d been on the other side of the world. He’d not only lost Maeve, but he’d also hurt her greatly, which was the last thing he ever wanted to do.
Upon waking up with a severe headache and no recollection of the evening before, Lucian had promised himself he wouldn’t get carried away in such a baseless manner ever again. He was about to marry a proper lady, the finest he’d ever encountered, so he ought to improve his ways and control his dark impulses.
Despite the late hour, he’d decided to visit the Langstons, right on time for tea. So, ignoring the pulsing ache at the base of his skull, he’d busied himself with getting ready. Upon getting downstairs, he’d found the servants uneasy and secretive, which had instantly triggered worry in him. His valet had been the one who’d brought the paper to him, explaining something terrible had happened.
As soon as his eyes had landed on the covers, fragments of his conversation with the Irishman had come back to him, causing the blood to abandon his face. What had he done?
Minutes later, he’d been on his horse, racing his way to Maeve. To his dismay, they hadn’t allowed him in, not even past the main door. Somehow, they knew he was the cause of it all. Maeve must have confessed, she must have told them she’d confided in him. After all his bargaining had failed, he’d changed strategy and had illicitly made his way to her room. Sneaking through the garden and climbing over her window had been entirely different from all the other times before, charged with anguish and guilt.
The state he’d found her in had shattered him. He’d broken the strong, fierce, and independent woman he’d fallen in love with. Her tears had torn his heart in half, and the way she’d begged him to leave and never come back had felt like a sharp blade through his chest. Lucian would never forgive himself for doing this to her.
His pain was deserved for breaking her trust and sharing her confessions. But it was unfair that she and her family should suffer so much from his actions.
Out of options, he’d left her be, with the intention of returning after a few days had passed. At the very least, if he couldn’t salvage their future together, he hoped he could earn her forgiveness. The idea that she’d loathe him until the end of time was too much for him to handle.
By the time he’d come back, two days later, the entire Langston clan had left London. In an effort to escape the rumors and gossip, they’d retreated to the family’s ancestral estate up north. The duke had also made sure to cancel the announcement of their engagement and upcoming wedding, which had put an end to his delusions that he might gain her pardon.
It still didn’t make sense to him why he’d thought getting blackout drunk would be a good idea. Yes, he’d been hurt and helpless because of John’s reaction, but it wasn’t like him to drink as much as he had. Which was certainly why he hadn’t been able to handle his liquor or reason with his ludicrous impulses. It also explained why he barely remembered a thing about his conversation with the Irishman. His memory of the evening wavered somewhere between the fourth and the fifth glass.
But given the content of that God-forsaken newspaper, he most certainly had revealed a lot more than he should have. He’d betrayed Maeve’s trust, ruined their chances at a future together, and endangered the happiness of her entire family.
For God’s sake, if only he’d kept his mouth shut. He’d ruined it all. He’d destroyed their future. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do, aside from try to repair his mistake.
That was the reason why he found himself knocking on a door early on Tuesday, on the other side of the River Thames. It had been quite easy to obtain the address of the man who owned the newspaper – Edward Mitchell. Lucian wouldn’t let go until he’d gotten the man to retract the shameful accusations.
The door opened, revealing a young maid with red hair. “Can I help you, m’lord?” she asked.
“I’m here to see Mr. Mitchell. It’s an urgent matter.”
“He’s finishing breakfast with his wife and children. I’ll see if he can spare you a moment, mister…?”
“Thorne.”
She glimpsed at the rain pouring outside and decided to invite him in while he waited. Lucian stepped into the small house, examining the wooden interior. It was all very modest, nothing of great value, and it seemed the maid he’d seen was the only employee. Surely, Mitchell wouldn’t pass on an opportunity to improve his lifestyle, and Lucian might be able to negotiate a favor.
“Mr. Thorne?”
Lucian turned around, facing the door the maid had disappeared into, and his eyes landed on a slender man of medium height, who had a pair of round glasses, a thin mustache, and a receding hairline.
“Mr. Mitchell, I’m Lord Worthington, Earl of Bath.”
After a second of stupor, his interlocutor cleared his throat and straightened up. With a gesture of his hand, he invited Lucian to follow him further in the house, leading him to what must have been his study. “It isn’t every day I welcome a war hero in my humble abode. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my lord?”
“I’m not sure you’ll find it very pleasurable.”
Mitchell was taken aback for a second, but he insisted nonetheless. “Brienne said it was urgent?”
“It is indeed. You see, I consider myself a friend of the Duke of Leeds and his family. And I don’t like seeing my friends endure defamatory claims and shameful accusations.”
As soon as he understood the purpose of Lucian’s visit, Mitchell’s assurance wavered, doubt appearing on his face. “Lord Worthington, I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this, but I can’t do anything about your problem.”
“Really?” Lucian threateningly asked, coming closer to the man. “It seems like all you’d need to do is issue a counter statement that explains it was all a hoax, a ridiculous farce.”
“If I did that, my lord, it would be the end of my paper. People would never believe a word we print ever again. Can you imagine if we retracted our statement every time someone gets offended? It would be mayhem. I cannot do anything for you or your friend. Now please, leave my house.”
The man seemed certain of his words, and while his body language betrayed his uneasiness and worry, his voice and the determination in his eyes showed no will to capitulate. Had the circumstances been different, Lucian might have let him be, accepting his defeat. But how could he give up so easily when the image of Maeve, so broken and torn, was still so fresh in his mind? For her sake and for his atonement, he had to succeed.
Only listening to the voice in his head that spurred him to avenge her, Lucian reached Mitchell in three strides and fisted the collar of his shirt. He pulled on the fabric until the man was barely touching the ground anymore, making the seams of his white shirt crack. Panic flashed behind his glasses, and he instinctively raised his hands to protect his face.
“What must I do to fix this?!” Lucian asked with threats in his tone.
“As I told the duke when he paid me a visit, I will not be intimidated.” Mitchell’s voice was uneven, his body trembling with anguish.
“The Duke of Leeds was here?”
“He was. Yesterday morning. Just like you, he wanted to repair the damages the article has caused.”
Surprised, Lucian released him. Mitchell adjusted his glasses, askew on his nose, and then rearranged the collar of his shirt before soothing the fabric down his chest. If the duke himself hadn’t managed to get him to cooperate, there was hardly a chance Lucian would. Langston had much more power than he did, and since it was his own family that had been affected, it was certain he’d tried everything.
“I’ll tell you what I told him,” Mitchell started, displaying a surprising amount of control and courage. “If the article is defamatory, the only course of action you can resort to is to sue the newspaper over it. A judge will decide if we lied or not. But I have a good source, Lord Worthington. I never would have published the accusations if I didn’t trust the man completely. We have been acquainted for years, you see, and it isn’t the first time he’s sold me valuable and authentic information.”
Lucian considered the alternative, wondering if the duke was already working on it. If he sued the paper over the accusations and lost, the backlash would be much worse than the article itself. The matter would blow out of proportion, and bring the scandal further into the light.
The key to it all was the Irishman. If Lucian found him, the man he’d confided in and who’d sold the story to Mitchell, then maybe this war could be won.
“What if your source decides to retract his statement? What if he admits he was lying all along?”
“I hardly imagine he would, my lord. But if he did, we might have to handle it in a more private manner. I’m not willing to go to court if I know I cannot win.”
There it was. The perfect solution. All Lucian had to do was find the Irish bastard who’d ran his tongue, and force him to undo what he’d done. Mitchell might not be one to give in to threats or bribery, but it was sure there would be a price for the drunkard’s cooperation.
“What’s the name of your source?” Lucian asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find the bloody man.
“Once more, I cannot share this information with you, Lord Worthington. If I start giving away my contacts, I’ll lose all the ones I have.”
While he despised the man for what he’d done, Lucian had to admit that he had a strong moral fiber and an impressive dedication to his work. Being built as he was, it was rare for Lucian to fail at intimidating others. As fate would have it, such a thing was now happening when he needed it the most.
But in the end, finding the Irishman would be easy. Lucian might encounter him again at the pub, drinking himself to death, as he seemed accustomed to. He remembered the prostitute, who apparently worked the place and who often sold her services to the man. All Lucian needed to do was to head there tonight, and maybe he’d stumble on him again.
Yes, that would be Lucian’s next step in fixing this terrible ordeal. Return to the pub and find the bastard. Given the money the Irishman had made by selling his — Maeve’s — secrets, it was likely he’d be spending some of it all week on drinks and feminine company.
Really, how hard could it be to find the man?
Madness seemed to rule Lucian’s life. For twelve days now, he’d been looking for the Irishman, to no avail.
The pub had been easy to locate, and there, he’d found the prostitute he’d encountered on his first time — Sally. It hadn’t taken many coins to get more information from her. It seemed the Irishman, Patrick O’Quinn, was only in London a few days a month, sometimes in and out with the tide. As a sailor who was more often at sea than on land, he usually spent his time in Dublin with his family. That, alas, was the extent of what Sally knew. Lucian hadn’t found more than that, despite consulting the manifests at the harbor, or trying to find which boats followed O’Quinn’s pattern.
Lucian had no way of knowing when the Irishman would be back in town, which maddened him to no end. So, to make sure he wouldn’t miss the man’s next visit, Lucian spent his evening at the pub they’d met in, seated in a retreated corner, waiting.
As for his days, they were spent in his chambers, surrounded by darkness and silence. He’d drawn the curtains shut, with only a ray of light that came below whenever the sun was up. Had he not instructed his valet to warn him whenever the evening was here, Lucian might not even have noticed the difference between day and night. It was too late to take back what he’d done, so all Lucian could do now was repent. Which he was doing, in his very own twisted way.
He allowed himself no distractions, no pleasure, and no mercy. All he had were his gloom thoughts, about the war, about her, and about the life they’d never have. Because of his reckless behavior, he’d lost everything, including John.
In the past, Lucian had already been prone to such an invasion of gloom thoughts, caught by the sharp and cold grip of depression. War had done that to him more than once, leaving him wondering what was the purpose of it all. But John, in his infinite kindness, had always brought him back, always helped him to put all that behind and move forward.
Without his friend to remind him why life must go on, Lucian failed to find reasons to even try. He was utterly alone for the first time in his life, having pushed away both John and Maeve.
Three knocks interrupted his dark thoughts, and Lucian glanced to the side. Light still seeped from under the thick curtains, indicating it wasn’t time to go out and look for O’Quinn yet. If his valet or a maid tried to make him eat another one of the meals they kept sending up, he’d fire whoever was bringing it.
“What?!” he barked.
“My Lord, I apologize for the disturbance, but you have a visitor waiting in the sunroom,” his valet explained.
Before he could stop himself, she came into mind, filling him with hope and joy. But no, Maeve was away in the countryside, isolated with her family as they prepared for her sister’s wedding in a few days. The same day that was supposed to be theirs as well. The thought brought a sharp pain into his chest, a bitter reminder of all he’d lost.
But if it wasn’t her, it had to be John. Lucian had instructed that all visitors must be sent their way, except his old friend and, of course, Maeve. Those were the only two people he craved to see.
Had John forgiven him? Now that over two weeks had passed, had he realized Lucian hadn’t had a choice? That whatever spell Maeve had cast on him, he was helplessly tied to her until the end of time.
Impatient to see his dearest friend, Lucian hastily rose from the armchair he’d sunk in. As a fit of vertigo hit him, his legs unstable, he realized that eating might not be such a bad idea after all. His physical state was deteriorating as fast as his mental one, and the lack of activity had brought back the stabbing pain in his injured knee.
With a groan, he grabbed his cane against the armrest and made his way to the door. He unlocked it and opened the panel to exit the room. His valet seemed surprised to see him, as if he’d expected that he wouldn’t respond, but Lucian ignored him. Instead, he began his walk to the sunroom.
“My Lord, may I offer my assistance to help you… look more presentable.”
Lucian waved a vague hand to refuse the offer. Had his visitor been anyone else, he might have taken a moment to clean up and get dressed. He was still wearing the cheap clothes he’d slipped on the evening before, his disguise to remain in the pub unnoticed, and he hadn’t taken a moment to shave in nearly a week now.
But it was John, finally here, and he wouldn’t make him wait a minute longer than necessary. The walk to the sunroom was excruciating, but Lucian ignored his knee and walked there with a determined pace, the tapping of his cane echoing in the corridors. When he finally reached it, he looked around to find his friend among the plants.
The familiar face he found wasn’t the one he’d expected, and a low curse escaped him.
【42】Desperate Times…
To Lucian’s displeasure, the person wandering around the glassed room wasn’t John. He hadn’t expected her to be here, observing the blooming flowers that surrounded her.
“What are you doing here, Harriet?” he asked, not hiding his annoyance. His sister whipped around to where he was, and her eyes grew two sizes when she witnessed his state. “Aren’t you supposed to enjoy your summer in the countryside with your family?” he continued.
“I am, yes. I had to come back to London for a few days to find a new nanny for the children. Dear God, Lucian, you look positively awful.” As she spoke, she made her way through the plants to reach him.
“And the air of the country suits you, you look positively ravishing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain at the moment.”
“I hope those better things include a bath. Luce, I’ve encountered cattle that smelled less foul than you do.”
“When have you ever been even remotely close to a cow?” Lucian replied with annoyance.
“I feel like I’m close to one right now, you brute. What happened to you? I thought you were happy. I thought you were heading toward a happy path.”
Lucian clenched his jaw, frustrated by her line of questioning. Even though he’d kept her name a secret, he’d shared with his sister the truth about Maeve. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining he’d messed everything up, hurting the woman he loved in the process.
“Things didn’t go the way I’d planned,” he explained through gritted teeth.
“What do you mean by that? Did Lady Maeve reject your proposal? We were all so certain we’d finally see you happily married.”
Between the information he’d shared with her and the fact that he’d asked for the family’s ring, it was no wonder his sisters and mother had assumed there would be an announcement soon. But all of this was in the past. The ring had even been returned to him on the day the Langston family had left, dropped here by a carrier.
“I was certain too, Harriet. Had everything gone the way we intended, I would have been married to her in six days’ time. But like I said, things didn’t go according to plan.”
“Six days?! How’s this the first time I’m hearing of this?”
“Things have been rather unconventional, to say the least. John— John intended to have her for himself,” Lucian disclosed, unable to ignore the sting of guilt that struck him. “But fate intended to have us together. Or so I thought.”
“Oh, Lucian…” After a slight hesitation and a disdainful look at his attire, Harriet leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his broad frame. “You should have told me all this,” she insisted, tightening her hold for a moment.
“I didn’t see the point in that.”
She moved away from him swiftly, looking at him like she was about to scold him like a child. “You should have told me because I’m a woman, so who better to give you advice on feminine affairs?”
“There isn’t any advice you could give that would fix this.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know, would you? First of all, you won’t win her back by looking disheveled, unshaven, and smelling like you do. So, go take a bath first. Actually, take two. And have your valet shave you. I’ll be waiting in the tea parlor.”
“Harri—”
“No, that’s enough protest. You’ve been wallowing in self-pity for long enough. As your big sister, I ought to take care of you. And you have to obey me since I’m older.”
“As the male heir of the family, I have the authority,” he reminded her with cynicism.
Amusement flashed in her familiar eyes. “Don’t force me to kick your arse as I used to.”
“When I was six and you were twice my size.”
“Don’t be fooled by our current ratio; I still could get the upper hand. Go on, Lucian. I promise that if you could smell yourself, you’d be running to that bath.”
After a sigh, Lucian lifted an arm to sniff his pit. Right, maybe she had a point. He didn’t remember letting himself go this much in the past, not even during his time in the Peninsula.
Over half an hour later, Lucian was coming down again, in a much more proper state than he’d been upon Harriet’s arrival. His valet had doused the warm water with scented oils, making him feel like an idiot who’d rolled into a flower bed. But he had to admit that he already felt better, more like himself.
Lucian found his sister in the tea parlor, as agreed, and the table before her was filled with pastries and treats. When he sat on the sofa opposite from her, she filled a delicate porcelain cup with steaming tea and handed it to him.
“Drink, Luce. Nothing to make you feel better than tea.”
“Ah, had we known this, we might have brought a boat full of it to Spain,” he sarcastically teased her.
“Don’t be such a twit. Your staff told me you’ve barely eaten lately. Have a slice of apple pie as well. It’s still Cook’s best dish.”
Lucian cooperated, somehow surprised by how maternal his sister was. Now that she had children of her own, it made sense she’d have such natural authority, such a need to care for her loved ones. Once he’d emptied his cup and eaten the slice of sweet and fruity dessert, he leaned back on the couch, preparing himself for whatever she’d come up with next.
“So, tell me everything about what happened, so I might help you find a solution,” she demanded, pouring them both another cup.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose much of the matter.”
“At least tell me if it has something to do with that article about her family.”
“I take it the recent rumors have reached the countryside,” Lucian said.
“They have. The whole country has heard of it, I’d say.” Silence settled itself into the room, which was suddenly charged with tension. Lucian wasn’t sure what to say, and his sister was trying to find a diplomatic way to entertain the topic. “Are you— Are you not engaged to her anymore because of the rumors? Was it your decision to call off the engagement?”
“No. If the rumors are true,” Lucian carefully explained, “I couldn’t care less. Blood isn’t what makes a person worthy in my eye. Their actions and words are what matters.”
“I agree,” Harriet said with a nod. “I chose my husband because he was a good person. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have a title or riches. This whole scandal has been such a mess.”
It had been. The only good thing that had come out of it so far was that Maeve’s sister, Ailia, hadn’t been forced to break off her engagement. It seemed her fiancé didn’t care about the article and still wanted to marry her by next week, regardless of the scandal now surrounding her. The family had denied the accusations with vehemence, and the public opinion was torn, unsure what to believe.
The Duchess of Leeds was renowned for her impeccable manners and flawless hosting skills. She carried her title with presence, and a majority of people refused to believe the scandalous article held any truth. To the skeptics, the mighty duchess of immaculate reputation couldn’t possibly be a Bohemian. They would have noticed if she was anything less than perfect, which meant she ought to be as blue-blooded as the rest of them.
“Father must be rolling over in his grave,” Harriet pointed out with a humorless chuckle.
Remembering that his sister also had history with the Langstons, Lucian offered her a small smile and a shake of his head. “Imagine the mayhem if you’d indeed married the duke. I would have fallen in love with his daughter, and what would that have made us? Stepmother-in-law and stepson-in-law?”
She grimaced at the thought, wrinkling her nose with disdain. “You think you would have loved her even in such circumstances?”
“I believe Maeve Langston is the only woman on this damned island that I could ever love as much as I do. A part of my heart became hers from the moment I saw her three years ago. And that part has only been growing ever since, even though I might have mistaken love for hatred at some point.”
When he met his sister’s eyes again, Lucian noticed the emotions overwhelming her, her eyes glistening. “Then why are you locked in here instead of out there, doing everything you can to win her back?”
“It’s too late, Harry. I’ve ruined things, and I don’t think I can ever fix what I did.”
“But you should at least try, you tall cretin.”
“You don’t understand,” he replied with annoyance, dismissing the insult. “At this point, I’m not trying to win her back anymore, because I know I cannot possibly amend the damage I’ve done. But I’m trying to repair some of it, at the very least.”
“You’re trying by staying locked in your room all day?”
“I go out in the evenings.”
“And you come back reeking of alcohol, I’m aware. I interrogated the maids while you were taking care of your bovine condition.”
Now, Harriet’s meddling was starting to annoy Lucian. He felt bad enough about what he’d done and the current state of his life. He had no need for her judgmental interjections to add to it.
“You’ll have to believe I’m doing what I can, Harriet.”
She sighed, proving she didn’t believe him, but said nothing. They drank from their cups in silence, their eyes lost somewhere on the table between them. Since his sister didn’t know the real reason behind what had broken the engagement, she couldn’t possibly understand the type of situation he was in.
But he knew. He’d witnessed just how much he’d hurt Maeve, how her family hated him, how he’d betrayed her in so many ways. Harriet had wrongly assumed he’d been wallowing in self-pity, but she’d been wrong. Admittedly, he regretted what he’d done and what he’d lost. But most of all, he ached for the pain he’d inflicted on her. The suffering she had to go through.
From now on, he wouldn’t entertain his delusion that he might win her back. She was gone, loathing him to no end, and she deserved to be rid of him after what he’d done. He wouldn’t even chase her forgiveness, which she was free to refuse him if she wanted. But for his own sake, he’d do whatever he could to right his wrong.
Harriet’s visit left Lucian conflicted. Even though he hadn’t wanted nor necessarily appreciated her sisterly support, spending some time with her had made him feel less alone. He might have lost Maeve and John, but he still had his three siblings and mother.
As he sat in the dark corner of the pub, for the twelfth evening in a row, he observed the local fauna, entertained by the lively activity. Among the little people of the place, he felt as though he was back in the Peninsula, with penniless men looking for scraps of happiness in the bottom of a bottle or between the legs of a woman. Maybe this was where he belonged. Among the nobodies, the ones who’d never rise beyond the shit hand life had dealt them.
After this, once he would have found the Irishman and forced him to take back all he’d said, he might return to Wellington and ask to be sent back with whatever army he saw fit, in whatever country he might be needed in. Lucian had never been to India, and the idea of being posted there, halfway across the world, was an appealing one. Maybe then he’d be far enough to forget her.
Holding back a sigh, he brought his pint up and drank from the tepid brew. After all the time he’d spent here, he’d grown accustomed to its bitter taste. The stew, however, was something he would never enjoy. Every evening, he ordered supper and ale, but while he generally finished the latter, the former always remained untouched. Only God knew what meat was in there, and Lucian wasn’t keen on finding out for himself.
One of the women in charge of the service stopped by his table on her way back, and she glimpsed at his untouched plate. “Cook will start taking offense, sir,” she declared with a thick Welsh accent.
Lucian forced a wince on his face, even though he couldn’t care less about the opinion of whoever came up with this foul-smelling stew. After another disapproving glance, she took the plate from the table, leaving him his half-empty glass.
“Want me to bring you more bread, since it’s all you ever eat?” the waitress insisted.
“No, I’m good.”
“You sure? A big lad like you needs to eat, or you’ll end all bony like my brother.”
“I’m not here for the food,” Lucian insisted.
“Still looking for that Irishman? Queeny, was it?”
“O’Quinn. And yes, I’m still looking for him.”
“Tonight might be it, handsome. A couple of the men that are usually with him just came in.” With that, the woman left with his untouched plate.
Lucian’s attention was piqued, and he straightened up in his seat, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the wooden table. It tilted under his weight as he scanned the room with an attentive gaze. Could she be right? Would the bastard be here tonight?
With keen interest, he observed everyone’s faces, in case he’d missed the man earlier. No one matched his memory of O’Quinn, but he didn’t let himself despair. If the woman had been right, maybe it would be better to wait outside. The pub was crowded, given the hour, and Lucian had no desire to trigger a public brawl that he couldn’t win. Catching O’Quinn as he arrived would be more convenient, safer, and hastier.
After he’d downed the rest of his ale in one take, he grabbed his cane and pushed himself off the chair. On his way outside, he threw a few coins on the sticky surface of the bar, making sure the tenant had seen it, and fended his way to the door.
The waitress’s words were giving him hope, excitement coursing through his veins. All of this might be over by tomorrow. He’d find O’Quinn, use whatever means he needed to force him to retract his statement, and then the Langstons’ reputation would be cleared. Admittedly, some rumors might still linger for a while, but the worst of it would be over.
Lucian was so eager to find the Irishman, he barely paid any mind to the aching in his knee. His thoughts were too clouded by the possibility that it would be settled soon. And maybe… Maybe she’d forgive him enough to take him back.
Although he’d told himself this wasn’t the goal any longer, Lucian couldn’t help the thought. He desired a life with her too much to hold it back. The woman had to be his, even though he was aware he didn’t deserve her. More than ever, he was aware that he’d never truly make up for what he’d done. But he’d keep trying.
Just as he was exiting the lively noise of the pub, someone’s shoulder bumped into his arm.
“Sorry, mate,” the man said.
The accent compelled Lucian to look back, and as soon as his eyes landed on the man he’d collided with, his heart began to race in his chest. There he was. The bastard who’d ruined everything. The opportunistic cunt who’d destroyed his entire future.
Before he could even think about it, Lucian’s hand seized the back of O’quinn’s collar. “Oi! The fuck yer doing?!” he protested as Lucian pulled him with strength.
O’Quinn attempted to get free of Lucian’s hold, but his puny size and the fact that he was already intoxicated made him clumsy and inefficient. A few people watched them with curiosity as Lucian dragged him all the way to the side of the pub, where he knew there was a dark alley. One that the men from the pub used when they needed a private moment with one of the prostitutes.
As Lucian slammed the Irishman onto the brick wall, he scanned the surrounding darkness to make sure they were alone. It seemed no man was busy enjoying the alley’s privacy, actively seeking release between a woman’s legs.
“Whatever money I owe ye, we can arrange it,” O’Quinn tried to negotiate.
“It’s not money that I want from you.”
Lucian’s voice was barely better than a growl, and his hold on the man’s collar intensified, pressing his forearm on his throat with increasing intensity. He glared into the man’s glassy eyes as they frantically roamed over his face, trying to identify him. After a few seconds, something seemed to click in the man’s mind, as though he’d recognized him.
Instead of growing warier, the man relaxed slightly. “It’s ye… The war guy with all the stories.”
Seeing red, Lucian shoved his arm further into the man’s throat. “One more word and I’ll choke you to death, O’Quinn.”
A gurgling noise came out of the man’s throat, his face reddening. He tried to speak, but his words weren’t discernable. Lucian forced himself to give him some room, realizing it would be counterproductive to kill the bastard. With him gone, there would be no other way to erase what he’d done.
“What’s gotten into ye, mate? Is this about yer lass?”
Either he was a fool, or he’d already drunk his fill tonight, preventing him from realizing how much danger he was in. Lucian was about to press on him again when a movement to his left caught his attention.
A man was coming their way, accompanied by a middle-aged woman wearing an askew red dress.
“Leave!” Lucian ordered, sending them an acerbic glare. Now wasn’t the time for this.
They both halted in their steps, noticing only just now that the alley was already taken. “It’ll only be five minutes,” the man tried to negotiate.
“More like twenty seconds,” the woman countered with an eye roll.
“Shut up, tart. That’s less work for you, ain’t it?”
“Leave now,” Lucian ordered again.
“Come, I know another spot,” the blonde offered, wrapping her hand around the man’s arm. In seconds, Lucian was alone with the Irishman again. After one last glare at him, he released him entirely. O’Quinn passed a hand over his throat, trying to chase away the discomfort.
“Were ye always this big? I didn’t notice last time,” he pointed out with a croaky voice.
“Would it have changed a thing?” Lucian asked, his tone filled with resentment. “Would knowing I can kill you with my bare hands have made you keep your mouth shut?”
Despite the darkness of the alley, Lucian noticed the confusion that crossed O’Quinn’s face. “What are ye on about, mate?”
“Don’t take me for an imbecile. I know it was you who sold the information to the papers.”
The man’s puzzlement seemed to deepen. “What information?”
Short of patience, Lucian slammed him onto the wall again, returning his arm against the bastard’s throat. “I told you to stop this!”
“How ’bout ye tell me what ye think I did?” the Irishman struggled to say.
“The things I told you last time… You spoke of them. You sold the information to the papers.”
“Who the fuck would care ’bout yer old war stories? I know ten lads who could recount similar ones.”
Now it was Lucian’s turn to be confused. Uncertain what kind of games O’Quinn was playing, he released him once more, glaring down at him with animosity. “I don’t mean the war stories. I mean the rest.”
“All you talked about was the war, mate. Ye told me about Spain and all.”
Lucian’s brows were knitted together, his face a mask of disorientation. “I remember speaking to you about my fiancée as well.”
“Oh, yes. Ye kept telling me how beautiful she is. I think ye said ‘most stunning creature in the whole continent’. Which I objected to, but ye insisted. Ye kept blabbering about how she’s perfect. Even told me how she almost beat yer arse at a horse race. The lass has properly whipped ye, mate.”
“Did I speak of her family?” Lucian insisted.
“Neh, at some point ye said ye shouldn’t be talking about her anymore, so ye started telling me yer stories about the war.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yeh, that’s all. Honestly, I was barely conscious the whole time, but I recall that much. Don’t ye remember any of it?” Lucian shook his head, still frowning. How far gone had he been, really?
From the very start, it had made no sense that he’d betray Maeve’s secrets in such a careless manner. But between his inability to remember the evening past the fifth glass of cheap whiskey and the timing of it all, he’d understandably assumed he’d caused the whole fiasco. And he’d been ready to accept the consequences of it, refusing to deny and refute accusations he couldn’t disprove. Accusations that seemed accurate and credible.
But if the Irishman was being truthful, then it changed everything. If all Lucian had confided in him was his war experience and that his fiancée was the most utterly perfect woman, then he hadn’t betrayed Maeve. Even drunk off his face, Lucian had stopped himself and kept her confessions to himself, protecting her and her family. If the informant wasn’t O’Quinn but someone else, then there was no point in them being apart. He still deserved her, was still worthy of her love and trust.
Maybe it wasn’t too late after all. Admittedly, the wedding they were supposed to celebrate in a few days couldn’t be maintained, but it didn’t matter, as long as they had one, eventually. But before he could think of all that, Lucian had to be certain this wasn’t another deceitful twist in this dreadful affair.
“Are you messing with me?” he asked, using a murderous tone.
“Why would I? I don’t know what’s yer issue, mate, but ye’ve got the wrong man. Aside from drinking half yer bottle, I did nothing wrong.”
Lucian wanted to believe him. With everything he had. But all this had taught him not to trust a drunkard. “O’Quinn, I will give you two hundred pounds if you go back to the newspaper’s editor and retract the statements.”
The Irishman’s eyes went huge, glassy, and surprised. For a few seconds, he considered the offer, and Lucian’s heart dropped into his chest. Maybe O’Quinn had been lying all along, and the bribe would prove it was all true, after all. “A’ight, I don’t know who the man yer talking about is, but for that money, I’ll do anything ye want, mate. Give me a name, an address, and I’ll tell him whatever ye need me to say.”
There was something in the desperation in his voice that told Lucian everything he needed to know. O’Quinn was legitimately unaware of all the mess. He hadn’t caused it, and most likely still had no idea who Maeve even was.
Lucian’s mind was overloaded with questions and realizations. Someone else had spoken, and given the timing, it ought to be tied with Maeve’s confession. Had someone been out there with them that evening? Had one of the guests been eavesdropping while she’d confided in him? But then, why was it that the paper wasn’t mentioning any of their highly inappropriate interactions? The kisses they’d exchanged and the forbidden nature of their encounter were gossips nearly as potent as the truth behind her family’s history.
If someone had witnessed her confessions, then they’d also see the two of them weren’t respecting the rules of courtship, they’d witnessed the indecency of their ways. So why wasn’t it out there as well? Maybe the leak came from elsewhere. If O’Quinn wasn’t the solution to this madness, Lucian would do everything he could to find who’d spoken to the papers. But first…
First, he had to find Maeve. She ought to know the truth. He had to tell her she’d been right to trust him with her secrets. He’d kept them, despite doubting it at first.
Hopefully, she’d believe him. She’d hear him out and trust that he was honest, that he wouldn’t do anything to ruin their future together.
And maybe that very future could be saved.
【43】Utter Loneliness
LMFAO, I’M KIDDING! PLEASE, DON’T HATE ME!
I got the idea because of one of
bleedingdaysie
’s
comments 🤣💀
The story picks up where we left it off. Sorry for the fright 😂❤️
For months now, Maeve had wanted nothing more than to leave London and go back to the family’s estate up north. The city, its noises, its smells, its crowd… She’d been eager to escape it, to be free of its oppressive atmosphere. But then Lucian had come into her life, and everything had changed. To be with him, to entertain their affair, she’d be willing to endure the capital until the end of time.
Now that she was back in the countryside, though, she’d been nothing but gloomy and emotional. It had been nearly three weeks, and nothing helped to improve her mood. Her sister was still cross with her, and even her parents’ demeanor wasn’t entirely normal where she was concerned. In all honesty, she couldn’t even blame them for it. She hadn’t forgiven herself for her grave mistake, so why should they?
Maeve had always prided herself on being a strong, quick-witted, and independent woman. One that would never allow herself to be fooled by a man.
But Lucian wasn’t just a man. He’d never been just a man. She’d known that much from the moment she’d seen him, three years ago. One by one, he’d torn apart the walls she’d built around herself, using his piercing green eyes, raspy words, and surprisingly moving personality. Because she’d trusted him with everything she had, she’d stood before him, bared, stripped of it all — metaphorically and physically. For him and only him, she’d been willing to give some of herself. All of herself.
How naïve she’d been…
In the end, it had served no other purpose than teaching her the cruelest lesson yet. No one was worth sharing a life with. She should have believed in her original plan all along, and kept her mind on the cottage in Dorset. She might lead a lonely life there, but she’d now learned that nothing could be worse than a broken heart.
As she made her way into the family’s ancestral home, a finished book in hand, Maeve allowed her mind to wander to better times, as she often did. Times when Thomas Everson hadn’t been there, and she and Ailia were still thick as thieves, the truest of soul sisters. Had Everson now wooed her twin, the two of them would now be getting ready for their peaceful life in Dorset, blissfully ignorant of the tyranny of the opposite sex.
But it was unfair of Maeve to wish that upon her sister. Despite everything, Everson had insisted on maintaining the wedding, adamant he didn’t believe in the rumors. He had surprised her, showing she’d maybe had the wrong opinion of him in the end. Ailia would marry him in two days’ time, in the chapel north of the manor. Guests would start arriving later today, and then the whole day tomorrow. Despite the article, quite a few of them were still attending, either disbelieving the paper’s claims or wanting to show their support to the powerful Duke of Leeds. Either way, Maeve was happy that her sister would get the big wedding she’d always wanted, and not a humiliating ceremony with barely anyone in attendance.
When she reached the upstairs library’s door, Maeve opened it without a thought, used to find the place empty. This was the sixteenth book she’d read since their return, and she already knew which one she’d start next. After all those months in London, all those balls and the time she’d spent with him , she could finally catch up on her readings.
To her surprise, someone was already in there, sitting on the cushioned bench by the bow window. Aside from her younger siblings — who didn’t know about the scandal or her involvement in it — Maeve tried to avoid her family as much as possible. She was tired of the looks they constantly gave her. Her parents didn’t mean to gaze at her with such hurt and disappointment in their eyes, but Ailia most certainly did.
She observed her mother for a moment, wondering if she should come back later. Maybe it would be best, yes. Alas, the duchess turned to her just as she was about to close the door again. Her mother offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Maeve returned it. Without a word, the latter went to the shelf to return the book she’d finished shortly after lunch, and then went to another one to retrieve her next read.
“You’re finally going to read Robinson Crusoe,” her mother noted from her spot.
“Yes, I thought a book about the loneliest man on earth would help me feel less… like this.”
The duchess gave her a compassionate smile, slight sadness in her eyes. “Come over here, my darling,” she insisted, bending forward to pat the cushion opposite her.
Her fingers tightened around the book’s leather bindings as she obeyed her mother, reluctantly coming to sit in front of her. In an effort to avoid her mother’s gaze, Maeve looked outside. The view from the family’s private library had always been her favorite. With the manor uphill and from the second floor of it, one could see as far as the eyes could take. The green land that surrounded them beckoned for exploration, and the lake below the manor sent golden reflections of the sun on its undulations, daring out lookers to resist the temptation of a refreshing summer swim.
“While I don’t agree with every aspect of this book,” the duchess started, “you’ll see that even if it feels like so in the darkest of times, all is not lost. There’s always hope, and things might get worse at points, but they’ll get better, eventually.”
“I’m not sure, Mama… Ailia will ever look at me the same; I know that much.”
“Of course, she will. She just needs time. You two don’t have the same priorities; you never really did. She wants to lead a normal life and become a wife and a mother. You want adventures. You always have.”
“She wanted to come to Dorset with me,” Maeve reminded her mother.
“But did she, really? Whose idea was it in the first place? Who claimed that men would never measure up to the bond you two had? Who insisted that true happiness would be to remain together forever, just the two of you?”
Maeve grimaced, holding the book against her chest as if it could shield her from the truth. “I did.”
“And she followed because she always does. She loves you so, so much. The link between you two has baffled me from the start. Ailia agreed with you because of it.”
“Are you saying that I forced her into wanting Dorset?”
“No, I’m only saying you are the strong-minded of the two. Remember how it used to be? The games you two played when you were children?” the duchess asked after a brief pause.
“Which ones?”
“Ailia wanted to pretend motherhood with the dolls, using them as babies, and you wanted wild tales of pirate princesses taming dragons.”
“I remember Father was an excellent dragon,” Maeve nodded with a chuckle. No one would ever believe that the mighty Duke of Leeds had ever pretended to be a ruthless legendary beast, roaring and crawling on all four only to be vanquished by the seven-year-old girl riding his back.
“He really was, wasn’t he?” her mother agreed with a soft laugh. “My point is that despite how alike you are in so many ways, you two are following your own paths now, for the first time since you were born. Your differences have finally caught up, and now is time to accept it.”
“I’m accepting it, Mama. I truly am. I know I might not look the part, but I am genuinely happy that she still gets to marry Everson, despite—”
Maeve’s words died in her throat, which tightened painfully. Would Lucian’s betrayal ever stop hurting? Would she ever grow past what he’d done, past the utter loss she felt?
It seemed like none of it would go away, ever-present within her.
“How long… How long does it take to mend a broken heart?” she asked her mother.
The duchess didn’t answer right away, pondering for a moment. Maeve looked into her mother’s eyes, trying to read her thoughts, needing the answer.
“I don’t think a broken heart truly ever heals, my angel. There will always be a tear in there, one that will never entirely go away. But you’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to live with it, and it’ll get a little easier with each day.”
The answer wasn’t reassuring in the least. So, Maeve would carry the scar Lucian had left behind for the rest of her life? There would forever be a hole in her heart, one that only he could fill?
“Is it what happened to you when you and Papa were separated?”
“Things were a little different, I’d say. The Aiden I left behind was the one I loved, the man I cherished. He hadn’t hurt me, but I knew I’d hurt him. And I had you and Ailia as well, and those eyes that reminded me of him every hour of every day. Your father had claimed a part of me without even realizing it, and that part will forever be his, no matter what happens in the future.”
Maeve looked outside again, her eyes lingering on the vastness of the landscape before them. Her mother had gone through so much worse than her. She’s not only had to deal with her terrible brothers and harsh father, but she’d also had to raise two girls with a broken heart. Amalia Romero had endured all this with a piece of her missing, left behind with the man she’d desperately loved.
“I realize I must sound silly,” Maeve felt compelled to say. “Lu— Lord Worthington wasn’t in my life for very long, and I spent most of that time despising him. But I know what I felt, Mama. My love for him was real, deep, and inevitable.”
And to her great shame, it still was. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him, from cherishing the moments they’d shared, from missing his presence when she lay alone in her bed at night. She should have hated him with everything she had, but she didn’t. Of course, she despised what he’d done and wished her family could have been spared from all this. But if he were to walk into this room right then, her heart would start hammering in her chest out of love and fulfillment, rather than hatred and anger.
“I believe you, angel. It took so much less than this for me to fall for your father,” her mother replied with an understanding smile. “I do not doubt that you truly loved him, and I even know your feelings were returned with equal intensity. But things aren’t always supposed to work out. Your father and I were lucky to get a second chance, but by the time he found us, I’d accepted that we wouldn’t.”
Maeve looked outside again, and noticed that her siblings were now out there on the trimmed grass, setting up a game of croquet. As much as she wanted to join them, she wasn’t in the mood for childish games. And Ailia was already there anyway, which meant she wouldn’t be welcomed.
“Love is such a stupid thing,” Maeve complained with a disdainful sigh. “I can’t comprehend why it is praised so highly. It makes us vulnerable, liable to heartache, and leaves nothing but carnage in its path.”
Her mother’s humorless chuckle told Maeve her opinion wasn’t shared. Maeve turned to her again when she gently grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently.
“I know you feel like this is the end of the world, sweetheart. But I promise you it’s not. You’re young, you’ll meet another man, the right one this time, and you’ll fall in love again.”
Maeve could see that she meant it, but even that wasn’t enough to help her feel better. She’d been compromised, her virtue soiled. Not only that, but she was getting too old now for the bachelors out there. None of which would want to give her a chance, regardless, given her reputation. Only the ones on the continent might be interested in her, and that wasn’t even certain.
But regardless of all that, why would she want to put herself through all this again? She’d given love a try, had even been on the path toward marriage, and nothing in the world could make her want any of it ever again. As if she could ever love someone other than Lucian…
“Would you have fallen for another man, had Papa not found you?” she asked her mother.
The duchess grimaced, letting Maeve know all she needed to hear. “Once more, angel, the situations weren’t entirely the same.”
Silence fell around them again, and this time, both of them looked out the window. Ailia and Cameron were arguing, probably about which way they should align the hoops, and Phee and Liam were fencing with their mallets. Even little Rosie was there, training with Manning, who was patiently showing her how to best hit the ball.
“You should go out there to get some fresh air,” the duchess insisted. “It will do you good.”
“You’re right. I meant to ride Sleipnir today.”
“Again?” Amalia asked, not hiding her disapproval. Ever since they’d arrived back at the manor, Maeve had been riding nearly every afternoon.
“Yes, London has been hard on him. I ought to rebuild his shape and stamina,” she explained to her mother.
“Let the groom handle it.”
“It’s all right, Mama. I enjoy riding; it helps with my mood.”
Amalia huffed in reprobation. “At least ask your father if he wants to participate. I dislike knowing you’re out there alone. What happens if you fall?”
Maeve forced an indulgent smile onto her face. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that he would most likely refuse. Twice now she’d asked him to join, but he’d found an excuse to decline. Maeve had always been close to her father, but this affair seemed to have damaged their bond. He didn’t know how to act around her anymore, and she didn’t know if it was because of how far she’d gone with Lucian, allowing him things she shouldn’t have, or because she’d nearly ruined their entire family.
“Mama, I haven’t fallen off a horse in three years, and I haven’t hurt myself from it in a decade. I will be fine, I promise.”
Before the duchess could object again, Maeve swiftly made her way out of the room. Those moments of loneliness with her loyal mount were helping her cope. When they galloped through the estate she knew well, her mind was clear of questions, empty of sadness. For brief minutes, she forgot about everything, feeling nothing else than the wind, the thrill, and the rhythm of the beast under her. And sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was in Hyde Park again, racing with Lucian.
On her way to her chambers, Maeve asked a footman to warn the stable staff that Sleipnir needed to be saddled. She’d have a couple of hours until she had to come back and get ready for dinner. Hopefully, it would be enough to improve her spirits.
Not that three weeks of it had really worked so far…
Just as she reached the wing that led to the family’s quarters, the door of the chambers her parents shared opened, startling her. When her father came out of it, oblivious to her presence, she stopped in her tracks. He nearly bumped into her, busy fastening the cufflink at his wrist but lifted his blue eyes just in time.
He froze as well, and after a slight hesitation, he offered her a tense smile and a nod. With that, he returned on his way to wherever he was headed. Maeve’s heart twitched painfully in her chest, reminded once more that she’d lost more than everyone else in this scandal. Even her father, who’d cherished her for nearly two decades, didn’t seem to care about her anymore.
“Do you hate me so terribly now?” she impulsively asked, not daring to turn around to face him.
His footsteps halted, and she waited with bated breath for his reply. “I could never hate you, Maeve,” came his hesitant voice.
This time, she willed her feet to spin her around, and another sting of ache struck her when she saw his pained expression. “Then do you just not love me anymore?” she then asked, tears prickling in her eyes.
Distraught by her question, he shook his head adamantly and joined her in a few long strides. Before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly in his comforting embrace.
“I’ll forever love you, princess. I’m sorry you even doubted I might not.”
She held him feebly, holding onto his broad chest, holding her book in his back. “We never talk anymore, Papa… And you always look at me with so much disappointment.”
“I know, I— I’m sorry, darling, I’m just… I don’t understand what got into you.”
She was thankful that they were hugging, or he might have seen the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his question. “Have you never done something stupid out of love?” she asked him, already knowing the answer would be yes.
He didn’t respond since it wasn’t needed, and held her tighter instead. Eventually, his arms loosened around her, and he pulled away with slow moves. With gentle hands, he framed her face, looking down into her eyes, similar blues clashing. The humidity in his told her he was close to crying as well. Using his thumbs, he wiped away the traces her tears had left on her cheeks before tilting her head down so he could grant her a soft kiss on her forehead.
“You’re right, princess. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting, it was never my intention to hurt you.”
“It’s all right. Everything hurts, regardless. I know you’re disappointed in me, Papa, but believe me when I say that no one is as disappointed as I am. I loathe myself for what I did, and I loathe him too…”
The duke pulled her in again, comforting her in his embrace once more. “I can’t believe I was so certain he’d be your match. I should have… protected you from him, but instead, I all but gave him my blessings.”
“You did?”
“Not in so many words, but we spoke during the ball we threw for Manning’s birthday. And I led him to understand I would approve of the match.”
The revelation prompted more tears to flow down Maeve’s cheeks. Everyone had believed in Lucian, even her overprotective father. It consoled her to know she hadn’t been the only one fooled. Lucian Thorne had been her perfect match indeed, but her idiotic mistake had ruined it all.
From now on, she’d remember blood pacts weren’t to be meddled with. Not ever, as breaking one only brought pain and disaster.
【44】Unexpected Rematch
On her way back to the manor, Maeve decided to take her time. If she arrived a bit late for dinner, no one would bother her about it. It wasn’t as though she’d been eating much lately, anyway.
Her exploration of the estate had provided a modicum of distraction, as it always did, but now that she was about to return to reality, her anxieties were slowly making their way back into her mind. She’d been truthful with her mother when she’d said she was happy for Ailia, but she regretted how things were going between them. In two days, her twin would be married, and then off to live with her husband soon after. It was a shame that twenty-four years of closeness and love would end this way. With them barely even speaking.
Maeve wasn’t even sure her sister still intended to have her by her side during the ceremony, as maid of honor. The likeliness of it was feeble, but since they hadn’t discussed it, she gathered she was still meant to be her Twin’s companion during the wedding.
Beneath her, Sleipnir had a slight jump, distracting her from her thoughts. Her mount wanted to run, having not had his fill of activity yet. Maeve bent forward to reassuringly pat the side of its powerful neck. The pelt there was barely humid, and she wondered if she should have demanded more of him. London had been rough on her riding abilities, too, and she didn’t have as much stamina as she used to.
It turned out she’d found a passion for riding Lucian more than her horse.
Before her thoughts could wander any further into that direction, Maeve forced herself to think of something else, like the narrow path in the wood she would soon enter. But by the time her eyes sought the trees ahead, images of her lustful encounters with Lucian flashed before her eyes. The memories of them in their rawest, most sensuous moments triggered dormant needs to erupt within her.
She missed their talks, their exchanges, his mossy green eyes, the scar that adorned his face, the low tunes of his baritone voice… But she also missed being his, claiming him in her bed or his, offering him her body to do with as he pleased. It was as though he’d planted a need in her, one that never existed before, and now it wouldn’t leave her no matter how hard she tried.
He’d introduced her to the pleasures of love and passion, and her body demanded its fill of it. Sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night, she found herself missing him, reminiscent of their nocturnal adventures. Three times now, she’d send her hand below the covers and had touched herself the way he used to touch her, unable to hold back. With him on her mind, she’d found momentary bliss through her ecstatic releases. But those moments had been short-lived, and tears never failed to follow as she was reminded that this would be her life from then on.
Loving and desiring a man she was forbidden to have. One she was ashamed to need so much.
Scolding herself for being such a pathetic idiot, she adjusted her position on the saddle, trying to quench the need awaking in her center. From now on, Sleipnir would be the only being she’d welcome between her legs. No more men, no more nothing. She’d messed up once, she wouldn’t do it again. Not ever.
They entered the woods, which meant there were about two and a half miles left until she was back at the manor. The thought made her sigh heavily.
When Sleipnir’s ear turned to the side, Maeve didn’t pay much attention to it, as he often heard noises she didn’t. But when he had another impatient jerk, along with an enthusiastic neigh, she turned around to see what might trigger such a reaction in him. To her surprise, she noticed another rider following a path parallel to hers. Both paths actually joined in about a hundred yards, so she’d see soon enough who it was. Probably one of the guests they were expecting for Ailia’s wedding. From where she was, the trees and bushes prevented her from seeing which one exactly, but she didn’t really care.
She paid the horseman no further mind, continuing her quiet journey back to the manor. The distance between her and the newcomer grew narrower as they progressed along their respective paths, and she eventually turned to the man again, once the visibility was clearer.
The utter shock she experienced when she saw the stranger’s face punched the air out of her lungs and dropped her heart low in her stomach. It was impossible… It couldn’t be him, he couldn’t possibly be there. She must have been dreaming of him again, as she’d done nearly every night for three weeks.
Aghast, she kept her eyes on Lucian’s profile, wondering what sort of trick her mind was playing on her this time. He’d never felt so real in her dreams before, so sharply himself, so precisely accurate. Sleipnir neighed again, and the mount below Lucian, Minerva, answered with equal enthusiasm. The two of them had grown fond of one another, often spending time together whenever Maeve was visiting her former lover.
That alerted the ghost of Lucian that her mind had conjured, and he turned his attention toward her, noticing her presence for the first time. His eyes widened as hers must have had, and she saw the shock all over his beloved features. Before she could do anything, he stirred his horse out of his path to head her way, and panic overflew her.
No, this couldn’t be happening. If it was truly him, she couldn’t allow this, couldn’t have another illicit encounter with him. Not when the previous ones had brought so much ruin to her and her family. With her heart hammering into her chest like a war drum, she spurred Sleipnir into a hasty gallop.
“Maeve!” Lucian shouted the instant her horse launched himself on the narrow path.
She ignored him, dismissed the call, and focused on escaping him. Despite the pulsing of her blood in her ears, and the sounds of the hooves beneath her, she heard Minerva’s galloping rhythm to her right. When she dared to glimpse their way, she saw Lucian had returned to his path and was racing after her, adamant to catch up.
Her heels dug into her mount’s flanks as she pushed him to go faster. Sleipnir obeyed, picking up at a faster pace and elongating his head forward. Just like him, she leaned toward the front. She wouldn’t lose this race. She couldn’t. Whatever was the reason for Lucian to be here, she couldn’t hear it.
He’d betrayed her, broken her, and hurt her whole family. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. And if she let him talk, if she granted him even just a minute of her time, she would. God forgive her, she would forgive him. One tender look from his beautiful eyes, one plea of his raspy voice, one touch of his deft hands… and she’d give him all he wanted. Because he made her weak like that, starving for his love and affection.
The paths got closer and closer, until it felt like he was right there with her, almost at arm’s length. She reached the crossing barely before him, and now that the way was broader, she dared to push Sleipnir harder. Behind her, Lucian called her again, but she ignored him once more. Small branches were in the way at certain turns, whipping her arms and legs. One of them slashed her across the cheek, spreading warmth on her skin. She didn’t even check to see if she’d been injured, too focused on the path ahead.
They rode at neck-breaking speed through the woods, racing one another as if their lives depended on it. Her corset was too tight for this, and she could barely breathe, her lungs confined by fabric, metal, and strings. But this time, she was riding astride, which granted her an advantage compared to the race they’d had in Hyde Park. Or at least, it put her on the same level as him, instead of being at a disadvantage.
When she passed her sibling’s treehouse, relief filled her heart. She was almost at the clearing that led to the lake, and Lucian was quite a few yards behind. Soon, the manor would be in view, and he’d have to stop chasing her.
The incentive had her spurring her mount yet again, and the entirety of her attention turned to the clearing she could already see. She ignored the burning sensation in her overworked thighs, the way her dress hiked up her legs, the shortness of her breath, the muffled sounds of Sleipnir’s hooves on the dirt… She could only see her salvation. So, so close.
She had to win; she had to escape him. For so many reasons, but mostly for her family. Had it only been her, she would have allowed herself to fall back into Lucian’s arms. He’d become a need as important as air to her. But that would mean betraying everyone else she loved, and that… That she refused to do.
Finally, the surrounding forest cleared out, and only then did she sense the tears on her cheeks. She kept the pace until she could see the manor, and then looked back to see if Lucian had given up on his attempt to catch her.
Her heart conflictingly tightened when she saw no traces of him. Sometime between now and the treehouse, he must have abandoned the chase. As she pulled on the reins to slow her horse, Maeve reflected on the sadness that gained her.
What was wrong with her? Why must her heart and her head always tear her in a different direction? Wanting Lucian but knowing better was the most exhausting thing she’d ever endured.
When Sleipnir had slowed to a walk, she focused on calming her panting breath. Her heart was slamming under her ribs, aching painfully — which wasn’t only caused by the race. This time, when she patted her mount’s neck, she found it drenched in sweat, probably as much as she was.
“You did good, Sleip. Thank you.”
To give herself some time to recover before she reached the stables, Maeve followed the side of the lake at a lazy pace, replaying the events that had just occurred in her head.
Had it really happened? Was Lucian truly here? Had he chased after her, even after everything he’d done? Even if she’d told him to never come back?
As if to confirm it all, the man in the flesh abruptly burst out of the forest on Minerva, more daring than she’d thought he’d be. Frightened, her horse reared up with a protest. Instinctively, she tightened her legs around him and held onto his mane to keep her balance. Sleipnir kicked the air with his front hooves, but Lucian remained unfazed, too comfortable around a horse to be intimidated. As soon as the animal was down again with a heavy ‘thud’, Lucian firmly grabbed the reins under Sleipnir’s jaw to prevent the escape Maeve was already considering.
Out of danger from an unfortunate fall, she allowed herself to glimpse at the man, her pulse wreaking havoc once more. Seeing him tore her heart in half. He was truly here, actually real, as mighty and alluring as he’d always been. But he wasn’t entirely the same either, his chiseled features even sharper than they’d been before, which somehow accentuated his scar. Food must have lost its appeal for him, just like it had for her.
“You are an even better rider than I thought,” were his first words.
“Have you gone completely mad?! You cannot be here, Lucian!”
“Maeve, I— I need to speak with you.”
“I don’t want you to.” To her distress, her voice was already growing weak, trembling, and uneven. Seeing him was bringing it all back, the love and the longing, but also the betrayal and the heartbreak. “Please, leave… I can’t—”
She tried to retake control of her mount while spurring him with her heels, but Lucian easily countered it, bringing his hand down and the reins with it.
“Maeve, darling, you have to listen to me,” he insisted. The endearment brought a new surge of tears to her eyes.
Before he could continue, voices came to them. Fear crawled under her skin as she recognized them. Her siblings were close by, seemingly heading their way. If they saw her with him, they would assume she was here of her own will, like an illicit encounter. That would only bring more anger and suspicions on her, and she couldn’t bear the idea. Her relationship with her parents was just getting better, and having to start all over would wreck her.
“Leave now,” she ordered. “If they see you— Lucian please, go!”
He hesitated, glancing toward the voices. “We passed a treehouse on our way here,” he declared instead. “Meet me there tonight. At midnight.”
“How dare you ask this of me? I’m not meeting you anywhere. Leave!”
“You still owe me an hour, Maeve. It’s been over two months. I’m demanding it now.”
Shock rendered her mute as she all but stared at him. Was he seriously expecting her to uphold the forfeit of their bet? After everything he’d done, he thought he had the right to demand it?
“You’re mad. You’ve gone completely mad,” she let out, her voice not much more than a whisper.
“Being away from you has done that to me,” he admitted with a humorless chuckle.
He released her reins and came closer to her, so they were facing each other side by side. He raised a delicate hand toward her face, and with a tender graze of his thumb, he brushed her cheek where the branch had whipped her. His touch was inflaming her, reminding her of how much she loved it when he caressed her with his powerful hands. Oh, how she missed him…
His eyes fell to her parted lips, and with the slightest gesture, he bent her way. Air remained stuck in her throat as she waited, longed even, for the kiss he was considering. She wanted it. Despite everything , she wanted his lips on hers.
He stopped his descent, though, his thumb still on her cheek. “One hour, at midnight, in the treehouse,” he insisted, giving her one last yearning caress.
She was still trying to sort her thoughts out when he left her alone, confused and disheartened. He was still in view when Liam called out her name.
“Vee, where have you been?!” he asked with authority.
They were all here but Rosie, and she looked down at her siblings with embarrassment. It seemed they were here to fish, each holding their rod, while Cam carried the box with the supplies. When she met her twin’s eyes, the judgment Maeve read in them made it clear she’d been right. This unwanted encounter with Lucian would bring her nothing but troubles.
“Who was that?” Ailia asked, her tone acerbic.
“It was— Someone who was lost. The man just needed some guidance to get to Leeds.”
Given the way Ailia’s eyebrow was raised, it wasn’t hard to guess the lie hadn’t been bought.
“Mother decided to delay dinner since some of the guests haven’t arrived yet,” Manning explained, oblivious to the tension between the twins. “So we thought we’d enjoy the last of the sun to fish. We don’t have a rod for you, but you can have mine if you want,” he kindly offered.
After one last look at her angered sister, Maeve shook her head with a forced smile. “Thank you, blondie, but I’d rather go back home. Sleip needs some rest, and I need a bath before dinner.” A few of her siblings tried to change her mind, but she maintained her ground. Before long, she was on her way toward the manor again.
Free of distractions, her mind instantly returned to Lucian.
What would she do about him? She couldn’t possibly comply with his demand and meet him in the treehouse in the middle of the night. Whatever it was he wanted to talk about, it wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Ailia’s attitude right now was all the confirmation she needed to know it would be a terrible thing.
Although brief, their encounter had shaken her to her core. Lucian, her Lucian, had come all the way here. He missed her as much as she missed him, and he wanted to talk to her urgently.
Being away from you has done that to me…
Torn and confused, Maeve spent the entire ride to the stable reminding herself of why she couldn’t go to him. No matter what he said, even if he managed to make her change her mind, she couldn’t forgive what he’d done. She loved her family too much to do such a thing.
So, what would be the point in meeting him tonight? What purpose would it serve other than break her heart even more? To cause another scandal the day before Ailia’s wedding?
No, she couldn’t. She mustn’t . For her sake and her family’s sake, she mustn’t go to Lucian tonight.
【45】…Desperate Measures
Lucian paced the length of the small treehouse yet again. When he reached the lamp oil, he used its warm glow to check on his pocket watch, as he’d done nearly every minute since he’d arrived. It was twenty minutes past midnight. She isn’t coming, he told himself.
Frustrated, he passed a hand over his face. Had he not been so impatient to see her, so eager to tell her the truth, he probably would have collapsed from fatigue. Especially since a corner of the perched cabin was full of covers, cushions, and pillows, like a tempting nest that beckoned him to lie down. Ever since his meeting with the Irishman, he’d been on his way to Langston manor. Had Minerva been able to withstand a faster pace, he might have made it in two days, rather than three and a half. But even at a more reasonable pace, the two hundred miles had exhausted him.
After some rest at the inn in the village nearby, he’d decided to come to the manor, hoping he could negotiate an audience with Maeve or one of her parents, aware it might not be granted. He’d been lost in his thoughts, trying to think of a way to secure the discussion he needed to have with her, when she’d suddenly materialized next to him, like a miracle.
Seeing her had unleashed a plethora of elated feelings in him, making him feel alive for the first time in weeks. But the horror on her face and the way she’d so swiftly tried to escape him had brought him back to reality. She still despised him, unaware that he hadn’t betrayed her in the end.
He wasn’t sure why he’d thought demanding the hour she owed him would work. At that moment, he’d been high on the race, on the vision she’d offered, and it was all he’d been able to come up with. But why would she respect the forfeit? The events that had occurred since their moment in Hyde Park trumped the bet ten times over.
With a long sigh, he paced the room once more. A crack came from the outside, but he ignored it. Ever since he’d arrived over an hour ago, the night had produced dozens of sounds out there, but none of them had been her. Leaning on the windows, he’d sought her silhouette in the night, to no avail. The moon was nearly full tonight, and while the treehouse wasn’t very high, it still offered good visibility around. Had she been on her way to him, he’d have seen her.
Well, if she wasn’t coming, he’d have to visit the manor and display the little diplomacy he had in him to get an audience like he’d originally wanted. And if none of them accepted to see him, he’d shout the truth from outside, over and over again, until she heard. Until she knew he hadn’t compromised her secrets, he hadn’t ruined everything after all.
When another cracking sound echoed, different from the ones he’d heard tonight, he turned to its origin inside the cabin. The oil lamp he’d brought with him lightened the place well, so he instantly saw when a head full of long dark hair appeared through the trapdoor. His heart pounded with intensity as he watched the back of Maeve’s elegant silhouette carefully climbing the wooden ladder that led to the rudimentary hut.
Her silky hair was arranged into a thick braid that rested on her shoulder, as it always was when she slept. Her slender figure was covered by a light blue dressing gown, and when her feet reached his sight, he noticed the slippers she was wearing. Coming all the way here in those must have been quite uncomfortable.
She didn’t turn to him right away, even though she ought to know he was there, giving the glow of the lamp she had probably seen from outside, and the incessant sound his heart was making. It was so loud to him, pulsing in his ears, that she must have heard it as well. Slowly, as if it took all the courage she held in her, she spun around, her eyes on the carpeted floor they stood on. A couple of seconds later, she forcefully willed her blue gaze to look up, seeking him.
She was so beautiful.
During their time apart, he’d almost forgotten just how stunning she was. At points, he’d doubted his memory of her, so incredibly perfect, so entirely flawless. But he’d been right, and as he admired her with awe, he was reminded once more that there would never be a woman more strikingly gorgeous than her. The only flaw that adorned the creamy skin of her face was the reddish line on her cheek, the one she’d gotten during their race in the forest out there.
“I don’t— I don’t know why I’m here,” she spoke, her voice small and uncertain as she averted her eyes. “I didn’t want to come. I decided I wouldn’t… But then I found myself buttoning my robe and climbing down the oak tree outside my room.”
“I’m thankful you came, my love.”
Pain flashed across her face, and from where he stood, he saw the way her body shuddered. “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head.
Her attention turned to the ladder, and when she put her hand on the opened hatch door to help herself climb down, Lucian quickly went to her. With a gentle but determined grip, he held her arm, preventing her escape.
“Please, Maeve, stay.”
She glanced down at his hand on her, and then up to his eyes. More sadness filled hers, but she eventually nodded, surprising him. When he would find the person responsible for all this, the one who’d sold the Langstons’ secrets to the press, he’d make their life hell. He’d make sure they suffered as much as his Maeve had. It was only justice.
“Please, don’t touch me,” she asked with tears in her eyes.
Ignoring the way his chest ached at her words, he released her and took a few steps back, giving her the space she needed. She walked away from the hatch as well, and went to the end opposite to him, distancing herself from him as much as the confined cabin allowed.
“I don’t know why you wanted me here, my lord, but I have to make clear that I won’t let my feelings—”
“I didn’t do it,” he cut her.
Maybe he should have brought the truth in a more elegant manner, but he couldn’t bear the way she looked at him, with so much doubt and ache. She had to know. She had to believe him, so she’d allow herself to love him again. So she’d forgive him, and give him a second chance.
More than anything, she had to believe him so she could become his and he’d become hers. Until death parted them.
Maeve wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten here. During the entirety of dinner, which had been a grand affair that had lasted until later than usual, she’d debated with herself, listing all the reasons she shouldn’t meet Lucian as he’d asked. The list was long, and the arguments in favor of the meeting were scarce.
And then she’d gone to bed, determined to remain in it until the sun rose again, because it was not only the proper thing to do but also the right one.
Sleep had eluded her, though, and her eyes kept traveling to the clock on her nightstand, next to the candle she hadn’t put out. When it had struck midnight, she’d congratulated herself, proud to have resisted the temptation. She wouldn’t let her emotions dictate her life any longer.
Because she’d succeeded, she’d decided it was time to sleep, and with her eyes closed, she’d done her best to summon Morpheus. But her mind was a treacherous trickster, and all she managed was to conjure more of him . She’d seen him again, after their heated chase earlier, the love in his eyes, the tenderness of his touch. She’d remembered the hope in his tone, and how alive she’d felt in his presence.
When she’d thrown the covers to the side to exit her bed, it was as though she’d lost control of her body. It was the same when she’d put on her robe and put on her slippers. She’d wondered what in God’s name she was doing as she stood on the stone banister of her balcony, gathering the courage she needed to jump on the oak’s branch. The beats of her heart were intense in her chest when the old tree rattled under her as she landed, but she’d ignored them to climb down its trunk.
Then her feet had brought her all the way to her siblings’ cabin, and she’d watched the lit interior for a moment, her breath catching in her throat every time she’d seen Lucian’s shadow pacing the floor in there.
As soon as she’d climbed up and seen him, the madness of her actions had struck her, and she’d wondered what had gotten into her. If anyone ever heard of this illicit encounter, her father would think her to be even more of a nitwit, Ailia would treat her like an unforgivable traitor, and her mother would give her more of those heavily disappointed looks.
But then he’d touched her, pleaded with her to stay with his beautiful eyes, and it had become clear that there was nothing she could refuse this man. Not when she still loved him so terribly.
Which was why she needed to set boundaries.
She was doing so when he cut her off. “I didn’t do it,” he asserted.
Confused, her brows frowned on their own. What was he talking about? Before she could ask him what he meant by that, he spoke again. “I never shared your secrets, Maeve. I’m not the reason why all this is happening.”
Something crawled under her skin as she processed his words. The feeling was a strange one, an unpleasant mix of hope and wariness. Was he lying to her? Had he decided she could be taken for a fool? That he could twist the truth and she’d just accept it?
“You admitted it,” she reminded him sourly. “You told me to my face you’d done it. Called it ‘an error of judgment’, even.”
“I was wrong. I couldn’t remember much of that night, and given the circumstances, I accepted it must have been me, and I did not cower and reject the blame. Maeve, I thought I’d done it, even though it made no sense that I would do such a thing, that I would betray your trust.”
Her puzzlement only grew worse, and she didn’t know what to believe, torn by the honesty in his familiar eyes. Her heart was pressing her to believe him, but her brain doubted his statement. She could still remember with crushing accuracy the day he’d confessed to doing this, to spilling her secrets to another man. The guilt within him, the forgiveness he’d been so adamant to earn, had scarred her, and it was hard to imagine that it had all been for nothing, that he hadn’t actually faulted like he now pretended.
“I don’t— I don’t believe you,” she forced herself to say. “What has changed? Why deny your actions now?”
“I’ve been trying to fix this ever since you left London. I went to the newspaper’s editor, and—”
“My father already tried that,” she cut him.
“I know, the man told me. But he also told me that the only way they’d retract the statement would be if the whistleblower came forward and claimed it was all false. So I… I looked for the man I thought I’d spoken to that night. It took longer than I thought, and when I did, he told me I was mistaken. That I hadn’t told him any of that. Just stories about the war, and some praises for my fiancée.”
Maeve did her best to process this new information, struggling to grasp how there could have been such an immense confusion. Could she believe it, really? That Lucian hadn’t told that man anything? That he’d never repeated her confessions to someone, even though he’d thought he had? And what if the man in question had lied to save himself?
“He could have been deceiving you,” she pointed out. “Maybe you did confide in him, and he did talk to the papers… But when you came, he pretended otherwise.”
“I promise, darling, he didn’t. I’m certain of it.”
Once more, there was something so absolute in Lucian’s tone, so truthful that every part of her longed to believe him. He’d been willing to face the consequences of his actions rather than slither his way out of it, because he was an honest man, and he couldn’t have been certain he hadn’t done it. But in light of this new information, because he’d found the man he’d thought responsible for the scandal, he now saw no point in carrying the blame.
Why would he, when he had the definite proof he’d done nothing?
Now that the truth was slowly starting to make its way into her mind, she realized what it all meant. Lucian hadn’t betrayed her. He hadn’t carelessly shared her secrets, showing her no consideration or respect. All those weeks of pain and tears had been over a misunderstanding, a false assumption.
The man before her, the man she loved, hadn’t done anything wrong, aside from mistakenly accepting the blame.
Tumultuous emotions wrecked her at once. Happiness, anxiety, hope, worry… She’d been suffering for nothing, ashamed to still love him, convinced she’d ruined her family for weeks. The way they’d treated her, the judgment, the disappointment… it has all been for nothing, and she hadn’t deserved it, just like Lucian hadn’t deserved her wrath. Yes, she’d broken a blood pact and a promise she’d upheld her entire life, but at least she’d done it with the right person. She’d confided in a man she’d believed she could trust, and she hadn’t been wrong to do so.
It seemed her body didn’t know how to handle all of this, overwhelmed and confused. Her breathing turned shallow as she struggled to sort her thoughts.
All of this for nothing…
Her eyes were down to the carpet on the floor when Lucian’s legs came into view. His hands reached up to frame her face, and he gently made her look up. Tears pooled in her eyes, ravaged by the sight of him, so handsome, so close, and so hers. He hadn’t betrayed her. He never would. She didn’t have to be ashamed of loving him anymore. She could be his, and he could be hers, because he hadn’t done anything wrong.
When she tried to speak, her clutched throat prevented it, and not being able to voice all she wanted was upsetting.
“Breathe, my love,” he whispered. “In… and out….”
She followed his instructions, inhaling and exhaling along with him, and it helped lower her panic attack. “But why— If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” she managed to say.
“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out, darling. I’m going to fix this, I promise.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, the editor wouldn’t give me a name, and I assumed it was the man from the pub. But I will find who did this and I’ll make them retract their claims.”
Tears flew down her cheeks before she could even understand what had conjured them. When she realized, she closed her eyes tightly. “It’s not enough,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Why? Don’t you believe me, Maeve? I promise I’m not lying. I didn’t do this.”
“I know. I do. I believe you, Lucian,” she replied, forcing herself to look at him. Her heart twinged when she saw the way his eyes glimmered with joy at her admission. “But… they won’t. My family won’t believe you.”
“I don’t care about your family, swan. All that matters is that you believe me.”
Elated, he bent down as he pulled her his way, claiming her lips with an eager kiss.
The rest of the world faded as she melted against him. She hadn’t thought they’d ever be doing this again, convinced their story was a thing of the past. But as his soft mouth was on hers, reminding her just how intensely she loved him, throwing her back to what they used to have, she allowed herself to take it all.
As it always did with them, the embrace became greedier, wilder, and before long, their tongues were adamantly exploring each other’s warmth, their hands pulling and tugging. Everything palpitated within her, into her head, her chest, and her lower stomach.
Lucian…
How could she have imagined, even for a moment, that she could live without him, without this? Without this man in it, life held no allure.
Because she couldn’t think clearly, she tore herself away from him, panting and trembling. Lucian refused to let go of her taste, though, so his mouth trailed soft kisses on her cheek, then down her neck, inflaming her further. She was feeling alive, more than she had in weeks. The love and devotion that seeped from each of his gestures and insistent kisses were filling the void he’d left behind, so much so that it was now overflowing within her.
“Lucian,” she moaned when his palm found her breast over the layers of her robe and her nightgown.
“I love you, Maeve,” he professed into her ear right before he nibbled on its lobe. “I love you so bloody much. Losing you was worse than losing a limb. It was as though I’d lost a piece of myself, a part of my soul.”
Had words ever sounded so glorious?
“I felt the same,” she admitted with a trembling whisper.
“Then marry me, darling. The mere idea of a lifetime without you, it’s… It’s killing me inside. I need you. I need you like I’ve never needed anything before.”
She wanted to say yes. She craved to say it, even. But despite the intensity of their embrace, despite his hands fondly touching her, his lips exploring the smooth surface of her throat, a rational part of her surfaced. They were getting ahead of themselves, and knowing that he wasn’t responsible for her family’s demise wasn’t enough. Far from it.
“Lucian, wait,” she begged. He didn’t hear her, too lost in the moment, but she repeated the words, softly pushing on his shoulder. It didn’t take much more for him to release her, and she glanced up at his tousled hair, his reddened cheeks, and shiny eyes.
“I can’t do this to my family,” she explained. “I believe you, I really do. But… They won’t believe us. They’ll think we’re lying, doing anything we can to have what we want.”
“I don’t care if they do, as long as I get to have you.”
“But I care, Lucian. To them, you’re responsible for what’s happening to us. And as long as the true culprit isn’t unmasked, you’ll remain the sole reason for it. They know I told you our secrets the very night before it appeared in the paper. Nothing will make them change their minds unless there’s undeniable proof of your innocence. Even you were convinced you’d done it. They believe it just as much.”
She could see on his face that he was grasping the predicament they were in. Choosing him would mean renouncing her family. Even if he was innocent, they’d believe him guilty, and they would forsake Maeve for siding with him rather than her own blood. Or at least, her relationship with them would forever be damaged, never to be the same again.
“I will find who did it,” he promised. “I’ll find them and bring them myself to your father, so he can see by himself that it wasn’t me.”
“Do you have any leads?” she asked, full of hope.
The way his face closed up, terribly serious and gloom, told her he had no idea where to start. It could have been anyone who’d attended that ball when she’d told him about her parents, either guests or staff. It could even be someone from before her confession, and the whole thing was just the fruit of terrible timing.
Without the editor’s cooperation, uncovering who’d sold him the information would be the same as finding a needle in a haystack.
“Are you sure you can find who did it?” she insisted, tears rising once more. She hoped with all her heart he would say yes. Instead, he wiped away a stranded tear and gazed down at her with uncertainty. Gravely, he shook his head, causing her heart to clutch painfully.
“What if you never find them, Lucian?”
“Let’s not think of that for now,” he murmured with tender intensity. “Let us think of what if I do find them.” With that, he retook her lips.
He was right. They were together again, despite everything. And for as long as the night would last, she’d rather imagine they had a future together. That it would all be all right in the end.
As she allowed him to engulf her in his arms one more and treasure her with his affections, Maeve let go of her worries. All that mattered for now was that she knew, that she could be free of loving him without any shame.
【46】Warmest Goodbyes
As she pressed herself further into his arms, Lucian sensed all the weeks of pain and hardship dissipate. With every insistent touch of her lips, grazes of her tongue, and pulls of her hands, he was growing lighter and lighter, the weight on his shoulders disappearing.
She didn’t loathe him any longer. Now that she knew the truth, Maeve wouldn’t look at him with resentment anymore.
Despite his doubts, she’d come to him tonight. It meant a part of her had never truly forsaken him, still tender where he was concerned. And now… now he was holding her, ravishing her with passionate attentions.
This had never been the plan. He’d never meant for them to get lost in their need and desire for one another. All he’d wanted had been to speak with her, to earn her forgiveness. But now that it was happening, now that her soft shapes were against him, his hands coursing over her delectable body over the few layers of her attire, Lucian couldn’t hold back and be reasonable.
He’d missed her terribly. And not just the physical aspect of her, but her mind most of all. Her fierceness, her witty mouth, her strong-headedness. But also the vulnerability and the candor that lay behind her combative spirit.
Lost in their embrace, they stumbled together, out of balance. Pain shot into his bad leg as he struggled to keep them from tripping over, and a groan passed from his mouth to hers. She must have detected it, because she pulled away from him, seeking his eyes with hers.
“Is it your knee? Is it hurting again?”
“Yes… Losing you has been my own version of hell, and… I haven’t been taking good care of myself lately. My old injury has deteriorated to the way it was months ago — before we were acquainted.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, planting her ravishing eyes into his.
“It wasn’t your fault, my love. All that matters is that things are back to the way they used to be.”
His own version of Heaven.
Her eyebrows twisted with uncertainty, her mouth opening as if to protest. But she remained mute before him, and his chest tightened to an unpleasant pressure.
“Lucian, I… We can’t keep doing what we were doing before. My family was never fooled, and we could only meet because they allowed it, for some ludicrous reason.”
He grimaced with embarrassment and looked away. “I’m aware, yes. Your mother made it clear when she called on me.”
“She visited you?”
“Yes, she wanted to make sure I would do right by you.”
“This is what worries me,” she said with a wince. “They knew. And if we try to do it again, they’ll know once more. We can’t… We can’t keep seeing each other like that.”
“So, what does it mean?” He feared he already knew the answer, but in case he was wrong, he needed her to answer.
“It means we have tonight. And then… only God knows. You have to find who did this, Lucian. You have to clear your name so we can be together.”
Her tone was imploring, just like her eyes, and her inner turmoil seemed to match his. Her argument made sense, and he understood why resuming their forbidden affair wasn’t possible. But that didn’t mean he liked any of it. Not one bit.
Right then, he promised himself he’d find the bastard who’d spoken to the paper. He’d find them if it was the last thing he did. Nothing would keep him apart from her, and he’d have no rest until he could claim her again.
As if to seal a pact, he bent over and kissed her pink lips. All had been said, so they didn’t speak, only focusing on the passion that consumed them, the love that bound them together.
Before they could lose their balance again, she pulled him to a corner of the treehouse, where the pile of pillows and covers awaited. There was something in the air, the lingering reminder that this might be their last night together. Even though he’d asked her to only think of their future if he unmasked the one responsible for the predicament they found themselves in, they couldn’t entirely dismiss the eventuality that he wouldn’t.
That truth altered their moves, conflicted between their eagerness to possess one another and their desire to make it last and take their time.
Her hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, and he raised his to help her unfasten the buttons. Because of the late hour, he hadn’t bothered with a tie or a jacket, aware that he wouldn’t cross anyone’s path but hers. As soon as the garment was open enough, she pulled the fine fabric out of the waist of his pants and adroitly lifted it. He was forced to let go of her to remove it, and by the time he was done, she was untying the knot that held her robe closed.
Seconds later, after it had fallen around her to form a pool of silk at her feet, he was fisting the thin fabric of her nightgown, making it rise to her waist. Impatient to enjoy more of her smooth and creamy skin, he caressed the roundness of her hips before lowering his hands to the plumpness of her bottom.
“Say you love me again,” she whispered against his lips. Moved by her request, he pulled away just enough to gaze into her mesmerizing eyes.
“I love you, my darling. I should have— I should have told you sooner; I should have told you every single day from the moment I realized. But… I guess some part of me was worried to admit it, worried I’d make a fool of myself if you decided to end our affair for someone more deserving of you than I am.”
She huffed, as if the notion itself was ludicrous. “Lucian, I don’t even deserve you. I’m the Black Swan, remember? The harpy no one could possibly want. And you’re a war hero; a man who single-handedly saved all of Europe from Napoleon’s tyranny.”
“It’s not quite what happened,” he corrected her, amused by her version of the events.
“I don’t care.” Adamant, she pulled him toward her, forcing him down as she lay down on the cushioned mess. “We belong to one another, both too selfish and judgemental, both despising crowds and frivolities. I can’t believe I loathed you in the beginning. We’re so alike in the end.”
With a hand clasping his nape, she brought him down onto her, nested between her parted legs. As they kissed like it was their last night together — which it might be — he had to admit that she was right. Those things that made her so unique echoed within him because he understood and accepted her flaws like they were his own. Because they were. No other woman would ever match him as perfectly as she did.
His weight was on her as their hands explored each other’s bodies with loving greediness. He’d managed to pull her gown all the way to her breasts, unveiling their perky tips to his eyes. It prompted him to let go of her delectable mouth to give them the attention they begged for. As he welcomed one of the dark pink buds between his lips, she arched with a sigh. The sounds of her would forever stay with him, and he hoped they wouldn’t become a distant memory, but a delightful litany he’d hear for the rest of his life.
She struggled to remove her gown entirely, but he gave her no assistance, too absorbed by her flavor and the irregular texture of her nipples on his tongue. Her taste, too, would haunt him. Determined to get more of her flavor, his mouth journeyed down her stomach. Its destination was soon reached, and he regretted that the oil lamp wasn’t closer, as he could see most of her, but not the shiest details of her slippery lips and folds.
Still, the sight of her intimacy was one he couldn’t resist, and before he could regret the lighting any longer, he brought his mouth to the temptation before him. He licked her from bottom to top, reveling in the slickness of her, in the arousal he’d conjured. The flavor of her juices, so earthy and so her , brought him one step closer to madness, his erection throbbing and painful, straining against the fabric of his pants. Damn it, he’d have to make her come fast, or he’d humiliate himself by finding his release like this.
The sudden urgency compelled him to seek the small pearl that would make her lose it in minutes. His tongue found it easily, round and smooth, already swollen, but far from how much it could become.
“Ah, Lucian…” she moaned, her hips tilting to shove her intimacy harder onto his face.
“You taste so bloody good, Maeve,” he grunted, barely letting go of her.
Like a starving man, he circled that sensitive part of her and gently sucked it into his mouth, dragging another moan out of hers. Her fingers weaved themselves in his hair as he flicked his tongue right over it, amazed by her sensitivity. Weeks without his ministrations had rendered her more receptive than usual.
Just as he was getting into it, drawing effective patterns on her with the tip of his tongue, her hand in his hair pushed against him. “Lucian, wait,” she protested.
Worried he’d done something wrong, he let go of her and looked up, meeting her hooded gaze. “I want… I want you inside of me. I want to feel stretched, to have the ache of you linger in me.”
His brows furrowed at her request. He was worried he’d hurt her, especially since she’d been abstinent for a while. And he was so painfully hard, he knew he was as thick and long as he could get, offering no mercy to her tightness. But he also understood why she’d want this, and he would probably have a similar desire if he could. She wanted to feel him even after tonight, to be reminded of him every time she sat, the memory of his cock imprinted on her flesh.
Because of their multiple rendezvous, Maeve was far from the virgin she’d once been, and he trusted that she was comfortable and confident enough to know what she wanted, what she could endure. If she wanted him to stretch her, to leave her with a lasting ache, then he ought to give that to her.
He was also dying to enter her, so his need for her altered his mindfulness.
In a fluid motion, he rolled to the side, higher on the cushion so he was lying next to her, and busied himself with the fastening of his breeches. Unbothered by her nakedness, Maeve moved to kneel by his feet and pulled on his right boot.
“I want to see all of you, to engrave the memory of you in my mind,” she explained. So, just like him, she was aware that this might be their last encounter, that they might never have another occasion to be with one another like this.
Lucian dismissed the gloom thought, focusing on her instead, on the firmness of her breasts, the smoothness of her skin… And the damn buttons holding his pants in place. With the help of her dexterous hands, he was as bared as she was in seconds.
Still by his feet, she bent forward, her long braid falling over her shoulder, its soft texture caressing his leg. With the most tender touch, she pressed her plump lips on the messy scar that adorned his knee. In the gesture, he sensed all the love and devotion she held for him, her poignant intensity aiming to heal him, to ease some of his pain away.
Because she was a torturous nymph, put on this earth to torment him, she then laid a series of pecks along his leg, slowly moving up until she reached his cock. His obscenely swollen length received more kisses, throbbing under her mouth. When she gave the crease under its head a long lick, he nearly jolted, sensing some arousal seep from his tip.
“Fucking hell, Maeve. If you want me to last, you need to stop this right now,” he warned with a growl.
When she looked up, he witnessed sadness in her blue gaze. “I wish we had more time.”
Affected by her melancholia, he gently grazed her cheek with a thumb. “Me too, darling. I wish we had a lifetime. But we have now — tonight. Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
She nodded bravely, and just as he was about to pull her up, she moved by herself to kiss him. While their mouths were busy, she arranged her position to straddle him, framing his hips with her thighs. She sent her hand between them before he could, and then came the damp touch of her molten entrance, right on his cock.
“I love you,” she professed against his mouth. He reciprocated the declaration as she lowered herself onto him, welcoming his aching shaft into her wetness.
They moaned in unison, his one of pure bliss, hers veiled by the unpleasantness of his imposing size. But before he could worry, she pushed further, inviting more of him in with a moan that was more rapturous this time. She quickly overcame her discomfort, swaying her hips with languorous moves to take him in and out.
Being inside her again felt like a dream. Ever since he’d met with her following the debacle, he’d been convinced he’d lost her forever, that she’d never allow such intimacies again, that she couldn’t possibly love him anymore. But as he lost himself in her warm and snug wetness, he felt compelled to thank whatever god had made it happen.
Maeve, the beautiful, clever, and feisty Maeve, was still his. Her heart still belonged to him, which made up for her owning his.
When she broke their kiss to straighten up, pressing her hands on his chest to level herself and use him for support, he used the opportunity to admire every detail of her. The flushness of her face, the twisting of her delicate eyebrows as pleasure began to overwhelm her. His eyes then lowered to her swan-like neck, slim and long, and the two humble masses of her breasts below, swaying with her momentum. Underneath, her tight stomach and the perfect navel in the middle of it. And when he looked even further south, the dark curls that modestly hid that part of her, the ones that met with his every time she impaled herself all the way onto his shaft. Which he could see, slick with her arousal, appearing and disappearing in rhythm.
Lying in the middle of the pillows and covers, he suddenly felt like the most blessed and the most cursed of men. How cruel was it that he might lose her forever? That this might be the last time he’d ever see her this way, rapturous with love and passion? But also, how lucky he’d been to even witness this? To know her this way, to have seen the spectacle of her perfection?
“I want to come inside of you,” he impulsively declared. “I want to fill you with my seed, so much of it that you’ll feel it pouring in your womb, that it’ll drip out of you in lustful streams. And I want you to be pregnant from it so we don’t have a choice but to marry, so I’d have you despite everything.”
“Lucian,” she whimpered, half in protest, half in approval.
“Are you sure you’re not with child yet?”
“Yes. My bleedings came about two weeks ago.”
That fact displeased him, and he barely recognized himself there. What kind of primal, possessive man would wish such a thing? But it seemed she was dissatisfied with it, too. Because a part of her knew he was right.
If she was expecting his child, her parents would have no other choice but to accept him as her husband. The scandal of her giving birth while being unmarried was as dangerous as the revelations about their family. If she was pregnant, then to hell with their disliking of him. They’d tolerate the marriage for the sake of the reputation they had left.
Maeve was still pushing her hips up and down, swinging them forward with each thrust to take all of him. He was sensing himself getting closer to his release, subdued by her channel and the involuntary clenching of it that came now and then. More and more, the idea of coming inside her, filling her to the brinks with cum, was making its way into his mind. He almost regretted how careful he’d been during their month together, making sure not to conceive.
Now, there was nothing he wanted more than that.
His hands rose from the smoothness of her thighs all the way to her hips, and he wrapped his fingers around the curve of it. His grip was firm, his fingertips digging into the soft skin, helping sparsely with the momentum she maintained.
When her own hand reached between them, to touch herself where they joined, a flash of arousal made him buck underneath her. This was new. She’d never taken care of her own pleasure this way before, and he wondered what it meant. Had she been touching herself since their separation? Had she lain in her bed, doing to herself the things she wanted him to do to her?
His questions were dismissed as the rhythm of her hips became slightly chaotic, as if she wasn’t fully in control anymore. Her nose scrunched, another sign of her incoming release, and his hold on her hips tightened. He sat up, spreading his knees to allow her to lower herself onto him. She didn’t hesitate to claim his lips, moaning in his mouth with each thrust.
Around his cock, he could feel her spasm more regularly, every contraction tighter than the previous one. Fuck, he wouldn’t last much longer than her. But at least she’d come first — which was the bare minimum, but it was still something.
Her exquisite moans turned into faint cries, just as pleasing to his ears. In utter awe, he witnessed as she came undone against him, her walls spasming around him, her hands clenching over his shoulders as she held onto him for support.
That was too much for him. He couldn’t resist the call of her orgasm, his own about to erupt. What felt like a roar came out of him, and using the strength of his arms, he lowered her onto his shaft, holding her in place. She tried to resist him, to push herself up, to rise on her knees, but he forbade it.
“Lucian!” she protested. “Lucian, please…”
Torn, he met her pleading gaze, using every last drop of his restraint not to come. Despite her conflicted mood, she was still spasming around him, still in the aftermath of her orgasm, and that would give him just what he needed to find his release.
“You have to let me go,” she begged, tears pooling in her eyes as she tried once more to lift herself off him.
As she’d said before, they were both selfish people, and he wanted nothing more than to give themselves this chance, than to impregnate her and use the excuse to be with her. While he held respect for the duke and appreciated the duchess, he didn’t care about their opinion. Not if the price for their hatred was having their daughter.
But he cared about Maeve. So much more than he cared about himself. And if he did this, if she became pregnant with his child, their union would tear her from her family, breaking the half of her heart that wasn’t his. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want their marriage to begin with regret and tears of sadness.
“Lucian, please… Let me go,” she implored once more.
“Never,” he roared.
Just as he was about to erupt inside of her, reason took over his mad desires, and he harshly lifted her off of his cock, the first spurt of his cum jutting out the instant he was freed. More of it came, splashing on his lower abdomen as his shaft fell upward, deprived of her tight heat.
She remained over him, a conflicted tear rolling down her cheek as he came with grunts and jolts. It was as though his mind was split, ripped into two opposing halves. He’d done the right thing by respecting her wishes, but the wrong one to secure his. As more tears fell down her beautiful face, he realized she’d wished the same as him, and had only listened to reason — as he’d done.
They’d risked their future together in favor of doing the right thing.
It was only when she brushed his cheek with a soft finger that he realized he was crying as well. Both her hands framed his face, and she bent forward to kiss him tenderly. Her lips tasted of tears and regrets. It felt like a goodbye, like a helpless farewell, and Lucian wasn’t ready for that yet.
He’d find whoever sold the Langstons’ secrets to the press, no matter the cost. And once everything was sorted, he’d claim this woman as his, and show the world he was hers.
No matter the cost.
【47】Sisterly Bond
Maeve felt as though her life had become purposeless. The night she’d spent with Lucian, the tender moments they’d shared in the treehouse, would remain with her until the day she died.
Everything had been so intense yet melancholic, as if they’d known they were living in a memory instead of the present. Their story had been granted a few extra hours, and only God knew if there would be more in the future.
As she aimlessly walked the hallway of the manor, struggling to find what she needed to do about the overwhelming sadness within her, she relieved their brief encounter.
After she’d made love to him, the ending of it tearful and poignant, they’d lay on the covers for a moment, talking about the future they so terribly wanted. Lucian had seemed tired, but he’d fought through it to make their night last as long as possible. After a short break, he’d made love to her with tender intensity. As she’d asked, he’d forced himself to pull out at the last moment, protecting her and her family from further scandal.
His fatigue had gotten the best of him soon after, and she’d watched him for a moment as he slept by her side. She’d allowed herself to rest as well, aware it might be the last time she’d sleep in his embrace. Chirping birds had woken her in the early hours of the day, the sky barely lighting up, and she’d lingered a little longer to observe him one last time.
Because saying goodbye would have hurt too much, she’d carefully slipped away from his strong arms and had quietly gotten dressed. After one last longing look at his sleeping shape, she’d gotten down the ladder, ready to get back to her room.
She hadn’t bothered climbing the oak tree again, entering through the main door on the lake side, and had returned to her chambers, silent tears drenching her cheeks.
Now, after she’d woken up alone and miserable, and after a bath to get rid of the traces of him before someone noticed, she didn’t know what to do with her crushing emotions.
They deserved better than that. Better than this unfair destiny.
With everything she had, she hoped Lucian would find who’d done this to them. She hoped he’d find them and make them pay for all the pain they’d caused.
Without realizing it, Maeve’s feet carried her to Ailia’s room. Despite everything that had happened between them, she needed her twin. Of all the people in this world, no one knew her better than her sister, no one understood her like she did. They’d been drifting apart for months now, even though they’d gotten close again at some point. But between Ailia’s engagement and the assumption that Lucian had betrayed their secrets, Maeve barely felt a connection to her sister anymore.
And because of the wedding tomorrow which would take Ailia away from her, she might never feel close to her twin ever again. The idea pained her, causing her heart to clench into her chest. It was unacceptable that their close sisterhood should end like this.
Impulsively, she opened the door without knocking, determined to talk to her sister before it was too late. As expected, Ailia was there, getting ready for lunch. Both she and her maid turned around to see who’d barge in like this. While the maid offered Maeve a bow and a smile, Ailia’s expression turned cold and she twisted back to face the tall mirror.
“Would you mind giving us a moment?” Maeve asked the maid.
After a quick, uncertain look toward her sister — who gave her a nod — the maid curtsied slightly and walked to the door.
“What do you want?” Ailia dryly asked once they were alone.
“ Binak , I… I wanted us to talk. I despise the idea that after tomorrow, we’ll barely see each other anymore.“ Although Ailia tried to keep a straight face, Maeve knew her twin too well not to notice the pinch of regret that flashed across her face. “I understand why you’re mad at me; I really do. But please, let us be sisters again. We have so little time left before Everson takes you away…”
After a moment of reflection, Ailia offered her a conflicted gaze. “If you truly wanted us to remain on good terms, you wouldn’t have broken a blood pact literal minutes after we’d made it.”
“You broke a pact first,” Meave reminded her. That didn’t fail to anger Ailia.
“I broke it out of love!”
“So did I! I couldn’t bear the idea of lying to Lucian about this. He had to know the truth.”
“Are you saying I don’t love Thomas, then? Since I would have never told him?”
“No, that isn’t what I meant,” Maeve replied with a grimace. “I don’t know how to explain it, binak … Lucian’s different. He’s my everything.”
“What happened to the woman who claimed men were all pigs, so we didn’t need them?” Ailia’s tone was bitter, distrusting.
“She met one that wasn’t. This man he— I’d trust him with my life, Ailia. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Well, look at how that turned out…”
“He didn’t do it.”
“This again?” Ailia mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “He admitted he’d done it, Vee. How can you defend him when he isn’t even defending himself?”
“He was wrong. He thought he did, and because he’s a man of honor, he decided to accept the blame. But it wasn’t him. Please, trust me on that one. He all but fell on his sword with that matter.”
Doubtful, Ailia didn’t speak at first, gauging her twin in search of any trace of lies. But since there weren’t any, Maeve held her inquisitive gaze with confidence.
“How would you even know that?” Ailia asked, squinting her eyes. Maeve wasn’t sure what to say, so she remained mute, holding back a wince. They’d been isolated up here for weeks. There was no way to explain how she’d gotten this new piece of information.
Something clicked in her twin’s eyes, suddenly struck by an epiphany. “I knew it!” she claimed. “The man you were speaking with yesterday, by the lake… It was Worthington, wasn’t it?!”
“It was,” Maeve admitted with a guilty nod. “I had no idea he was coming. He just… appeared.”
“And you entertained him?”
Maeve sighed, unsure she’d manage to convince her sister that Lucian truly wasn’t the reason for their ongoing torment. But she still tried. For half an hour, the two spoke, and she did everything she could to regain her sister’s trust. She told her everything, even her encounter with Lucian the night before. As she unveiled it all, she could sense that Ailia’s reluctance to believe her was slowly fading.
Eventually, Ailia sat back in the armchair she was seated in, letting everything sink for a moment. “So, you’re telling me we might never know who threw our family to the wolves?” she asked, quite stunned.
“We might find out. Lucian is probably on his way back to London to figure it out.”
“Who would do that?” Ailia sounded positively appalled. “And is it only a money thing, or was it to get back at us somehow?”
“I have no idea, binak . It might be someone who heard when I spoke to Lucian, guest or servant. It could even be someone who knew the Langstons’ secrets from before, one of Father’s sisters or Grandmother.”
“They wouldn’t do this. They care about us.”
“I don’t think they did it either, but they might have told someone at some point.”
“Whoever it is, I hope Worthington will find them. Father will make them pay.”
“If Lucian leaves anything behind, that is.”
“Oh, I so hope he finds the bastard,” Ailia declared, riled up.
Maeve offered her a small smile. “Me too.”
Remembering that her twin’s motivation went beyond a simple desire for revenge, Ailia gave her arm a compassionate squeeze. “If… Even if we never find out who did this, you might still get your happy ending, Vee. Mother and Father aren’t the kind to hold grudges. Maybe they would accept a marriage between you and Worthington in a couple of years,” she hopefully explained.
The thought had crossed Maeve’s mind already. Because it was all so recent, their parents’ emotions were raw, and the resentment they had for Lucian was intense. But with time, they’d let go of it to some extent, and they might accept Lucian more easily than they would now.
But two years sounded like such a terribly long wait to finally be reunited with the man she loved…
In desperate need for a change of topic, Maeve asked her sister a question about the wedding arrangements. Ailia was more than happy to talk about that instead, and she filled her twin on the latest news.
Although nothing was solved regarding her romantic life, Maeve’s mood was improved by her reconciliation with Ailia. Her life might be in shambles at the moment, at least she’d have a few hours with her sister before she’d be ripped away from her. Thankfully, the groom was being held up in London, sorting some personal affairs that couldn’t wait, and he’d either arrive late in the evening, or early the next morning. That meant Ailia was all hers for now.
Shortly after lunch, the Langston family was gathered in their private parlor while the guests had either retired to their room for some rest or were enjoying the estate’s commodities. Little Rosie was quietly having a tea party with her nanny, Ophelia and William were playing a game of checkers, and Cameron was over the large world map displayed on a wall, showing the places he wanted to visit to Manning. The duke and the duchess were occupying a small sofa in a retreated corner, and the duchess was slowly falling asleep, half-sprawled over her husband.
As for herself, Maeve had dug out her embroidery accessories from the bottom of a trunk, and was working on a handkerchief. While she held a certain talent for the craft, forced to learn this skill when she was younger, she didn’t particularly enjoy it. But this time, it was different. She wanted to do something nice for Lucian, something she’d pour her love in, and that he would keep close to his heart, to remind him of her.
The design was intricate and would take her many hours, but it wasn’t as though she had much else to do. She would embroider a black swan, as well as a few lavender flowers, her favored scent, and then she would write ‘For my love,’ in cursive letters. It might have been a little sentimental, but she was certain Lucian would appreciate the gesture.
Just done with another flower, she presented it to Ailia for approval. Her twin lifted her eyes from her own handkerchief, which she was making for her soon-to-be husband, and nodded at Maeve’s design. “I love how you did the leaves.”
“I will show you when I’m doing the next one,” Maeve offered. Ailia agreed before returning to her own work.
Their little oasis of calm was interrupted minutes later by three knocks on the door. “Enter,” their father called, stirring their mother out of her slight slumber.
The door opened, revealing the butler. “My lord, the Schwarzes have arrived.”
Out of all the guests, those were the most awaited. And it was made rather obvious by the way everyone abruptly stopped what they were doing. Following the duke’s order, the newcomers were brought to the parlor. The twins were delighted to be reunited with Anita, the duke and the duchess embraced the composer like family, while Cameron and Manning quickly dragged Edmond — Anita’s younger brother — to the billiard room.
Before long, Maeve, Ailia, and Anita were on their way outside, heading for the lake. Not minding if anyone might see them, they lay down on the wooden pontoon, enjoying the warm sun.
“We cannot stay here for more than an hour,” Ailia warned. “I refuse to be as red as a strawberry on my wedding day.”
Anita was the first to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Ailia, you’ll have no more than a pretty glow.”
“You’ll look like an innocent maiden, and your husband will be positively ravenous,” Maeve added.
“Can you even look like an innocent maiden anymore?” her twin teased back. Maeve shoved her elbow into her side, slightly reprimanding.
Anita knew about her illicit encounter with Lucian, since she’d been in on it, serving as an alibi. So the problem wasn’t much about spilling the secret, but rather bringing this painful topic back.
“What happened, by the way?” Anita asked after a few moments had passed. “I thought you were supposed to marry him tomorrow as well.”
“Well… We had to call off the engagement.”
“Because of the… article?” None of the twins answered, unsure what to say. Despite being their closest friend, Anita didn’t know the truth. Or so they thought. “My father told me, by the way.”
Maeve and Ailia turned to each other, exchanging a conflicted look.
“He didn’t quite tell me, actually,” Anita continued. “But I figured out, given how he reacted to the article. And when I asked him, he told me how he was there the day your father met your mother.”
“I’m sorry we never told you, Annie,” Maeve started. “Trust me when I say we wanted to, but—”
“It’s all right, Vee. I understand why you couldn’t. What happened is proof that you had to be as careful as possible. I wrote you maybe ten letters saying I understood since you left London, but I never sent them. I wanted to say it in person. You two have always accepted me like one of you, never seeing me as inferior. And that’s all that matters, not what’s in your blood.”
Maeve reached for her friend’s hand, and as she looked, she saw her sister had done the same. She wished they could have remained here the entire afternoon until well into the evening, so they could ignore the ball tonight.
But given the tense situation her family found itself in, they all had to socialize and entertain the rest of the guests. So, after a little under an hour on the pontoon, the trio rose from the wooden planks and returned to the manor.
The wedding ceremony would occur early in the afternoon the next day, then two more days of celebrations would follow before Ailia and her new husband left for their honeymoon in Italy.
And then… Then Maeve would be alone again.
People had gathered on the paved forecourt in front of the small chapel north of the manor. For centuries, this had been the place where Langstons had gotten married. Even her parents had renewed their vows there, a few months after their wedding.
Ailia was already inside, getting ready with a maid and the seamstress, and Maeve was growing anxious. Between the crowd, the stress of losing her sister soon, and the awareness that this should have also been her marriage, she was restless, her stomach twisted in knots.
Everything in her wanted to leave, explaining she wasn’t feeling well, but she held back. Ailia needed her by her side, and Maeve would regret it if she wasn’t there for her sister’s wedding.
Thankfully, Anita was with her, her arms slipped under her, and the support of her blonde friend was enough to help Maeve regulate her breath. She could still hear Lucian when he helped her come down from a panic attack. Look at me, Maeve… In… Out…
Would he have done it today? If she’d been about to marry him, she might have panicked at some point. Not because of the man she chose, but because she would be the center of attention of all these people. Yes, Lucian certainly would have known how to soothe her, his hypnotizing green eyes locked into her as he breathed slowly and steadily.
In need of a distraction, Maeve looked around, seeking a familiar face. The first one she found brought no comfort, but before she could look away, John Delawney met her gaze. They looked at each other for a moment, and he bowed his head with a small smile. She saluted him in the same manner, so did Anita, before looking away.
Maeve continued the scanning of the guests, recognizing most of them. When her eyes crossed Ackley’s, she answered his eerily smile with nothing but coldness. A little further, her father was mingling with three men who were around his age, and her mother was entertaining a small group of peers. The rest of her siblings were doing the same, and Maeve wondered why she was the only one so socially handicapped. It wasn’t fair that even her entire family would be more comfortable in this setting than she was.
Out of nowhere, the tendrils on the back of her head rose upright, a tingly sensation crawling up her spine. Following her instinct, she twisted around, still holding Anita’s arm. As if drawn, her eyes seemed to know exactly what she was looking for.
Utter shock struck her, her breath catching in her throat. Next to her, Anita turned as well, searching for what had seized her attention. The loud gasp she released told Maeve she wasn’t imagining it. It wasn’t a trick of her mind.
The green-eyed giant was actually here.
【48】Sorrowful Celebrations
For the sixth time since he’d arrived at the small chapel, Lucian told himself that his brilliant idea was, in fact, the opposite of brilliant. Maybe he should have followed his original instinct and gone back to London.
But upon waking up alone after his night with Maeve, something had rebelled at the thought of being so far away from her. So, instead of doing the right thing, he’d decided to linger up north, with the hope that he might see her one last time. And there wouldn’t be another opportunity like this before a while, mixing among the guests gathered for her sister’s wedding. Which should have been their wedding as well.
Alas, he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he’d wished, given that he stuck out like a sore thumb, taller than everyone else in attendance. Between that and his limp, his cane, and his sour mood, people could hardly miss him. It was probably why Maeve had found him so easily despite the crowd, her inquisitive gaze falling on him minutes after he’d arrived.
The utter shock and worry that had appeared on her delicate face had confirmed that his presence here might be more problematic than he’d thought. In all fairness, the likelihood that the duke would cause a scandal because of him was slim. Certainly, Maeve’s father wouldn’t be thrilled to see him here, but he was too well-mannered to make a scene with so many witnesses present. More gossip was the last thing the Langston family needed at the moment.
So, in an effort to avoid a public fracas, Lucian kept an eye on the duke, adamant to see when he’d notice him. It would be better if Lucian anticipated the confrontation that would surely come.
“You look terrible,” a familiar voice said from behind him.
Startled, Lucian turned around to face the voice’s owner. It felt like months had passed since he’d last seen his oldest mate. The sight of John first brought this sense of remorse he’d gotten used to by now, highly aware that he’d played his ginger friend for weeks. But the lack of resentment in John’s eyes confused Lucian, which held him back from answering.
“I would ask how you’ve been,” John continued, “but from the looks of it, I’d guess restless, eaten by guilt, and desperately lonely.”
Still uncertain of what was happening, Lucian offered him a wince. “And you’d be right on all counts.”
As he shook his head, John looked away, his eyes halting at a very specific person. Lucian knew who was there, so he followed his friend’s gaze to glimpse at Maeve, still standing over there with her blonde companion, the composer’s daughter.
“John, I… I want to apologize again for what I did to you,” he started, turning back to his friend. “I handled this whole thing quite terribly, but my intentions were never to hurt you. I got lost along the way, and to be perfectly honest, I was rather confused by my feelings for her. It took me a long time to accept that something was growing between us, and by the time I did, it was already too l—”
“You were right,” John interrupted him.
“About what?”
“My interest in Lady Maeve wasn’t what I made it up to be. I didn’t realize it then, though. It took me a moment to figure it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said it yourself. I wasn’t in love with her. I fancied her, appreciated her, and even coveted her. But the fondness I felt toward her wasn’t as romantic as I believed it was.”
Lucian took a few seconds to reply, wondering where his friend’s sudden clarity came from. Whatever had pushed John to realize and accept his entanglement with Maeve, he was thankful for it.
“Did something happen?” Lucian asked.
“You could say that, yes. And if it hadn’t, seeing you just now would have opened my eyes. If this is the look of scorned love,” John explained, taking in Lucian’s state, “then I’m confident I’ve never been this desperately infatuated with Lady Maeve.”
Despite the vagueness of the answer, Lucian perceived something in John’s tone, a subtle variation that betrayed what he was holding back.
“You met someone,” Lucian confidently declared.
“Not exactly, since I already knew her. But we’ve gotten closer in the past few weeks, and it has clarified that what I thought was love wasn’t.”
“Are you in love with this woman, then?”
“I think so, yes.”
John looked toward the women again, and this time, Lucian caught something in his eyes he hadn’t seen the first time. Eager to confirm his suspicions, he turned to Maeve and her friend. Sure enough, the petite blonde was looking back at them with the same kind of fondness in her eyes.
“Is the woman in question Anita Schwartz?” Lucian asked, stunned.
“It is,” John replied with unmasked amusement. “As you may remember, she and I spent quite a bit of time together this Season. Which I now realize is probably because you and Lady Maeve often disappeared together, leaving the two of us alone.”
Yes, Lucian was aware that Maeve had often tasked either her sister or Miss Schwartz with distracting John, so they wouldn’t risk getting caught. But he hadn’t imagined that things would turn out this way.
John continued his explanation, interrupting Lucian’s thoughts. “Since I had my mind set on her friend, I never paid proper attention to Anita. What an imbecile. We met again shortly after the Langstons left London — a chance encounter at the Museum. I guess my mind became open to the possibility of her, so I began really seeing her. She’s brilliant, kind, and has a humor that matches mine. I could listen to her play the cello for hours, and it doesn’t matter how much time I spend with her, I constantly want more.”
“Yes, that sounds like love to me,” Lucian confirmed. He switched position slightly, pressing more of his weight on his cane. They ought to sit down soon, or the pain in his leg would become unbearable.
“It does, doesn’t it?” John replied. “That’s why I know you were right back then. I was never in love with Lady Maeve.”
“It still doesn’t justify the way I treated you. I’m truly sorry, John. You deserved so much better than the way I acted.”
“Eh, we all have our bad moments,” John dismissed with a shrug. “You’ve been there for me since we were children, defending and protecting me. I can’t let what happened with Lady Maeve take all that away.”
“You’re too good of a friend, John. I don’t deserve you.”
“You have your days as well, Worthington.” John offered him a playful side look, and Lucian shook his head with a grin.
Damn, it felt good to sort out the issues plaguing his life. His biggest battle had yet to come, but he’d face it headstrong.
“I think you two make a lovely pair,” Lucian said, looking at Miss Schwartz from afar.
“Thank you. The same goes for you and Lady Maeve. Are you two still a pair, though? I never figured out why the news of your engagement never came out.”
“It’s complicated,” Lucian mumbled with displeasure. “Maybe I’ll explain everything to you one d—”
“What in the burning hell are you doing here?”
Lucian turned around at once, swiftly meeting the stormy eyes of the Duke of Leeds. Fuck … Distracted by John, he’d forgotten to watch Maeve’s father.
“Your Grace, I remember receiving an invitation back in May,” he explained, hoping diplomacy would go a long way.
“And I remember telling you to stay away from my family. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“My lord, whatever this matter is about, let us remain civil,” John pressed.
Despite being physically superior to Maeve’s father, Lucian sensed the extent of the man’s power. It didn’t even matter that he was now an earl. The Duke of Leeds could socially crush him without breaking a sweat. And maybe physically as well, since he wasn’t in the best shape at the moment. At least no one around them had noticed the ongoing altercation, but it wouldn’t take much for them to suddenly have an audience.
Just as things were about to worsen, Maeve’s feminine voice intervened. “Papa, please,” she begged in a low voice, arriving next to John. Miss Schwartz was here as well, seeming just as worried. “Think of Ailia. She wouldn’t want you to cause a scandal right before her wedding,” Maeve insisted.
The argument worked like a charm on her father, who took a deep breath to calm down. While the man’s demeanor slowly returned to normal, the tempest in his eyes remained unchanged, making clear that Lucian wasn’t off the hook yet.
The duke observed him from bottom to top, not bothering to mask his disdain. “If you stay, you will remain far in the back. Unseated,” the duke ordered. “And you will stay away from my daughter. If I see you even looking her way, you’ll regret ever coming here.”
Without another word, the duke grabbed his daughter by the wrist and pulled her away from them. Maeve barely managed to offer Lucian a glance charged with apology before diligently following her angered father. Anita Schwartz was still with them, so she offered them a sheepish smile.
“Things will get better eventually,” she promised in a hopeful way.
With a discreet gesture, she gently grazed John’s arm, soothing the fabric of his jacket. The two had a silent exchange that lasted a couple of seconds, and Anita then saluted them to go after Maeve.
“All right, old friend. You have to tell me what on earth is going on,” John insisted.
Lucian didn’t have much time to fill him in before they were asked to take their seat in the chapel, but he did his best. When the duchess asked the guests to make their way in through the ornate entrance, John knew the gist of what had happened.
The inside of the small chapel held even more charm than the outside, bouquets of flowers placed along the aisle, and candles lit everywhere, their warm glow adding to the colorful patches of sun that came through the stain-glass windows.
As instructed, Lucian remained in the back, leaning on the wall by the entrance to spare his bad knee. With his arms crossed, he witnessed the ceremony, doing his best to ignore the envy invading him. What he’d give to be in the choir as well, facing the altar next to Maeve. She had her back to him, like everyone else, but she turned around now and then. And every single time, they exchanged a look full of promises and sadness.
One day it would be them. With God as his witness, he promised himself that much.
Between the moment they’d all entered and the moment everyone exited the chapel, over an hour passed. First, the bride had walked down the aisle, joining her awaiting groom. Then, all were invited to sing holy chants in the spirit of festive celebrations. Then, the official proceedings had followed, binding Lady Ailia and Lord Everson until death did them part. The priest had spoken for a moment after the chaste kiss the newlyweds exchanged.
Now, everything was over, and guests were slowly following the just-married couple outside. Lucian remained where he was, nodding at the acquaintances who greeted him. The duke didn’t fail to glare at him with anger when they crossed, and the duchess at his arm offered him a disappointed shake of her head.
Maeve came soon after, the last one inside with Lucian. When she extended a hand his way, he instinctively reached out. He held her gloved hand as she walked by, his eyes fixed on her while she kept hers upfront. Reluctantly, he let go of her instead of holding her back, and to his surprise, he was left with a piece of fabric.
Not wasting a second, he inspected what she’d subtly given him. It was a handkerchief, and embroidered on it, a black swan and three words that crushed his heart. For my love…
Fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, Lucian slipped her offering in his side pocket and joined everyone outside, just in time to see the newlyweds’ carriage leave. The rest of the Langstons entered another coach, Maeve looking back at him longingly, and then the illustrious family was gone as well.
A few of the guests had come with their carriage as well, but most of them had decided to walk for the half-mile journey back to the manor. There, an opulent party awaited everyone, to celebrate the union of Lord and Lady Everson. Lucian had left Minerva to an unsuspecting stable boy at the manor’s stables, so he had to return there as well.
He was aimlessly watching the crowd transform into a procession, wondering if he should attend the evening as well or if it would mean pushing his luck. Maybe it would be smarter to remain at a safe distance from now on and not outstay his welcome. Especially since he wasn’t even welcomed in the first place.
“Will you be alright, walking there?” John asked, appearing by his side.
“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“Don’t worry, Worthington, we’ll walk at your pace.” It was Ackley, who’d stayed behind, along with two more of John’s friends.
“Don’t bother on my account, I’ll get there eventually,” Lucian tried, preferring to be alone than among others.
“Nonsense! The celebrations will last for three days anyway, so we can miss some of it.” The men agreed with Waverly’s statement, and Lucian bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan.
Surely enough, their little group began their walk back to the manor, behind everyone else. Despite the pain, Lucian forced himself to march as fast as he could, so he wouldn’t endure everyone’s presence for longer than necessary. Some prideful part of him also refused to show just how handicapped he was at the moment.
“I heard the duke and the duchess spared no expenses for this wedding,” John casually said. Hmm, yes. Maintaining a conversation would help time go by faster.
“Well, they have the means for it,” someone replied.
“They certainly do. I’d never been to Langston Manor before, but this estate is positively stunning.”
“I imagine they were quite relieved to be marrying off one of their bastard daughters,” Ackley pointed out with mocking spitefulness.
“Ackley, hold your tongue!” John reprimanded him before Lucian could let his anger take over.
“Oh, please. We’ve all read the article. We were all thinking it. I merely voiced it. It’s a shame for them that the worst of the two has yet to find a husband.”
Lucian did his best to quench the rage slowly rising in him. Full of animosity, he glared at the back of Ackley’s head, walking a few steps in front of him. If the man didn’t shut his dreadful mouth soon, he’d get a cane slammed across the side of his face.
Unaware of Lucian’s growing ire, the idiot continued his argumentation. “I can’t think of a single man who’d want that wench as a wife. No matter the dowry. A half-bohemian bastard who happens to be a frigid bitch? I wouldn’t want her even if she had the tightest cunt in the country.”
All Lucian could see was red. Consuming, intense, and furious crimson veiling his vision. His grip on his cane tightened, and just as he was about to raise his arm, John’s hand came to rest over it, firmly holding him back from administering the blow Ackley deserved.
“Don’t,” he whispered intently. “The arsehole doesn’t even deserve the sweat you’d shed.”
“I will kill him if he doesn’t shut his mouth,” Lucian answered.
“I, for one, don’t believe whatever the article claimed,” Waverly claimed, unknowingly coming to Ackley’s aid. “I’ve seen bohemians before, and there is no way the Duchess of Leeds is one of them. If you ask me, I think her blood is as blue as Spaniards’ blood can get.”
“Don’t be so naïve, my friend. Three thorough baths, and any one of them might look as decent as you or me.”
Alright, the man deserved the incoming whacking. Once more, John prevented Lucian from acting on his impulse, adding a disapproving glance this time. “They will know something is up if you strike him,” he tactfully pointed out.
Fuck, he was right.
Lucian gave up on his desire to exercise vengeance, despite how terribly he wanted to teach Ackley a humbling lesson. Thankfully, John managed to veer the topic in another direction. Instead of the Langstons, the men spoke of some random topic Lucian couldn’t be bothered to care about. As they followed the well-maintained path to the manor, he did everything he could to calm down, hoping his thoughts could be gathered by the time they joined the others.
John had a point. Ackley wasn’t worth it.
As if his thoughts had conjured the prick, Lucian suddenly found him to his left, while John was slightly ahead, engrossed in the conversation.
“You’re awfully quiet, Worthington. Cat’s got your tongue?”
“My tongue’s fine. I simply haven’t found a worthy reason to use it yet.”
They walked in silence for a few yards, and Lucian’s efforts to leave the imbecile unharmed were quickly fading.
“I didn’t expect to find you so gloomy,” Ackley declared out of the blue.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you don’t look like a man who was not only saved from a disastrous match but also kept out of all the scandal.”
Ackley’s declaration was so unexpected, it took a few seconds for Lucian to make sense of his words. But the insinuation was impossible to miss. Ackley knew that he had been romantically tangled with Maeve. He knew they’d been on the verge of marrying.
And no one aside from her parents and sister had been aware of that. Not even John. So how did Ackley know?
Maybe he’d heard something he wasn’t supposed to. If Ackley knew that, what else did he know? Had he been eavesdropping on them, like the pathetic weasel he was?
And most importantly, had he been there the evening Maeve had confessed everything to him?
【49】Cowardly Rat
During the rest of the walk, Lucian managed to keep a clear head. Ackley’s words had shaken him, but he tried to rationalize what was happening. The thought that the whistleblower might have fallen onto his lap brought a great surge of hope, which he struggled to contain.
Before anything, he had to confirm his suspicions. Ackley knowing that he and Maeve were about to announce their engagement and him being the rat who’d sold her secrets weren’t the same thing. But Ackley’s assurance that the rumors were true definitely indicated that he might, in fact, be the person Lucian was looking for.
Between that and his animosity for Maeve, he was more than suspicious.
By the time they arrived at the manor, Lucian had forgotten his original plan to leave before he could be noticed. While he wasn’t looking forward to attending the festivities, he couldn’t quite leave until he’d figured out what the hell was going on with Ackley.
So, instead of heading for the stables to have Minerva saddled and leave, he followed the others inside the manor. A valet bowed when they entered before guiding them toward whatever room the guests were gathered in. Before they reached it, Lucian grabbed John’s arm and pulled him aside, slowing down their pace.
“I can’t join you there,” he explained. “If the duke sees me, trouble might ensue. But I need a favor from you, John.”
“Sure, what do you want?”
Making sure no one was around to see them, he opened the closest door and checked what was inside. It was a small yellow parlor, and it would be good enough for what he had in mind.
“I need you to get Ackley in here,” he explained. “Use whatever trick you can think of, but bring him to me.”
“If it’s so you can beat him senseless, I’d rather not.”
Lucian winced, understanding why John would believe this was his goal. But depending on how his conversation with the idiot would unfold, it might be the outcome. “He said something to me on our way back, and… I have reason to believe he’s the one who sold the gossip to the newspaper,” he argued in a low voice.
John’s eyes widened, and he looked in the direction the others had disappeared to. “Well… I imagine I shouldn’t be surprised. For some reason, he’s always had a problem with Lady Maeve. If you ask me, he did deserve that slap she gave him for kissing her like that.”
“She didn’t slap him. She kicked him in the balls. Hard. But regardless, you’re right. He loathes her. So, please, bring him here so I can interrogate him.”
“Will do. It might take me a moment, though, since we’ve just arrived.”
“Whatever it takes, just bring him here. I’ll wait.”
After a slight hesitation, John turned to him again. “What will you do to him, if it turns out you’re right?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet, but I won’t promise he’ll get out of here intact.”
“Tell you what. If you’re right and he did it, I’ll stand guard by the door to make sure you’re uninterrupted.”
“That sounds perfect, Delawney.”
John nodded, and as he left him to join the others, Lucian was tempted to hold him back. Maybe John could let Maeve know that he was here, so they could steal a few minutes. But that would make him more liable to getting caught, so he kept his mouth shut and watched his ginger friend walk away.
When John took a turn at the end of the hallway and disappeared, Lucian made sure there were still no witnesses and entered the yellow parlor, closing the door behind him. Because he’d been standing and walking around for over two hours now, he didn’t waste time sitting down on one of the couches. The relief it brought was instantaneous, although insufficient.
But the pain that lingered in his leg wasn’t enough to distract him from his ongoing objective.
If his intuition was right and if Ackley had been there the evening Maeve had said all those things, if Ackley had been the one selling her family’s secret, then all the mess he found himself in could be solved before the day ended.
All he needed to do was to get the prick to confess and have him repeat it in front of the duke — who was in this very manor. If he managed to do that, then his innocence would be proven, and the duke wouldn’t object to him marrying his daughter.
Lucian’s mind was strangely invigorated, his skin almost tingling with excitement. To his displeasure, his heightened mood seemed to slow time, and while the clock on the mantle showed that only half an hour had passed, Lucian felt like he’d been waiting for three full ones.
Every time there was a sound in the hallway, he’d stand up and go to the door to listen, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be valets or maids. He was almost ready to head out and fetch Ackley himself when familiar voices came to his ears. Finally, John was coming back. And if Lucian wasn’t mistaken, it was Ackley’s voice that answered him.
“…reminds me that I still haven’t paid what I owed you from last time,” the arse was saying.
“Maybe I’ll be the one owing you after this game,” John replied. The door opened, and Lucian was right by it, waiting impatiently.
“Oh, there you are, Worthington. We were wondering where you’d disappeared to. Are you joining us for a few rounds of cards?”
“You’re not here to play cards,” Lucian threateningly replied.
Ackley’s carefree assurance wavered, and he turned to John with a confused expression on his face, expecting an explanation.
“Did I say a game of whist? Sorry, I meant a game of fists,” John said with cynicism. “Get in, Ackley.”
“I’d rather not—”
Before he could get away like the sniveling cockroach he was, Lucian seized him by the collar while John grabbed his arm. Seconds later, all three of them were in the small parlor, and the dismay that seeped from Ackley’s demeanor delighted Lucian.
That puny little man would be easy to break, and he’d get a confession from him in no time. Filled with repressed rage, Lucian came closer to Ackley, adamant to get the answers he sought.
“How did you know about me and Lady Maeve being somehow entangled?” he asked, the low tone of his voice threatening.
“What? Worthington, what is this about?”
“On our way to here, you implied I should be glad to have been spared from the Langston scandal. What did you mean by that?”
Unsure what to say, how to get himself out of this, Ackley’s eyes flew from him to John a few times. “Worthington, you must be mistaken. Why would I say such a thing? I didn’t even know—”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Lucian growled, reaching for Ackley’s collar to pull him his way.
“I— No, certainly not. I think you might have me confused with someone else. Delawney, tell him!”
John rose an eyebrow at him, the disdain in his glare hard to miss. “You’re a cockroach, Ackley. You’ve always been. Now, answer my friend before he gets mad. Because this isn’t him mad. Not yet.”
Ackley gulped, looking back at Lucian who was holding him inches from him, forcing the prick to be on the tip of his feet. “I… I may have heard about it at some point.”
“When?! And from who?” Lucian insisted, shaking the man like a prune tree.
“It was— at the party Lord Walfrid hosted.” If that was true, then it meant Ackley wasn’t responsible for the leak.
The bastard was convincing, and Lucian might have believed him if he hadn’t known better. “The Langstons weren’t at that party, and I didn’t speak of my liaison with her to anyone, you lying piece of shit. Tell me the truth, Ackley, or I will start punching.”
The threat wasn’t as efficient as expected, because Ackley remained silent for a moment, searching for another lie he could tell. Out of patience, Lucian pulled him higher, practically lifting him off the floor — which wasn’t such a feat, given Ackley’s skinny build.
“Must I remind you that I have killed men, Ackley? I know which deaths are the most painful, which wounds will make a grown man call for his mother and beg for life to end. Don’t tempt me to inflict that on you.”
True horror appeared in the man’s eyes as he gauged the potentiality of Lucian acting on his threats. “It was at Beckman’s ball,” Ackley capitulated within seconds. “I heard it during Beckman’s ball.”
A strange mix of emotions surged into Lucian’s mind. The relief he felt that he might be right and Ackley might be the man he was looking for was contending with a desire to bash his face in. That miserable rat might really be the cause of all that ache.
“How exactly did you hear about it?” Lucian insisted.
“If I tell you, promise you won’t hurt me.”
“It doesn’t work like that. But I promise I will hurt you if you don’t tell me or try to lie again.”
Ackley let out a pathetic whimper, but Lucian muffled it by shaking him once more. “I— I heard you two talking about it!” he finally admitted. “I saw her slip out to the garden looking upset. So I followed her to make sure she was all right. And then I heard her tell you the story.”
There it was. The confession Lucian had needed. Ackley was the source behind the article. He’d sold the information he’d heard out of revenge, to make Maeve pay for the way she’d humiliated him.
“I don’t remember seeing you,” John declared, seemingly confused. “On my way back to the party, I remember coming across Lady Maeve, but not you.”
Damn it… Was Ackley somehow lying again? Tired of his mind games, Lucian moved into the room to slam his captive against the wall.
“I was hiding!” he blurted out. “In the bushes, away from the path. But I’m speaking the truth, you have to believe me. Please, don’t hurt me.”
The man looked too scared to lie, so Lucian dwelled on his words, trying to understand what was going on. Upon seeing Maeve leave the crowd alone, Ackley had followed her, masking himself in the darkness of the night. Those weren’t the actions of a man wishing to ensure a lady’s well-being. Ackley’s confessions revealed ill intentions.
As he realized it, Lucian’s blood began to boil in his veins. Ackley had intended to avenge his bruised ego in a much different way that night. Had Maeve not been safe by his side, only God knew what might have happened to her.
“What were you going to do to her?” Lucian shouted, raw fury making him slam the man into the wall again.
“Only to see if she was all right,” Ackley squealed.
“Why would you care? You loathe the woman.”
Ackley found nothing to salvage his lie, and the terrified look on his face confirmed that Lucian’s suspicions were right. “I’m going to kill you, you despicable rodent. And I will enjoy every second of it.”
Red was all Lucian could see as he backed a fisted hand, ready to administer the first of many blows on the scared face before him. Ackley didn’t deserve the air he breathed after what he’d done to Maeve; after what he’d planned on doing to her.
“Lucian, you can’t!” John tried to stop him, grabbing his arm and preventing the punch. “You need him. He has to take the blame.”
There was some truth to those words, but it wasn’t enough to tame Lucian’s rage. With murder in his eyes, he stared at Ackley, who was struggling to breathe, wriggling to get away. That rat didn’t need all his teeth to confess.
With a harsh gesture, Lucian shook John’s hands to free his arm, and before he could be stopped again, he launched his fist into the side of Ackley’s face. The pain that bloomed in his knuckles was nothing compared to the grimace that appeared on the man’s face, so Lucian hit him again, harder.
“Lucian, you need to stop!” John shouted.
But nothing could make it through the haze of wrath. All Lucian could see was the image of Ackley doing to Maeve whatever despicable things he’d planned on. All that because she’d defended her virtue with a well-placed kick of her knee.
By the fifth blow, Ackley had grown limp, his weight increasing on Lucian’s arm as if his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. John was still trying to hold back his arm, but nothing worked.
“What in the devil’s name is happening?” came an authoritative voice behind them.
Upon recognizing who’d spoken, some sense hit Lucian, and he remained still for a moment, his hand midair, his eyes on Ackley and his bloodied nose.
Damn it… This was the last position he wanted Maeve’s father to find him in.
That wouldn’t look good.
【50】Lethal Threats
“Your Grace,” John started, “we can explain.”
“I hope you have a good excuse for this, Worthington,” the duke growled.
Because there was so much in the balance, Lucian unclenched his fist and released Ackley. The man tried to keep his footing but failed, sliding against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Lucian held no pity for his state, on the contrary, hoping his nose was as broken as it seemed.
After a long breath to fill his lungs, he turned around to meet the duke’s angered glare. “I thought I’d made it clear you weren’t welcome among us,” Maeve’s father reminded him.
“Believe me when I say I didn’t plan on staying.” Lucian’s voice was slightly uneven as he struggled to contain his heightened temper. Blood was still pumping in his ears, his limbs imperceptibly shaking with contained rage.
“Then what are you still doing here, beating someone in my yellow parlor?” The duke came further into the room, passing by John and Lucian, and then kneeled by Ackley, who was still on the floor, drowsy. There was blood seeping over the lower half of his face, and it was clear that the left side would start swelling soon. “What has this poor man done to you?”
“You should ask what he’s done to you and your family,” John intervened.
Confused, Maeve’s father looked away from Ackley to glance at them with frowning brows. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Lucian exchanged a side look with his friend, unsure how to proceed. Why would the duke believe any of what he’d say, given the scene he’d just witnessed? “Lord Ackley is the one responsible for the article about your family,” Lucian explained. “Not me.”
After a moment of hesitation, staring at them with uncertainty, the duke turned to Ackley again. When he stood up, he still didn’t seem to believe Lucian’s declaration. “Is this what was happening? You were beating him into accepting to take the blame for you, Worthington?”
Lucian held back a grunt, expecting things to take such a turn. “The beating was regarding another matter, my lord, One I’m not sure you’d want to know about. Ackley slipped a snarky remark to me earlier, which triggered a few questions.” Lucian did his best to explain everything to the duke, hoping his candor would be rewarded by the duke’s trust. The fact that Ackley wasn’t denying any of it, despite having regained some of his faculties, played in his favor.
“Is that what you were doing? Torturing it out of him? Of course the poor man would confess to whatever with this treatment!” the duke protested once Lucian was done explaining.
“No, he confessed before I began punching.”
“It doesn’t make it better, Worthington. If your intentions here are to gain my blessings again, you’re going at it wrong. I’m not one to leave my daughter in the care of a violent man.”
While Lucian was slightly irritated by the turn of events, he could appreciate the protectiveness of the duke toward his daughter. Instead of arguing, he walked to Ackley and bent to grab hold of his askew jacket, and pulled him back up on his feet.
“Tell him,” he ordered. “Tell him what you were going to do to his daughter when you followed her outside during Beckman’s ball.”
The pathetic man was holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose, trying to contain the blood seeping out of his nostrils and the cut across it. “Please, Worthington. I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for what I wanted to do. But understand where I come from, my friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Lucian objected. “Not after you ruined the life of the woman I love. Not after you intended to violate her to avenge your bruised ego. If I didn’t need you to go to the newspaper’s editor to undo all the wrong you’ve caused, I would squish you to a pulp with my bare hands.”
“What was he going to do to my daughter?” the duke asked, coming closer to them. When Lucian gazed at Maeve’s father, he noticed that something lethal was veiling his blue eyes.
“You grace, nothing happened,” Ackley tried to defend himself, still trapped by Lucian’s hold.
The duke took it as an admission of guilt, and his glare turned deadly. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded remarkably contained, showing just how much restraint the man held. “Mr. Delawney, would you mind heading outside to guard the door for a moment? I’d hate for what will follow to be interrupted.”
John nodded, and after a last glance at Lucian, he did as asked and left them in the room.
“Sit him down,” Maeve’s father ordered. Ackley was promptly thrown into an armchair nearby. Lucian’s brows shot up when the duke settled his booted foot over the man’s crotch, easily accessible between his spread knees. “Is all of this true?” the duke asked, pressing some of his weight on Ackley’s sensitive area.
“Aah… My lord, your grace, I can’t apologize enough for—”
“Is it true?” the duke interrupted, pressing harder.
“I was the one who contacted the paper, yes. I will do whatever it takes to undo it, I promise,” Ackley begged.
“I’m sure you will, yes.” With his foot still on Ackley’s crotch, the duke turned to Lucian. “What was it you said about the paper’s editor, Worthington?”
“The paper’s owner told me they’d retract their claims and issue a disclaimer if, and only if, the one who originated the information came forward to take it all back. They might be liable to lose a lawsuit otherwise, and I don’t believe anyone would survive one of those against you, my lord.”
The duke nodded, thinking intently, and Lucian discerned some relief on his traits. “Did you hear that, Ackley?” he asked in a neutral tone. He leaned forward, casually resting his elbow on his knee, which resulted in more weight against Ackley’s crotch. The latter whimpered and tried to move away, only to fail. “You’ll go back to whoever distributed that rag and take it all back. I don’t care what you have to say to undo what you’ve done, but you will say it. Is that clear?”
Ackley nodded, squirming in the armchair, trying to find a position that might take away some of the pain.
“As for that other matter,” the duke continued, pushing even harder on his foot. “What were you going to do to my daughter?”
“Your grace, please… I would never— I won’t— Please…”
Merciless, Maeve’s father gave a strong but short impulse on his leg, ripping a faint cry from Ackley. To Lucian’s dislike, he released the man’s crotch right after, turning to him instead. “I hear the continent is a lovely place at this time of the year. All year long, actually,” the duke told Lucian, somehow cordial.
Understanding what the man had in mind, Lucian couldn’t hold back the shadow of a smile. “I can’t speak for the entire continent, but Spain was lovely indeed. Such agreeable weather compared to ours.”
“Heard that, Ackley? Spain’s weather is superior. I think you should relocate there, for a while. At least until I’ve forgotten what your face looks like.”
“Maybe you’ll get to have a taste of the ‘local delicacies’,” Lucian told Ackley, his voice charged with irony. He turned to Maeve’s father again. “But if I may, my lord, I have an excellent memory where faces are concerned.” The duke looked at Lucian with an inquisitive eyebrow quirked up. “I think a farther destination, maybe the Americas or India, would be a better fit for him.”
“Hmm, I like the way you think, Worthington. I believe you might be right.” The duke’s attention returned to Ackley, and his boot found its way to his crotch again. “What do you say, Ackley? Doesn’t the new world sound like a perfect place to spend the rest of your life?”
“It— It does, my lord. I will make arrangements soon.”
“After you’ve fixed the mess you’ve caused, of course.”
“Yes, of course…”
“How agreeable of you. Does it mean I don’t need to remind you I can make your life a living hell should you decide to stay in this country?”
“No, your grace. I’m perfectly aware of your power.”
“Good lad. So, you’ll head to London with haste, repair the damages you’ve caused to my family, and then arrange your unexpected departure to the Americas. If you remain on this island for a day longer than necessary, I will make you wish Worthington had finished what he’d started here.”
Ackley gulped hard, and letting his hand with the handkerchief down, he nodded hurriedly.
The duke seemed to judge it to be sufficient, as he lifted his foot and allowed Ackley to stand on wobbly legs. Lucian wasn’t quite done yet, though, so he grabbed him by the collar one last time.
“I will be keeping an eye on you as well, Ackley. Do a single thing out of line, have even the faintest peek at Lady Maeve, and I will rip your balls off and make you eat them.”
Ackley’s worried look went to the duke, who shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t look at me. I wholeheartedly agree with Worthington’s threats. I will be right there with him, serving you that trifling appendage you dare call a cock to go with your shriveled balls.”
Damn, Lucian had never expected Maeve’s father, always so proper and mighty, to be so warm-blooded. He wondered for an instant if a life by the side of his bohemian wife had made him so remarkably intense, or if the middle-aged man had always had this kind of fire within.
“I promise I shall do as I’m told,” Ackley swore. “I will head to London, contact my liaison at the newspaper, retract my claims, and then busy myself with my move to the Americas. But please, don’t— don’t hurt me.”
Lucian turned to the duke for his approval, and when the man nodded, he released Ackley for good. As the pathetic rat hurried to the door with limping steps, Maeve’s father bent toward Lucian. “I don’t get why the man’s so attached to his genitals. I barely sensed anything under the sole of my boot. Nearly as flat as a woman’s crotch.”
Lucian couldn’t hold back a snarky laugh, his eyes still on Ackley’s figure. He’d reached the door and was fumbling with the knob, his bloody hands slippery. “Stop spreading blood all over my house, you imbecile,” the duke ordered.
Ackley nervously turned to bow in apology, and then used the fabric of his jacket to open. Within seconds, he disappeared into the hallway. John was there, still standing guard, and he turned to peek inside, trying to determine what had happened in the parlor.
“Give us a few more moments, Delawney,” the duke requested, gesturing for John to close the door. Soon, Lucian was alone with Maeve’s father, and the rhythm of his heart increased in his chest.
This moment would be decisive. He couldn’t blow things up. Not when he was so close to having the life he dreamed of with the woman he loved.
“I believe you and I need to have a conversation,” the duke declared. “But first, I need a drink. Whiskey?” he asked, heading toward a cart stacked with colorful liquors.
“That would be perfect, thank you.”
Lucian stood there, unsure how things would go. Surely, the duke wanted to talk about his future with Maeve, and given what had just unfolded, it seemed the circumstances were in his favor.
The duke was busy serving the second glass when some ruckus came to them from outside. Lucan recognized John’s voice, trying to keep out whoever had arrived. And then the intruder’s voice came to his ears, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise in excitement.
Before either of them could do anything, the door flung open, revealing Maeve’s silhouette. She stood in the doorway for a second, assessing what she was seeing, and just as John attempted to hold her back again, she entered the room and slammed the door shut.
“You! You need to listen to me,” she ordered, pointing a determined finger at her father, marching into the room with assurance.
While the sight of her filled him with joy, Lucian’s face twisted into a wince. May God hold her back from saying anything that would compromise their chances…
【51】Heartfelt Plea
Maeve wasn’t sure what she was about to say, but she was certain she would say it.
Seeing her sister basking in happiness, elated to have married Thomas Everson, had only reminded her of the unfairness of her situation with Lucian. The man she loved had done nothing wrong, so there was no reason for them not to know the same marital bliss as the newlyweds.
While she doubted her father would believe her when she explained that Lucian had nothing to do with the leak, she was determined to enforce that truth on him until he accepted it. Aiden Langston might be a stubborn man, but she was an even more stubborn woman.
What she hadn’t bargained for, though, was that Lucian himself would be here as well. When she’d left the guests to find her father, she’d truly believed that Lucian was gone, since she hadn’t seen him for over an hour, after their last glance in the chapel. But upon seeing John Delawney by the door, she’d instantly gathered that her former fiancé was in the room, and she’d suspected that her father was right there with him.
Instead of the bloodbath she’d expected, she’d found the two men surprisingly unharmed. Maybe she’d arrived before the battle. Which was good, because she was ready to lead the charge.
Her eyes were focused on her father, but everything in her was aware of Lucian’s presence so close. His proximity would fuel the fire in her heart, spurring her to demand the life they were owed.
“Father, I- I have something to say, and I demand that you listen.” With slow gestures and some indiscernible expression on his face, her father turned toward her, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
Lucian came closer, his demeanor uncharacteristically hesitant. “Maeve, you-”
“No, let her speak,” her father cut him.
She felt as though there was something she was missing, but her emotions were too high for her to ponder on it efficiently. Her eyes anxiously scanned the room, and she noticed a white handkerchief on the floor, covered in blood. Well, maybe she was arriving after the bloodbath in the end.
“Papa, I realize you have some animosity toward Luci- Lord Worthington. And while I understand where it comes from, and I myself believed the same, I must tell you that you are wrong. Which I know isn’t something you’re told often.”
Her brazenness earned her one of her father’s famous haughty looks, his left eyebrow cocked up and his lips pinched.
“I know how it sounds, and I’m aware that we’ve done nothing to deserve your trust, but believe me, Papa… He didn’t do it. We don’t know yet who sold the information about you and Mother, but it wasn’t him. He isn’t responsible. Please, believe me; trust that I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important.” Her father wasn’t objecting, still observing her with keen interest, and she took it as a sign that things were doing well so far. “All day I’ve watched Ailia be the happiest I’ve ever seen her, and while I’m so proud and delighted for her, it has been crushing me inside. I want what she has. I want to marry the man I so desperately love.”
Tears were making their way into her eyes, blurring her vision. Still, she turned toward Lucian, who was still awkwardly standing by their side.
“And this is him, Papa. I won’t ever love another man as I love this one. No one can ever make me as happy as he can. No one will ever possess my entire heart like he does.” She took a deep, shaky breath, overwhelmed by her emotions. The courage she was displaying surprised her. When she faced her father again, she thought she could read a vulnerability in him that hadn’t been there before.
“But I also love you, and Mother, and this entire family. Please, don’t force me to make a choice between the heart this man owns and the blood pumping into it. One is nothing without the other, and I need both to live. I need him, but I also need my family’s love. I want children with Lord Worthington, which I never thought I would - not with anyone. But I want them to know their grandfather as well. I want you to make them bounce on your lap as you used to for Ailia and me, I want to watch them ride on your back as you take them for a stroll in the family parlor. I want the Sunday brunches to be filled with love and laughter, the table surrounded by the family I currently have and the family I hope to create with the man I’m choosing.”
In need of some more courage, she extended a hand toward Lucian. He was visibly shaken by her tirade, but he still slid his fingers into her palm, his hold strong and determined. He came closer to her as she wiped away a tear with the back of her free hand.
“Father, I’m not asking for permission. Not anymore. I will marry Lucian, whether you approve of him or not. If I don’t, my life will forever be unfulfilled, and I will loathe myself for not taking the leap, for worrying about everyone else so much more than myself. But I’m begging you to please accept him. I’m begging you not to force me out of this family, begging you to remain my Papa, the man who supports me no matter what, the duke who found two bohemian girls and loved them with everything he had, despite all odds. I’m begging you to, please, not cast me away because of who I love. More than anyone, you know I never had a choice in this. You know one isn’t free to decide who owns their heart.”
Silence fell around them as she ran out of words to utter. All she could hear was her heartbeat, so intense she sensed it in the back of her throat. Lucian was still holding her hand, his thumb grazing her, and she could feel his gaze on her profile. Her father observed them for a moment, thinking intently about what he’d say next. With everything she had, Maeve prayed that she’d won him over, that her plea would reach him, and that she’d get the life she longed for.
Wordlessly, her father twisted to grab two glasses he must have filled before she entered, and stepped their way. “Well, that was riveting,” he let out, handing a serve of amber liquor to Lucian.
He then came to her, and with a tender hand on the back of her neck, he pulled her in to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I will always love you, my little pirate. With no bottom and no cap to it.”
Entirely lost, Maeve tried to understand what was happening, glimpsing at her father and Lucian. Did this mean she’d won? Was this her father approving of their union? There was a twinkle in both men’s eyes that deepened her disorientation.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go fetch my duchess,” her father declared, taking a long sip of his drink. “She’d be quite upset if we didn’t include her in talks of marriage and wedding.”
Maeve’s eyes rounded, stunned by the confirmation her father had just given her. Marriage and wedding? Was this really happening? Incredulous, she watched as her father walked to the door, his demeanor remarkably relaxed. Had her speech been so convincing?
The duke opened the door, and just as he stepped outside, he turned to them for a quick interjection. “I will be quick. A minute or so. You two behave. Delawney, I free you of your guarding duties.”
With that, he closed the door, leaving them alone after one last authoritative glance. Still bewildered, Maeve turned to Lucian, hoping he’d understand whatever was going on better than her. He was getting rid of his untouched glass, setting it down on a small table near him.
He was still holding her hand, and he used his hold to bring it to his mouth, intently kissing the back of her palm. “That was very moving, my love.”
“I- What is this? Are we… Are we free to marry?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“But… Does this mean I over-thought everything? That my father never needed the true culprit to accept you?”
“Ackley was the one who sold your family’s secrets to the paper. Your father and I were having a conversation with him minutes before you joined us.”
Well, that explained the bloodied handkerchief. But it didn’t excuse why her father hadn’t said a thing, letting her make a fool of herself the way she had. Maybe he’d seen an opportunity to gauge the intensity of her feelings for Lucian and had seized it.
“Ackley, that… arsehole,” she let out, appalled. “We should have guessed. And I should have kicked him much harder. I wish I’d pureed his balls.”
“Your father took care of that, actually.”
“Good.” She let out a frustrated grunt, wishing Ackley could be right here with them so she’d do to him all the terrible things she wanted. “If I ever see that sniveling bellend ever again, I will make him pay for what he did to us.”
“I don’t think you’ll ever see him again. Not after the way your father and I handled it.” Lucian laughed, coming closer to frame her face with tender hands.
“Lucian… is this real?” she asked, looking up to his mossy green eyes, so full of hope.
“It is. Your father knows the truth, and after your very convincing monologue, I doubt he’d dare keep us apart.”
“So we’ll marry? You will be mine?”
“And you’ll be mine,” he confirmed.
With greediness, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her tightly against his solid chest. His warmth seeped through the layers of her clothes, reaching deep into her skin.
Her chest swelled, her heart suddenly too large to be contained within it. Despite how undeniable Lucian’s body was against her, she was struggling to believe this was indeed happening. Maybe she was dreaming and unaware? She’d been ready to wait for months, years until the matter was settled, and it was all suddenly done?
She’d barely moved when Lucian pulled away, and he surprised her by bending to claim her lips with passion.
Eventually, the acute sensations triggered by Lucian’s tender attentions shook her out of her thoughts. With a greediness that equaled his, she wrapped her arms around his imposing chest and kissed him back. As they embraced with uncontainable elation, Maeve had to accept the truth.
His mouth on hers was marvelously real.
All of this was real. So incredibly real.
Her father believed them. He approved of Lucian, and she would get to marry the man she loved in the end. They’d share thousands of kisses like this one, would spend the rest of their days together, have a family of their own, grow old side by side…
She wouldn’t be deprived of any of it.
Despite her father’s command to behave, none of them managed to show restraint. With avid hands, she was tugging at the short hair on the back of Lucian’s head, pulling him closer to devour him more thoroughly, and his hands were all over her, palming and grazing her curves with hunger. Their tongues frantically sought each other’s, overwhelmed by their blissful moods. It was as though Pandora’s box had been opened, its lid discarded forever.
A lifetime of passion awaited them.
She was entirely lost in it when Lucian suddenly pulled away from her, forcing them apart. Right as she was about to protest and claim him again, she heard what had caused his sudden retreat. They barely had time to take a step back before the door opened.
Although they tried to act as if they’d done nothing wrong, she doubted her parents would be fooled. Especially if her face was as reddened as Lucian’s, her eyes as sparkly as his. The way her father gave them a scowling look upon entering, slightly disapproving, told her she’d been right. As elegant as ever, Maeve’s mother followed. If she suspected anything to have happened in the parlor, she didn’t show it.
“I took the liberty of explaining the change of situation to the duchess on our way here,” her father explained. “We don’t have much time, as we should all return to the festivities and celebrate Ailia and her husband, but we can take a moment to figure out a few things.”
“My husband told me we’ve misjudged you. And for that, I apologize, my lord,” her mother told Lucian. “He also shared with me how deeply you cared about not only Maeve’s wellbeing, but our entire family’s.”
“I believe one and the other are closely entwined, my lady. As for the misjudging, I can only forgive it, given that I believed myself guilty as well. It was during my quest to right my wrongs that I came to realize I wasn’t the source of the issue. Thankfully, the matter is all sorted now.”
“At least it will be soon enough,” the duke added. “Anyhow, it seemed quite clear that you two intend to marry soon.”
“We do,” Maeve approved.
“I see no objections to it, as long as things are done the proper manner. This family has known enough scandals as it is.”
Slight disappointment struck Maeve. The proper manner meant at least a month until they were married. Between publishing the announcement in the papers, the reading of the banns for three Sundays, and the organization of it all, it might even be longer. Another matter came to mind as she thought about what this meant.
“I want Ailia to be there,” she explained. That implied they’d have to wait at least seven weeks, since her sister would depart for her honeymoon in Italy soon.
“Well then, I would say two months is a reasonable expectation,” her mother calculated.
“It will have to take place in London,” her father added. “We are headed there in three weeks, as I have some business I must attend to.”
“London is perfect,” Lucian approved. “It will be simpler for my family. My mother will want to have a say in the preparations.”
“I’m sure we’ll make something work,” the duchess diplomatically agreed.
“So in two months and in London, then. We will pick a specific date later,” Maeve’s father declared. “Of course, you’re welcome to visit us, Worthington. You may court my daughter, as any betrothed would. You two will be allowed to have chaperoned encounters. But this time, I won’t allow any shenanigans of any sort. As I’ve said, this family has been the target of enough gossip as it is. Since you two are meant to marry, I believe you can act reasonably.”
Maeve glimpsed at Lucian, wholeheartedly disagreeing with her father’s demand. Three weeks without any sort of intimacy with him had rendered her nearly mad. She would end in an asylum if they couldn’t have any of their illicit encounters for two months.
It seemed Lucian was adamant to keep her family’s trust and approval, as he didn’t hesitate to nod. “Of course, my lord. We shall abide by whatever rules you dictate.”
The crease between her brows deepened as she frowned harder. Part of her wanted to rebel, but she held back. It would be entirely inappropriate to ask her parents to turn a blind eye as they’d done before.
In the end, she would marry the man she loved, and it was all that mattered. Their path to happiness had been rough and clumsy from the beginning. It was only fair that they’d face another challenge before their happily ever after.
And they’d become good at sneaking around, so who knew? She might get what she wanted after all…
“Now, shall we return to the festivities?” her father suggested. He extended his arm to his wife, and she gladly took it.
“We will have a talk with Ailia this afternoon to make sure she’s fine with it, but the ball tonight would be a perfect opportunity to announce your engagement,” the duchess explained. Maeve watched, still slightly shocked, as her parents walked together to the door.
“I can’t believe we’re losing another girl so soon,” her father mumbled to his wife.
“We’re not losing her, darling. We’re giving her away.”
“Like a hot potato. So she’ll be someone else’s problem.”
“I heard that!” Maeve shouted. But they’d already passed the door, so she didn’t see their reaction. It didn’t matter though, because she’d also heard the humorous tone of her father, and knew he didn’t mean his teasing words.
She was quickly distracted anyway, as Lucian’s arms were suddenly around her waist, pulling her his way. “Don’t worry, my black swan… I cannot wait to make you my problem.”
As she looked up into his beloved eyes, another surge of tenderness and bliss bloomed in her chest. In two months’ time, this man would be her lawfully wedded husband. And while it was a relatively brief wait given the monumental reward, she still worried it might be too long.
“Do you still have the key to the garden’s gate?” she asked with a hushed voice.
A broad smile stretched his tempting lips as he understood her meaning. “Are we already planning some mischief, Maeve Langston?”
“Two months, Lucian. That’s eight weeks… We could barely last a week as it was. Do you truly believe we’ll manage eight of them?”
There was indulgence in his eyes as he grazed the side of her face with a delicate thumb. “We’ve been going at this the wrong way from the beginning, my love… How about we try doing things right from now on?”
“Why are you choosing now , of all times, to be reasonable?” she protested with a pout.
He bent over, his hand on her lower back bringing her even closer to him until she was flushed against his strong body. His lips were so close to her ear that she could perceive their warmth, and feel the air of the words he then whispered. “Because, my intrepid swan, I rather like the idea that next time I’m inside of you, you will be my wife.”
Something melted inside her, low in her pit. There was a promise in his admission that was impossible to miss. And without him having to tell her more, she understood the appeal there would be in waiting two entire months before they were reunited. The thrill of the wait, the buildup, the angst, the need… All those would make for a memorable wedding night. One that would leave them both weak-legged and satiated.
When she spoke again, her voice was slightly altered by arousal - which he didn’t miss, given the way his pupils expanded. “You better make the wait worth it, Lucian.”
“Don’t worry, swan. I don’t think you’ll have any complaints by the time I’ll be done with you. In fact, I don’t think you’ll even remember how to use words.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Oh, no… It’s a promise.”
Her playful repartee was swallowed by his avid mouth, eagerly meeting hers. Rapturous, she took all he gave, still wondering if all this hadn’t been a dream. Everything had been so fast, it hardly felt possible. But she’d heard her father, her mother, and she felt Lucian against hers, bringing her back to reality.
After everything, this man would be hers in the end.
The dashing officer, the war hero, the most unique man she’d ever encountered…
Her Lucian…
Hey guys!
So, this is the last proper chapter, and the next one will be the epilogue! HOWEVER, I’ve come to realize some things are missing in the book, so I will be writing 2-3 chapters scattered into the book to make up for it. And I’ll be working on those before I publish the epilogue, since they will contain some information necessary for it. Mostly regarding Lucian’s living arrangements, which we know very little of.
Whenever you’ll see a new chapter posted, look for its title in your notifications, and go find it in the book (or click on the notification, it should take you to it). They won’t be after this one, but somewhere in the middle-ish of the book.
And while we’re at it, thank you so much to everyone that has stuck around for this story! <3
【Epilogue】
Maeve’s heart had never been as full as it was when she stepped out of the church with Lucian at her arm. It didn’t matter if the sky was dark and rain wasn’t far, or if the many guests had gathered on the pavement to congratulate them. All that mattered was that she was now Maeve Thorne, Marchioness of Bath, Lucian’s lawfully wedded wife. Which was about damn time.
As he’d pointed out, his mother had gotten involved with preparing the festivities, and things had gotten a little out of hand. Ailia’s wedding had been of considerable size, but still somewhat reasonable. This, however, was the largest wedding this season, if not the largest one in a few years. The scandal about her family’s past had been solved, as the newspaper had issued an apology statement and retracted their original claims. Her father and Lucian had indeed handled it, and Ackley had even left the country shortly after everything had gone back to normal.
So, between her family’s reputation being back to its former glory, and the fact that Lucian was the newly appointed Marquess of Bath — after wearing the title of earl for a few weeks prior — everyone had wanted to attend this illustrious wedding. They’d even been forced to change their original venue, in favor of a larger church that could hold more guests.
Had they been in charge of their own wedding, they would have chosen an intimate ceremony in a private chapel with no more than twenty guests. But it didn’t matter anymore, because now, they were officially married before God.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked at Lucian instead of the friends, family, and acquaintances waiting on the paved forecourt. His eyes were on hers with equaling adoration, and the smile they exchanged was charged with love and utter happiness. Because they were free to do so now, and because the occasion called for it, he bent her way while she stretched her neck, and they exchanged a sweet and chaste kiss in front of their public.
It didn’t fail to trigger applause and cheers. The same acclamations had erupted when the priest had declared them husband and wife a few minutes earlier.
They pulled away, but the look they shared held the promise of so much more than that. Their love was unstoppable now, and no one would ever tear them apart again.
With the solid support of her husband’s arm, she descended the few steps before them. Lucian’s leg was doing much better again, but he still had his cane with him, in case the long moments spent standing up had proven problematic for his old injury. When the priest had asked them to rise from their kneeling position, she’d offered him the discreet support he’d needed by reaching for his hands and helping him up. Now, it was his turn to assist her so her brand new shoes, lovely but uncomfortable, wouldn’t make her fall.
Because he was right by her, her anxiety didn’t take over despite the many people that swarmed them for quick embraces and well-wishes. Since he knew she could spiral, he never let go of her, no matter how much they were pulled and tugged at. When it was her family’s turn, Maeve hugged them for the longest time, emotional tears gathering in her eyes. She would miss them greatly, but it was time for her to start her own family.
Then came Lucian’s sisters and mother, and she welcomed their embrace with enthusiasm. She’d met them all a few times in the past two months, and the fondness they had for Maeve always warmed her heart.
Eventually, they reached the four-horse carriage that awaited them at the end of the sea of guests. A valet in a blue livery opened the door for them, and before he could offer assistance to her, Lucian’s firm hand seized hers. She stepped into the splendid carriage, quickly followed by him, and they sat on the cushioned bench. Both looked out the window, waving at their guests until the driver spurred the horses into a medium pace.
As soon as the wedding’s attendees were out of sight, Maeve swiftly slid the silk curtains closed. Within a second, Lucian’s arms were wrapped around her waist, and their lips sought each other’s.
All the passion, all the love, and all the need they had for one another exploded at once, finally released after being contained for so long. Hidden in their little cocoon of privacy, they kissed in a way that would have shocked every single one of their guests, possibly making some of the proper ladies faint. As they held onto each other with unparalleled eagerness, their tongues grazed and teased, their mouths lost in a lustful dance they knew so well.
“I love you,” she breathed into their kiss.
“And I love you.”
He helped her when she endeavored to come closer, and after she’d battled with her skirts, she ended up straddling him.
“Those two months have been agony,” she whimpered. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“But you’ve had me,” he teased, depriving her of his lips to look at her.
In a way, he was right. They’d seen each other nearly every single day since that heartfelt moment in the yellow parlor in Langston Manor. But never alone. As her father had allowed, they’d met for chaperoned encounters, where he either visited for the afternoon tea or dinner. They’d also been invited to his place as well, although only at the Worthington Terrasse, and never his little house in Mayfair.
While they’d been closely watched during those visits, they’d still managed to steal a few precious seconds alone, where they’d kissed with intensity and exchanged a few naughty gropes. But never anything that had been enough to satisfy her craving for the man.
And her hunger for him had only grown stronger with each week.
In the past two months, they’d spoken a lot more than they’d used to, given that it was all they were allowed. She knew Lucian better than she ever had. He’d told her stories of his past, she’d shared some of hers, and she now felt as close to him as she would ever be. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t know about her, and vice versa.
Those two unbearable months had strengthened their bond, solidified their affections, and she wanted him more now than she’d ever had. She could understand why courting was such an important aspect of early relationships.
As she watched the beautiful man beneath her, the adored being she was boldly straddling, everything within her warmed up. Amorous and desperately aroused, she lowered to kiss the side of his jaw, dragging her lips on the neatly shaved skin that smelled of cologne and him.
“I’ve missed you in another way, husband,” she whispered in his ear. His hands at her hips tightened, clenching her soft flesh, and she bit back her smile.
“We don’t have enough time for this, Maeve. We’ll be at the terrasse in less than ten minutes.”
“We’ve been so deprived, five minutes will be enough,” she countered, nibbling at his lobe. “I think I could come in three. Couldn’t you?”
He groaned, and the low sound echoed in her core, making her insides clench around emptiness. He was so hard and swollen under her, begging to penetrate her. Her lips were busy covering his face in tender pecks when her hand slithered down his chest to cup the hard length she craved.
“I actually took measures this morning to make sure I’d last more than that,” he countered.
It required a moment for her to understand what he meant, but when she did, she leaned back with a frown and a pout. “Did you make yourself come?”
“Three times. Last one right before leaving for the church.”
The image flashed into her mind before she could stop it. She imagined him, in his fine suit, fisting his imposing girth, stroking himself until his pleasure erupted in white-hot strands. The fantasy didn’t help with her overheated state, and she sensed her cheeks burn red.
“Did you think of me as you did it?” she asked, hoping he had.
“I did, swan. I thought of all the naughty, dirty, and depraved things I will do to you tonight.”
A flash of arousal struck her, making her buck over his frame, pressing the aching spot between her legs against him. “I can’t wait until tonight,” she complained. “I want you so much… I’ll go mad before then.”
The very cocky smile he gave her melted her insides. When he sent his hands toward her front, shuffling with the mess of her skirts, she couldn’t hold back her victorious smile. As she’d guessed, he slipped a hand underneath the fabric, and his clever fingers found their way to the opening of her undergarment. She moaned at his first touch on her wetness, her entire body shivering above him.
“Well, that kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take care of my wife’s insistent urges?”
“Aah… Call me that again,” she demanded with a whimper.
“My wife?”
“Yes… I love the sound of it.”
“Maeve, my beautiful wife… Is all this for me?” With deft fingertips, he toyed with her folds, spreading around the wetness that seeped out of her.
“You know it is.”
Unable to resist him, she claimed his lips again with ravaging intensity. A soft cry passed from her mouth to his when he thrust two of his fingers inside her willing flesh. As he rhythmically fucked her with them, she began to writhe on him, overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations.
“You’re so bloody perfect, my swan… So soft, and warm, and drenched… And those sighs and moans… I could listen to your enraptured sounds all day long.” The agile touch of his fingers and the languorousness of his words brought her closer to her release, causing her to cry faintly. “Will you come for me, darling? Can you make me feel your walls clench and throb around my fingers?”
At that point, she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried. Her hands fisted the expensive fabric of his jacket, her whole frame tensing as an orgasm loomed within her. A few more strokes of his thumb over her swollen bud, a few more shoves of his fingers into her tightness, and she’d shatter in his arms.
“Hold me,” she begged, feeling as though she’d explode in a thousand pieces. His free arm came to wrap itself around her waist as he pulled her closer to him, his other hand still working its magic between her legs.
“Lucian… I’m coming.”
“I know. Be a good little wife and come for me, swan.”
His sensual order got the best of her, and the pleasure that had gathered in her lower stomach suddenly exploded to spread to her entire body. Lucian swallowed her soft cries of bliss, keeping her plastered against him as she trembled and bucked. She’d touched herself during the past weeks, unable to hold back the urges he’d introduced her to. But it had never felt as deliciously real and earth-shattering.
Somewhere in the back of her head, a thought breached through all the bliss. This man was now her husband. His attentions that were once so illicit were now hers to enjoy, without shame or worry.
For now and until death parted them. In a very, very long time, she hoped.
Lucian kept holding his marvelous wife as she came down, his fingers slowing their sweet torture between her legs. Once the waves of ecstasy stopped rippling through her, she was left all soft and replete over him. The satisfied smile stretching her lips filled him with pride and love.
It grew wider as she let out a very contented sigh, resting her head on his shoulder, her face toward his. He kissed her temple, squeezing her a little closer to him. How he fucking loved her.
His incredible Maeve.
“I still don’t think I can wait until tonight,” she confessed, her voice feeble. He chuckled, flattered by her desire for him.
When he motioned to remove his hand from beneath her skirts, she helped him by lifting herself slightly. Once he was freed, he eyed the result of his ministrations, his fingers coated with her orgasm. Having missed the taste of her, he didn’t resist the temptation and brought them to his mouth. He heard her small, shocked gasp as he engulfed his index. The sweet flavor of her spread on his tongue, making his cock achingly hard.
“It’s not fair. I want a taste too,” she complained. A little surprised by her request, he extended his middle finger her way, but she refused it with a small shake of her head. “A taste of you.”
“Ah, you’re missing out on something, then. You truly taste so fucking good.”
She processed his words, keeping a curious gaze over his slick finger. When she impulsively moved forward to welcome it past her lush lips, it was his turn to be surprised. He watched, entranced, as she sucked her juices off of him, her cheeks hollowing in the process. Damn it, maybe he should let her have a taste of him after all. Even though he’d anticipated this thrice, he didn’t doubt that he’d come within five minutes if she did to his erected length what she was doing to his finger.
She moved away, releasing him, and took a moment to evaluate the taste. A shrug lifted her shoulders as she cocked her head in a neutral approval. “If my memories are accurate, you taste better.”
He was tempted to offer her to refresh her memory, but held back. They would be at his family’s terrasse within minutes, now.
Instead, he kept her in his arms, enjoying her weight on him, the closeness of their bodies. He hadn’t experienced this in two long, insufferable months. When the carriage slowed, he helped her return to a more suitable position, adjusting the back of her dress for her. The flushness of her face wasn’t entirely gone, but at least she didn’t look like she’d orgasmed during the ride to the terrasse. People might assume they’d gotten a bit carried away with the kissing, though.
He exited the car first, and when she followed, he didn’t hesitate to grab her by the waist and lift her off the vehicle to lower her onto the paved sidewalk. His little show of strength brought more color to her cheekbones, and it delighted him. Behind their ride, more carriages were already stopping. Most of the wedding party had followed them for the rest of the festivities, and even more would join for the evening.
As much as he loved his mother, he wished they’d been able to contain her imposed meddling. He wanted nothing more than to drag his new bride to a bed and lock the door behind them, only to come out once a new sun had risen. If even.
Maybe they would. Given how many people would be there, he doubted their absence would be noticed. And even if it was, who would blame either of them? Sneaking around would actually be quite on point, since it was part of their story.
His patience lasted two hours. Two hours of greeting people, mingling, and entertaining acquaintances with small talk. Thankfully, Maeve was with him the whole time, which made it all a little more bearable. But after two hours of forcing himself to be cordial and acting like he wanted to be there, his ability to pretend was running thin.
They’d just escaped an old couple who profusely congratulated them on their perfect match when Lucian allowed himself to voice his desire to leave. “Do you want to disappear to the master’s bedroom with me?” he whispered into Maeve’s ear.
“Oh, God… yes. Please, I’m so done with all this.”
“Perfect. Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, heading for the closest door. Maybe they’d come back later, but he needed two to three hours alone with his lovely wife first.
They’d just exited the ballroom when they nearly bumped into her father. “Ah, there you are,” the duke greeted them with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get you two alone all day.”
With their fingers still entwined, Maeve pulled their joined hands to her back, as if the gesture was still illicit. “You have us,” she told her father with a tense smile.
“I have a peculiar gift for the two of you. As it is, I have too many children to start offering properties to each of them once they tie the knot. So I will not legally transfer the ownership to you two. But the house in Dorset is otherwise yours.”
Stunned, Lucian gawked at the duke, shocked by his generosity. Maeve was just as speechless, staring at her father with wide eyes. “Father, you don’t have to—”
“Of course I don’t. But I want to. You’ve always loved that house more than any of us. You even wanted to spend the rest of your life there. Now you’ll get to enjoy it whenever you wish.”
“But— Mama loves it too,” Maeve protested.
“We may ask to borrow it now and then. But she’s the one who suggested it, so don’t worry about her. Thank me with a hug instead.”
Maeve released Lucian’s hand to cooperate, wrapping her arms around her father. He held her in return, and Lucian could see the love he had for her, so strong and true.
“It’s too much,” she mumbled.
“Nothing’s too much for my little princess. And it’s not far from Bath, so you two should be able to head there easily. Certainly more often than we do.”
Maeve pulled away from him with a contrite look. “We will accept only if you promise that you and Mother will spend two weeks with us there every summer.”
He smiled in a soft way before nodding. “It sounds perfect, sweetheart.”
She hugged him once more, more intensely and briefly than before, and he kissed the top of her head. When they parted, her father turned to Lucian. “I don’t know how to repay you, my lord,” the latter expressed, extending a hand to shake the duke’s.
“How about you take good care of my daughter? Get her to the beach whenever she wants to chase seagulls and dig for treasures in the sand like the little pirate she is.”
“I’ve grown since those days,” she protested, her face blushing slightly.
“You don’t need my promise to know I’ll treat her like a queen,” Lucian argued. “You’ve raised her. You know she’ll chew my head off if I do anything less than that.”
The duke let out a loud, frank laugh, amused by Lucian’s understanding of his daughter. “That is quite true, actually,” he agreed once his fit of laughter was over. “Anyhow, I will let you two return to your guests. Just know that the staff of the Dorset estate has been made aware of this change. Feel free to head there whenever you please.”
They stayed where they stood as Maeve’s father left, walking back into the room with the others. When she looked up at him, her eyes were sparkly with excitement, and he could tell she had something in mind. “What is it?”
“Well… You know how we thought we’d just lock ourselves in a bedroom for three weeks as a honeymoon?”
“Hmm, yes?”
“Well, the master suite in Dorset has a lovely view over the beach. And there are no neighbors for nearly a mile around. And, there’s a—”
“You don’t have to keep going. I was sold at you chasing seagulls,” he teased, bringing her into his embrace. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see that happen.”
With a gigglish protest, she tried to push him away but failed. Unable to resist, he bent to kiss her, not minding who might witness his adoration for his wife. Today, of all days, he was allowed to forget himself a little. Or so he thought.
“Lucian!” his mother called. They ripped themselves from one another in a split second, and he turned to his genitor with unmasked annoyance. “Now that you are a marquess, you must behave, son,” she scolded.
“I’ll try to remember that. But how can I be expected to behave with a wife like this?” he countered, pulling Maeve close to him again.
“You will learn. Sorry, darling, you are indeed a beautiful woman,” she added to Maeve. “Now, you two come with me. My good friend Gertrude, the Countess of Sussex, wants to meet you.”
She didn’t wait for them to even agree, and headed back to the ballroom. With a grunt, Lucian brought his foot forward, ready to comply. But Maeve had other plans, and she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in the opposite direction. Like the mischievous minx she was, she pulled him behind her as she nearly ran away from the heart of the party. It seemed she was more eager to have him alone in a room than to meet the Countess of Sussex.
“Maeve, the stairs are this way,” he told her when she turned the wrong way.
“But the exit is that way. We obviously can’t stay here. We’ll be bothered every five minutes.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
She halted her escape, turned to meet him and plastered her front to his. With a delicate hand, she caressed the side of his face, her thumb grazing the scar on his cheekbone. “You’re taking me home. To your Mayfair house. I miss spending time there with you, your bed there, and how quiet it is. Just you and me.”
Mesmerized by her beautiful eyes, he couldn’t do anything other than nod. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for this woman.
“It’s our Mayfair house now,” he managed to say before nodding.
They resumed their escape, and just as they reached the main hall, they noticed Ailia standing there by herself.
“ Binak !“ Maeve called her, quickly joining her twin. Without any hesitation, the sisters hugged tightly. From what he knew, they’d barely had time to catch up since Ailia’s return from Italy. Married life was proving to be more time-consuming than anticipated, and the now Lady Hampden didn’t have much time left for social calls.
“If people start asking where we are, would you mind telling them I was feeling lightheaded?” Maeve impishly asked.
Ailia was a little disoriented, so it took her a moment to respond.“I— uh, yes. But where are you going?” Maeve wriggled her eyebrows at her sister instead of answering. Ailia rolled her eyes disapprovingly. “Seriously? You two can’t even wait for another few hours?”
“It’s been two months, Ailia! And I mean… look at my husband. I can’t resist this,” Maeve added, gesturing up and down at him. Lucian was honored, but also slightly flustered by Maeve’s very vocal statement.
Ailia sighed heavily. “All right, I’ll tell people you swooned so hard over your husband that we had to carry you out of the room. And you are in bed so you can recover while he’s lovingly watching over you.”
Maeve snorted, quite amused by her sister’s tone. “I mean… That’s quite accurate. Except I won’t be resting. Thank you, binak .”
With a quick, unexpected lunge forward, she kissed her sister on the cheek before grabbing Lucian’s arm again. He only had time to offer a vague, apologetic shrug to his new sister-in-law before he was pulled toward the door.
A valet posted there opened it for them, a little confused. Lucian ordered him to warn the stable staff that they needed a carriage ready as fast as possible, and they stepped out onto the porch. They only stopped when they reached the sidewalk. Maeve turned to him with stars in her eyes.
“We’ll have half an hour of snogging during the drive, and then… Then you’ll get to do to me all those dirty things you thought of this morning,” she explained with excitement.
“Snogging? Where did you learn that one?”
“Anita taught me. And she learned it from Delawney.”
“Who learned it from me.”
She giggled, turning to see if the carriage was coming their way already, for their ride to Mayfair. Her eagerness to be alone with him was endearing, and it made his heart swell in his chest.
Looking at her profile, her long neck, the length of her dense lashes, the beauty of her eyes… he felt overwhelmed. How on earth had he ended up marrying the most beautiful woman in the world? And not only that, but also the most passionate, most unique, and most perfect woman for him.
His wife. She was his wife.
“Maeve,” he called her softly. Her focus turned to him, and what she read in his eyes made her all serious in an instant. Delicately, he framed her face with his hands and bent to rest his forehead on hers, ignoring the passersby. “Maeve, my love, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”
The emotions that veiled her blue eyes matched his. “And you’re my best thing, Lucian.”
Just as they were about to kiss, the carriage pulled up next to them. But like the intrepid pirate she was, Maeve didn’t let it ruin her amorous mood. With their hands linked, she entered through the door that a valet opened, and he followed.
“Time for some snogging, officer,” she amusedly declared once they were seated and alone, pressing her side against his.
“That’s not proper lady’s language,” he falsely scolded.
“Lucian, there will be nothing proper about me for the next few hours. I’m a woman of loose morals, remember?”
With a smile large enough to split his face in half, he wrapped his arms around her, lovingly holding her tight. “How could I ever forget?”
Without another word, Lucian gave her what she wanted — a proper snogging.
Before she robbed him of his ability to think altogether, Lucian realized he must have been God’s favorite child. Otherwise, how could he have her?
His incredible Black Swan…
【Bonus Chapter】The Dorset Manor
The familiar hall was bathed in light when they entered it. It was good to be in Dorset, far from the overwhelming activity of London. Had Maeve not asked that they came here, Lucian might have done it himself. More than anywhere else, this felt like home.
It made all the sense in the world that Maeve had planned to spend her life here. There was something appealing about this manor, something uniquely tranquil.
Or at least, there used to be.
The children bolted to the staircase with excitement, ignoring the reprimands of their nanny, who followed suit with some luggage. During the entirety of their journey, they had begged and begged to be allowed to the beach as soon as they arrived. But despite their insistence, Maeve had remained firm in her decision that they ought to rest first.
It seemed the two little heathens they had spawned cared little about that, already on their way to change into more proper attires.
“You two are keen to take that nap,” Maeve caustically pointed out.
“Mommy, please,” Leigh, their five-year-old daughter, begged. “Can we go to the beach first?”
“We won’t be long,” their son added. At only seven, Hayden had already mastered the art of negotiations. The boy was as clever as his father when it came to strategy.
“If you go now, you will be exhausted by the time dinner comes, and you’ll fall asleep in your plates. First a nap, then the beach.”
With dramatic sighs of defeat, the children turned around and dragged their feet to the stairs. Domestics were coming and going, carrying their luggage and arranging the house after their long absence. Everything was hectic at the moment, but soon, it would all return to normal.
Since they tried to always show a united front as parents, Lucian had abstained from countering Maeve’s decision. But after weeks of being bored to death in their London terrasse, and then hours in that dreaded carriage, it made sense that their children would long for some fresh sea air.
He took a couple of steps toward his wife, wrapped a hand around her back at the waist, and bent to whisper into her ear, “My darling swan, I believe you are being a little unfair on this one.”
“How so?”
“You’re the one who needs a nap, my love. They have slept most of our way here—they don’t need more of it right now.”
Her lips pursed into a discontented pout, her brow arching. As always, she didn’t like being told she was wrong, too proud to admit it. But Lucian had learned how to navigate that reality with the years, and it was barely ever an issue anymore.
“Let them go to the beach. I’ll take a nap with you.” Just to make sure there would be no doubts about what he had in mind, he ran his hand down her back until he reached the roundness of her behind, and then he squeezed gently, enjoying her softness. The domestics paid them no mind, used to their displays of affection, unfazed by them.
A grin spread across his lips when he sensed her shiver against him, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, his breath almost abandoned him. Over eight years by this woman’s side, and she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever encountered.
“That doesn’t sound very restful,” Maeve noted, failing to contain her excitement at the prospect.
“It certainly won’t be, but it’ll knock you out until dinner.”
Her sly smile wasn’t missed on him, and when she returned her attention to the children, he knew he’d succeeded. The two little rascals were being overly dramatic, having barely reached the fifth step in their effort to display the extent of their reluctance to nap.
“Alright, you may go to the beach,” she told them.
“Really?” they both excitedly said.
“Yes. And you have your father to thank for it.”
“Oh, thank you, papa!” Hayden said first.
“I love you, daddy!”
“Thank me with a kiss before you leave,” Lucian insisted, right before they launched themselves up the stairs.
“Do not run,” Maeve ordered. The children obeyed at once, slowing their steps, but not much. Still standing by the entrance, they watched as the kids disappeared upstairs, closely followed by their nanny.
“You won’t regret it,” Lucian murmured into her ear. “We haven’t had a peaceful afternoon to ourselves in weeks.”
“We both know what happens when we have those.”
Chuckling low, Lucian lowered his gaze to her front and placed a hand over the roundness of her stomach. “Not every single time, thank God. And the good thing is, I can’t get you more pregnant than you already are.”
She was still reluctant, so he pressed a tender kiss on the side of her neck. “Come on, darling. Remember that week your parents took the children in?”
“Oh, I very much do,” she purred with a dreamy smile. They had spent four of those seven days locked in their bedroom, reminding themselves what it used to be like before their little hellraisers had arrived. Not that they had any regrets about having them at all.
“I’ll make all that fit into one afternoon,” Lucian bargained.
“Maybe not all of it. But we ought to make the best of it now, as things will get worse soon.”
“Or better.”
“Not where peaceful afternoons are concerned.”
Lucian had known from the start that she didn’t want an overly large family. Growing up with so many siblings herself, she worried that their parenting abilities might be decided among too many children, robbing each of them of the proper attention they deserved—not that her parents had done a poor job of handling their children with equal love and affection. It was simply one of the truths of having that many children to take care of.
As for himself, he would align his desires with hers. She was the one doing the carrying, and now that he’d seen her go through childbirth twice, he would never dare push his wife to more of it. The way he saw it, he was lucky enough to have had one child. Leigh and the future one were added bonuses, which he appreciated dearly.
That was the reason why they’d done their best to avoid conceiving, but being still very much attracted to one another, and always eager to engage in lovemaking, their odds weren’t too good.
“We’ll make it work, as always,” he said, kissing her temple intently. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t find time to take care of my wife’s needs and urges?”
“A bad husband indeed. Luckily for me, you don’t mind that I’m already full of your child. I might have gone mad otherwise.”
“I love fucking you when you’re pregnant,” he explained with unmasked delight. “Knowing I don’t have to pull out makes it all much better.”
“Not that you’re very good at pulling out in time,” she teased, touching her stomach and the little one growing within it.
“Two years between the first two, and now five years. Not only am I splendid at it, I’m also getting better.”
“You’re not too bad indeed. Ailia already has three. She has caught up with us fast.”
“Yes, but contrary to us, your sister and Maxwell want a whole litter of children.”
Maeve grimaced at the thought, which made him chuckle. Just then, their offsprings came back down with eager haste. They had changed into lighter, more comfortable clothes, and the nanny held two straw hats under her arm.
“Mommy, will you come with us?” Leigh asked, pulling on Maeve’s yellow light dress.
“No, Mommy needs to rest,” Lucian explained.
Disappointed, the dark-haired little girl pouted. “It’s not fun. All she does is rest.”
“It’s because of the baby, right?” Hayden intervened. “It takes a lot of energy to make a baby, doesn’t it?”
“It does. The whole process from start to finish is very physical.”
Maeve hit him in the flank with her elbow, not amused by his seamless naughty joke.
“Mommy, if you come to the beach with us, I will get you… a hundred seashells!”
“That’s a lot, my angel,” Maeve pointed out.
“It’s how much I want you to come!” Their daughter then offered them the widest, biggest smile she could.
That clever little thing had quickly realized that her toothless grins were irresistible. Ever since losing her top front teeth at a week’s interval, she’d been winning nearly every and any battle she’d waged. But her adult teeth were already poking out of her pink gums, so that strategy would eventually become useless.
When Maeve turned to Lucian with a slight grimace, he understood they wouldn’t be enjoying a quiet afternoon together after all.
“I’ll have the domestic bring a chair down to the beach,” he offered, bending to give her a tender peck on the temple.
“Are you coming too, Papa?” Hayden wondered with enthusiasm.
“Of course. We ought to start on our sand castle now, if we want to make it bigger than last year’s.”
His son’s massive grin made up handsomely for the change of plans. “I will get the tools!” he announced, bolting back upstairs.
With a shake of his head and a crooked smile, Lucian watched the boy climb the steps two by two. Then he bent over to his wife, pressing his lips by her ear.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be mine for the entire afternoon,” he whispered.
“I’m yours all the time, my love.”
“Mine only , then.”
She met his gaze, her blue eyes as mesmerizing as always. “You have yourself a deal, husband.”
His lips lowered to hers with earnestness, his hand clasping her delicate neck to keep her close.
“Ew, we talked about this already,” Hayden protested, already back with a small shovel and rake. “No kissing when there are people around.”
They parted, struggling to contain their amusement, and Maeve turned to their son with an arched eyebrow. “Is it me, or does this boy have a penchant for giving orders?”
“The kid’s born to be an officer, like his father,” Lucian pointed out, trying to be as serious as she was.
“Don’t give him ideas. I’m not watching another one of my men go to war.”
“I won’t,” Hayden stated with a matter-of-fact tone, having reached them. “I want to be a Marquess, like Papa.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
“Enough talking,” Leigh frustratedly mumbled. “If we don’t go now, we won’t have any time at the beach. Mommy will want us to leave when the sun is behind the hills, like always.”
“Alright, alright. Let us go,” Lucian agreed, resting a hand on his daughter’s hair and his wife’s lower back.
“The beach is my favorite way to spend an afternoon,” the little girl giddily declared once they were outside again.
“It’s my second,” he replied.
“What’s the first one?”
“That’s between me and your mother. You’re too young to get it— Ouch! Will you stop hitting me, woman?”
“Weren’t you supposed to get me a chair?” Maeve asked, unimpressed.
“Right, go ahead, merry band, I will join you.”
He didn’t have to insist, as his little family continued on to the beach. Leaning against the frame of the main door, he watched the trio walk toward the path in the tall grass. His chest swelled with pride and joy at the sight of his incredible wife holding the hands of their clever boy and witty girl.
Never had he thought he would deserve such a perfect life, by the side of the most perfect woman and their perfect children. Not after everything he’d been through, not with all the death, the blood, and the horrors he’d known.
But there he was… The happiest man in the world. And it was all thanks to her. There couldn’t have been anyone else, no one , who could have given him all that she had, who could have made him as fully happy as she made him.
His adored black swan…
Seated on the most comfortable armchair in the manor—which Lucian had brought down there with the help of two valets—Maeve lovingly observed her little family as they enjoyed their afternoon at the beach.
She was exhausted, in need of a long and restful nap, but she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes. Not when there was so much joy and happiness to be witnessed.
They had all dismissed their shoes and stockings, and Lucian’s things were thrown over the backrest behind her. He looked dashing, with just his pants folded up at the ankles and his white shirt, opened at the chest, and rolled up across his muscular forearms.
As she sat there, enjoying the view, she almost regretted that they weren’t “napping” instead, as originally planned. But every time her precious daughter came back with a new seashell, brandishing it with pride and a toothless smile, she was reminded that this was a more-than-worthy alternative.
Her pockets now held seventeen seashells, which Maeve would bring home and put with the other ones in the jars in the bedroom she shared with Lucian. The very bedroom she had planned to claim as hers for the rest of her life, but alone.
Like every time they visited the Dorset manor, Maeve reflected on the past, and on how things had turned out so entirely different from her original plans. She could still remember with vivid accuracy the conversation she’d had with her parents on a random afternoon when she was sixteen. Certain that she’d figured out the meaning of life and happiness, she’d announced that she would never marry and would never have children, but would instead live in Dorset with Ailia, where they would grow old together and never need anything more.
Even when Ailia had removed herself from the equation, Maeve had been too stubborn to see the truth, to accept that maybe her flawless plan was flawed.
But as she sat there, with her heart so full of love for the family she had built, she knew just how foolish her sixteen-year-old self had been. She knew how empty her life would have been had she followed her plans. The hall of the manor behind her would have been dreadfully quiet without the laughter of her children resonating against its walls. Afternoons at the beach like this one would have been meaningless had they not been there to entertain her. And the vast master bedroom would have been cold and unwelcoming, had her husband’s arms not held her through the nights.
The fact that she had almost missed all of this made her chest tighten. So close… She had been so close to having none of that…
Had Lucian not entered her life the way he had, had he not seen right through her, had he not pushed and broken her limits… she wouldn’t have known this. She would have missed it all, remaining oblivious to what it meant to be truly and utterly content. The mere idea of it turned her lungs shallow, making it harder to breathe.
No! She hadn’t had a panic attack in years. She wouldn’t have one now when everything was so perfect.
Her strength of mind, as it turned out, was both her greatest strength and her biggest weakness. But now, she had a man by her side who valued her because of it, but who also knew how to work around it. And she couldn’t love him more if she tried.
As if he could sense that she was thinking of him, Lucian looked away from the pile of sand he was gathering with Hayden, and gazed at her instead. She offered him a small smile, but he knew her too well to be fooled by it. After exchanging some quick words with their son, he came her way, trotting with so much ease that one would hardly guess his knee had once been in terrible shape.
“Are you alright, swan?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod and a sniff. “I just— I love you so much.”
“Oh, my darling,” he said with an indulgent smile, his worries fading. “Are you feeling very pregnant again?”
She nodded again, sniffing once more. Pregnancy made her particularly emotional, and like he always did, Lucian had easily learned to handle that aspect of her. “Yes, but I still love you to an unfathomable extent.”
“I love you too, my darling wife.”
He extended his hands toward her, and then pulled her to her feet when she took them. With tenderness and adoration, he held her against his warm body, his arms wrapped around her frame, his chin resting on the top of her head.
After a few seconds of this, he settled himself on the armchair, and then brought her to his lap, making her sit atop him. She worried about her weight for an instant, but dismissed it when he showed no signs of discomfort.
With her back laid on his chest, his peaceful breaths lifting and lowering her, she observed their children again. Her heart clutched with delight when her husband’s hands circled her to come rest on the sides of her round stomach, holding her possessively.
“Every fiber within me adores you, Maeve,” he whispered into her ear, kissing the soft spot right behind it. “I love you mind, body, and soul. Every morning, I wake up loving you more than I did the night before. And when I go to bed every evening that follows, I love you more than I did that morning.”
That didn’t help with her overly emotional state. Especially not when she turned to face him, meeting his eyes and all the meaningful things they contained.
“I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t even recall what it was like not loving you,” she expressed in return. “And I was so certain, so utterly convinced, that I couldn’t love something more than you, because how could the heart withstand anything beyond that? It would be too much.”
Her eyes traveled to the children, to Hayden and his sand castle, and to Leigh, who was crouching in search of more seashells, with the nanny by her side.
“But life proved me wrong,” Maeve continued, sensing her eyes water. “I love them more than life itself, more than anything I could ever love. It’s as though you’ve taught me to run, and they taught me to fly.”
When a tear spilled over to roll down her cheek, Lucian tenderly kissed it away before grazing her reddened cheekbone with the flesh of his thumb. Her neck twisted, to meet his mossy green eyes again, and her hand came to rest over his, over her heavy belly.
“And I know I’ll love this one just as much.” As if on cue, the little one underneath their hands kicked, wanting to be part of the moment as well. “Can you forgive me, Lucian, for loving them more than I do you?”
“There’s nothing to be forgiven about, swan. I know the feeling. There is no limit to what I’d do for these two,” he explained, glancing at their children. “And the same goes for you, but with them… it’s different. They are everything .”
“They are.”
His hands tightened around her stomach. “I cannot wait to meet our third child, so I can love him or her just as hard as I do our first two.”
Overwhelmed, she stretched her neck to kiss him, which he eagerly welcomed. For endless seconds, they shared a sweet and passionate moment, oblivious to their surroundings. She was so full of him that she felt as though she might burst. Her womb, her heart, her mind… he occupied all of her. Aside from that space between her legs, which was awaking from their kiss and position.
Her desire for her husband came to an abrupt halt, though, when Hayden shouted from his castle. “Not when there are people around!”
Lucian groaned into their kiss as she giggled. The moment was gone, but the love and contentment lingered.
When she wriggled to adjust their position, Maeve noticed with pride that she hadn’t been the only one getting a little too excited by their exchange. But now wasn’t the time to satisfy their appetites, so she ignored Lucian’s hardness and laid her head on his shoulder instead, getting comfortable.
“Rest, my darling. I’ll watch over you, and over all three of them.” His hand grazed her belly once more, ever so tender.
The peacefulness of the moment encouraged her to comply, her eyes fluttering closed.
Lulled by the sound of the waves, seagulls, and wind, enchanted by the voices and giggles of her children, and delighted by the sweet words her husband poured into her ear with the faintest murmurs, she drifted into slumber.
And as she did, she was aware, more than ever, that no woman could feel as perfectly content as she was at that very moment. It was simply impossible.
She was the only one with a Lucian Thorne, after all.
• • •
So, this happened! I hope you enjoyed reading this little extra as much as I did writing it! ;D
There’s something about Maeve and Lucian that just calls to me and my heart. I truly love them so. damn. much. Maybe it’s the way they are not only perfect for each other, but they are the ONLY option for one another other. Like, no one else could have ever worked out, no one else could have ever brought them happiness. Ugh, I love them.
【Darla’s Note】
Hey, hey, heeeyy!
That’s it,
The Black Swan and the Officer
is officially complete!
I hope you guys enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maeve and Lucian hold a special place in my heart because I love how flawed they are. I love the tension between them, and I love how they are a perfect match for one another. Literally no one else could be more suited for them.
The next work I’ll start is
The Collector
, a contemporary romance that can be found on my profile. However, I have a book planned for all the Langston siblings (aside from Manning). The next one that I will write on is Ailia’s, but please, note that I have NO idea when that’ll be. None. I have too many books that I want to write and too little time to write them.
You get to have a peek at her story in a blurb below, though, but I won’t be publishing an empty chapter so you can add the book to your library, as I usually do. Just make sure you follow me on Wattpad and on Instagram, so you get a notification when/if I ever start it.
Loads of love, everyone! And thank you again for sticking around for this one <3
London, 1818
Freshly arrived from the Americas, Seth Maxwell accepts the first well-paying job he finds. If he can prove that Thomas Everson, Viscount Hampden, was killed by his wife, he’ll get everything he needs to start his new life.
Ailia is quite enjoying the freedom widowhood offers, not missing the tyrant she naively married. That is until Mr. Maxwell enters her life. Rude, uncivilized, and terribly American, the man is suddenly everywhere.
For Seth, things get complicated from the moment he meets Everson’s widow. Not only is she disarmingly beautiful, but the vulnerability in her eyes also calls to his protective side. If he fails to keep a straight head around the woman, though, he’ll never secure the money he desperately needs.
On Ailia’s part, Seth brings unwanted complications as well. Despite how hard she tries, she can’t ignore that thing growing between them. Something powerful that she’s never experienced before. But given how the proper gentleman she married treated her, she worries about what this brute could do to her.
The Widow and the Brute
(Coming eventually)
