The Prince and the Spitfire - ✓
DarlaCassic · 57 chapters · 154,684 words
【Welcome】
Welcome to this great adventure, this impossible love story, set in 1790. You’ll find here moments of joy, frustration, sadness, and many other emotions.
Music is very important in this book, and with each chapter, you will get one classical piece linked to it. You can find those pieces at the very top of the chapters, or I have set up a Spotify playlist, in which all the songs are in the proper order. You will get which song is meant to be listened to at the beginning of every chapter. I try to keep things time-relevant, but I have weaknesses, so I share some of Beethoven’s work, even though most of it was written after 1790.
You can find the playlist on the Linktree on my profile bio.
I truly hope you’ll enjoy this adventure. Don’t hesitate to share it with people if you like it, or cast a vote, comment, anything really. Let me know you are here ;)
This is the full playlist, in case you can’t access it but would still like to check it out! ❤
【01】The Fool
Sonata in A Minor, K. 54, L. 241, by Domenico Scarlatti
“The air of the countryside is good for you, my friend. You are recovering well,” Schwarz declared with his thick German accent, taking another sip from his pint of ale.
Aiden grimaced, disagreeing with the statement. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could survive a summer in the country. He, however, didn’t have a choice. He hadn’t spent more than two consecutive weeks in the family manor since he’d left it ten years ago when he was sent to a boarding school in London. It had only taken eight days of exile to remember why he never stayed there for long. Distractions were nonexistent in the countryside, stuck near a small town between Leeds and York.
“Had it been my choice, I would have stayed in London,” he explained with bitterness.
He was used to his life in the city and the constant activities it offered. There was a different ball every night. There also was his sports club, where he practiced fencing and French boxing. He also enjoyed going to Johnson’s, where he played cards and let himself be entertained by the lovely hostesses.
“But with no allowance, I guess I am better off here,” Aiden admitted.
His father, the Duke of Leeds, had cut off his income and had ordered Aiden to come to their estate for the summer with the threat of disowning him otherwise. Being the only male heir, there were little to no chances that he would ever get disowned, but he had an estranged cousin who could inherit the title and wouldn’t hesitate for a second to accept it. Aiden was often worried about being a disappointment to his father one time too many, and getting thrown out of the family for it.
He also cared about what would happen to his three sisters and his mother if they had to rely on some distant relative to survive. So, for once, he had decided to obey his genitor, and would make himself discreet for the summer.
“Maybe next time, try not to cause a scandal?” Schwarz suggested with humor, an amused glimmer in his eyes.
“You know I didn’t do anything wrong. At least, nothing everyone else isn’t doing either. It’s that old bastard who should be banned from the city.”
“You were having an affair with his wife.”
“I wasn’t the first, and I’m confident some lucky lad is already replacing me. In all truth, it’s the viscount’s fault entirely. If you marry a young beauty, blonde and fair, you better be able to satisfy her needs. I only took it upon myself to console the poor lady. I’m a gentleman, after all…”
“One who got beaten within an inch of his life because of that young beauty.”
“No need to remind me,” Aiden grumbled, automatically resting a hand over his ribs where remnants of pain still lingered even weeks later.
It was certainly not the first time, nor would it be the last, that he got caught in a compromising position with a married woman. But the husband, in this case, had been particularly offended by his spouse’s infidelity. They had been caught in the act during a dinner party in London. The affair had been made very public instantly. A duel should have been considered, but Aiden’s skills with a weapon were well known by his peers, so the wronged husband had avoided it.
The old coward had preferred to resolve the matter in a much more discreet way. A group of petty thieves had given Aiden a few broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, a fair amount of bruises and superficial lacerations. Thankfully, none of his injuries had turned out to be life-threatening.
“I swear, if the viscountess hadn’t gotten that promise out of me, I would have taken revenge on that prick. But she truly has a gifted mouth,” Aiden explained, remembering how the beautiful blonde had kneeled before him to ensure no harm would come to her husband. She’d visited about a week after the assault, and they’d given it one last go before parting ways.
“Yes, I see how that could have worked on you. And you’re an upstanding and honorable gentleman.”
“Not always, but I’m a man of my word. I won’t avenge my wounded pride on the decrepit viscount. He’ll die soon enough, anyway.”
That one got Schwarz to let out a loud, genuine laugh, lightening Aiden’s somber mood. “Then maybe once she’s become a widow, you and the viscountess can return to your arrangement.”
“I’m afraid I’ve moved on. The novelty of her had faded even before this messy ordeal.”
“Really? Have you found someone here to replace her?”
Aiden grimaced once more, disliking the reminder that he had, indeed, been on a forced period of abstinence. “I’m stuck here with the servants while my family has traveled to London for the Season. Everyone with a modicum of importance in a twenty-mile radius is there as well. If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s fuck commoners. It gives them an inflated sense of self, and I can’t deal with the attitude.”
“Ah, I guess a future duke is owed only the best,” Schwarz pointed out with some sarcasm.
Worried he might have insulted his old friend, Aiden tried to find a way to justify his somewhat clumsy statement. “You know I have the highest esteem for you, Schwarz. Despite being thirty years older than me, you have more dexterity than I ever will. You’re the great Diedrich Schwarz, the best violinist I know and a fantastic composer.”
The man dismissed the flattery with a vague hand gesture, embarrassed by the effusion of praises. That was something Aiden really liked about the German. Until now, his mentors had only been stiff old men who were convinced they were God’s gift to humanity. Schwarz was a simple man with incredible talent, and he didn’t let it go to his head.
“Yes, yes… This is why you pay me to teach you.”
“Or at least try to teach me.”
“Oh, yes. This is a consuming task that even takes up some of my vacations!” It was Aiden’s turn to burst out laughing. He’d somehow truly missed the man, and finally having some company was greatly appreciated.
Schwarz was on his way to Scotland, where he intended to spend a few weeks in search of inspiration for a new symphony. He was traveling with his pregnant wife and two children, so Aiden had insisted they stayed the night in the manor to rest and freshen up. They had refused at first, but wouldn’t risk offending the future Duke of Leeds when he had demanded it.
Today, as if God himself had heard his prayers, some distraction had come to deliver him from this tedious hell. Here in the country, he only had horse riding and a library full of old and dusty books to occupy his effervescent mind. So Aiden had made the best of it.
They had spent a good part of their afternoon in the music parlor for a lengthy lesson. After two hours of frustrating lessons, Aiden had proposed to go for a stroll in the village, followed by a stop at the pub, while Mrs. Schwarz would enjoy a quiet evening in the manor.
Even though the young lord was often praised for his talent with a violin, he couldn’t help but envy his teacher’s skills. For over two years, he’d tried to learn everything he could from his mentor, but there had been no further signs of improvement for a few months now, which frustrated them both.
This was the reason why he was here, in the most decent looking pub in town, with his mentor by his side. “Maybe we should head back before your wife scolds me over how much of your time I’m taking,” Aiden declared, before necking the rest of his beer. It was getting quite late, and if the Schwarzes were to leave early in the morning, they ought to return to the manor.
In minutes, they were out in the streets, on their way back to the carriage. The surrounding air was humid, but it didn’t seem like it would rain. Now that summer was finally here, the weather would be more agreeable.
“I should make you play, now that you have had a few glasses,” said Schwarz. “Your problem, you see, is that you think too hard when you play.” Aiden frowned. Of course, he was focused when playing. He didn’t want to make a mistake and humiliate himself. “You know the songs by now. You can let go, and let your soul take over, be the music. Alcohol should help with that!” He laughed for a moment, and put his hand on Aiden’s shoulder, bending toward him, as if he was telling him a secret.
“You see, you treat music like science, like mathematics, but the truth is that it is an art, a thought, a dream, an idea…” Aiden could see the passion, the enlightenment in the man’s eyes, and he envied it. Nothing in his entire life had ever felt as important as music was to Schwarz. “Your technique is flawless, but you don’t play with your heart. Only with your head. Music should move you. It should make you feel things.” He paused, allowing Aiden to process that new information. “Do you feel anything when you play?”
Aiden shook his head. When he flawlessly completed a piece, he felt only satisfaction. There was an undeniable pride when his audience would stand to applaud his performance. He even experienced some form of pleasure when he mastered a new score after hours of practice. But the act itself never moved him.
As if they had conjured it, music rose from the streets. The faint, delicate sound of a violin came to their ears. Schwarz froze instantly, with only his head moving left and right, trying to find the direction of the melody.
Without a word, the German moved toward the sound, as if he were suddenly possessed. Aiden followed him, intrigued by his behavior. He had seen him like this before – often when composing. It was as if music became the only thing that mattered, the essence of life itself.
When they approached, Aiden understood why Schwarz was reacting so strongly to the sound of the violin. Whoever was playing held incredible talent. The notes were impressively accurate and the music utterly melodious. After a few turns, they arrived behind a small gathering. Elbowing his way in, unconcerned by the people surrounding him, Schwarz made it to the front row as Aiden went along.
Bewilderment struck him as he barely held his jaw from dropping. He didn’t know precisely what he had been expecting, but not a woman, and certainly not one so young. To add to the surprise, she had to be the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.
The beauty was standing in front of a door, and the first thing Aiden noticed was her thick hair, as dark as a moonless night, and he could guess at the abundant curls, even though they were kept in a long braid that rested on her shoulder.
As if compelled to, Aiden took a moment to admire her, his curiosity demanding it. Her eyebrows were arched gracefully, and of her closed eyes, he could only see dense fringes of eyelashes, so long the shadow of them extended on her cheeks. The nose underneath was straight and narrow. Luscious lips followed, plump with a shade of dark pink. Her head was tilted toward the violin, exposing the delicate slope of her throat. Something in the woman looked deliciously exotic, and it was a welcomed change from the fair English women he constantly saw.
Captivated by her vibrant beauty, it took him a while to realize what she was. Her blue dress was poorly cut, the fabric was coarse, her abundant silver jewelry was simple, mostly hammered, and her skin had a natural tan that left no doubts on her origins. She was with the flock of bohemians who had arrived earlier this week.
Aiden turned to his mentor, only to realize that the man was utterly bewitched. He’d never seen Schwarz so entranced. He was so focused on the woman that he wasn’t blinking. His mouth was hanging open in silent awe as his eyes sparkled with emotions. Knowing the German, it probably had little to do with the lovely physique of the woman, but everything to do with her talent with a violin instead. Curious, Aiden watched her play.
Her fingers were delicately holding the bow as if it could break at any moment. Her other hand was gliding with incredible ease on the neck of the violin. She made it look effortless, but the notes that she emanated from her instrument were anything but easy. Considering how poorly equipped she was, he wondered what she could have done with his Stradivarius.
She still hadn’t opened her eyes, and she was lightly swinging with the music. Her brows frowned and relaxed with the melody. Looking at her was a spectacle even greater than the music she produced.
Finally, the song ended. After one last, long, and fainting note, silence took over. Nothing happened for a moment, and then she set down her bow and violin before opening her eyes. A few of the people gathered around cheered, while some were already moving along. The bohemian smiled humbly and bowed. When she straightened up, and her gaze scanned the crowd, in search of benefactors who might be inclined to compensate for her efforts.
Following their course, her eyes eventually locked on Aiden’s. For a split second, he forgot how to breathe. Those dark irises of hers were pulling him toward a blissful void, one he would be more than willing to drown in. She held his gaze for a moment,blinking once, twice, before turning her gaze away.
Putting down her instrument, she grabbed a small wooden box. She shook it a little, making the coins inside jingle, and walked among the crowd, asking for a few pennies.
Schwarz, who finally broke free of his wonderment, patted his coat to get his purse. Aiden did the same. When the bohemian came to them, they both dropped a few coins in her box. She smiled politely, making Aiden’s heart beat a little faster, and moved on to the next spectators.
“That was…” Schwarz started, unable to find the proper words. “That was unexpected. Do you see what I mean now? When I tell you to feel the music?” The man was so excited that his accent sounded thicker than usual. Aiden nodded vaguely, his attention still on the elegant silhouette of the woman making her way through the people. “It is one of the things I love about music, you see. With some hard work and determination, anyone can make it,” Schwarz explained.
She was too young to have really worked that hard, Aiden thought. It was clear to him that she was particularly gifted. “Maybe I should ask her to come by the manor and give me some lessons,” he humored. As if a bohemian could teach anything to the son of a duke.
“I know you are jesting, but it isn’t such a bad idea. I fear I have reached an impasse with you. From now on, I cannot improve your technique anymore. You need to unlock something inside of you to get to the next level.” He turned to see the woman who was reaching the last bystanders. He gestured toward her and asked, “Did you hear her mistakes when she played?”
Aiden hadn’t heard any, and he was familiar with that piece. “Did she make any?” he asked doubtfully.
“She made several, yes,” said the German. “But you see, they were like improvements, like her own take on this song. She didn’t just play a piece –she lived it, and you could feel it. She was going slower than required at times and then sped up. Sometimes she would play a note for a little too long…”
Aiden was lost. So now he had to make mistakes to play a song perfectly? This was ridiculous and disrespectful to the composer.
His thoughts were cut short when he saw the bohemian coming back. He kept a discreet eye on her. As she neared them, she tripped. Aiden reached out to prevent her from falling. The moment she heavily bumped into him, a shiver ran through his entire frame. Her soft shape was pressed against him, and he caught a whiff of something flowery. She stayed there for a moment, then lifted her face to look up at him. Swiftly, she regained her composure and moved away from him. Too quickly for his tastes.
“I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed with an accent he couldn’t determine. “My apologies, gentlemen, I’m afraid my fatigue has gotten the best of me.” She went to put her instrument in its case and turned to them one last time before leaving. “I’m very sorry again, milord.” And with that, she disappeared into an alley.
Still under the influence of their bodies’ proximity, Aiden stared at the alley for a while, tempted to follow her. Schwarz cleared his throat to have his attention. “Maybe you should ask her for some advice after all. I think you could enjoy many things from her… Other than her music lessons.”
Aiden grinned. His wonderment hadn’t been discreet at all. He turned to his friend. “I will meet you at the carriage. I have a tutorage to secure.” Without waiting for an answer, Aiden went to the narrow street she had disappeared into. With a determined pace, he looked for the woman. She couldn’t have gone far so quickly.
He searched for her at every intersection, but she was nowhere to be found. Just as he was about to give up, he caught a splash of blue in the darkening light, standing in an adjacent dead-end street. Relieved, he went to her. As he approached her, he realized she was counting her coins. She was just done with the wooden box when she reached into an opening in the side of her dress, taking out a small leather pouch from it.
One just like his.
He patted his coat and realized it was missing from his pocket. Bloody hell… The little minx had stolen his purse when she had fallen into his arms, which she probably did on purpose. Damn it, he felt like an idiot.
She emptied it in her hand, a broad smirk lightened her face. She started counting those coins as well, Aiden swallowed his pride before moving forward.
“You know I could have you hanged for this, right?” He said in a menacing voice when he got close enough.
The woman turned to him, petrified with horror, her eyes wide open.
Hey guys! Thank you for reading the first chapter of The Prince and the Spitfire! I hope you are enjoying it so far, and get ready for a tumultuous ride! I hope that Aiden is to your taste ;)
As you will see, I try to give you guys at least one song per chapter, so here you go, this is Aiden’s song: Sonata in A Minor, K. 54, L. 241, by Domenico Scarlatti .
【02】The Fire Spitter
Canon and Gigue in D Major, P. 37: I. Canon, by Johann Pachelbel
When Amalia opened her eyes, she traveled from the mind palace the piece had taken her to, only to return to the small square she was standing in. More people had stopped to listen to her play, which would mean more coins than she’d anticipated. Although, a few spectators were already scattering around. She bowed, eager to pass around and gather whatever money her audience would give.
After she straightened up, she took a moment to quickly assess who was left. By now, she’d learned to recognize who was of interest, and she had to get to them before they left. Most of them were simple folks who surely wouldn’t give her much, despite their enjoyment of her craft.
Her gaze stopped scanning the crowd when it collided with a pair of intense eyes. The man who owned them was different from anyone else here. Not only did he seem opulent, but he was also taller than the rest, and remarkably attractive. With the fairness of his blond hair and the incredible blue of his eyes, there was something almost angelic about him. Once she managed to look away from his intense stare, Amalia noticed the rest of him. The clothes on him were expensive and tailored – betraying just how wealthy he was. He was either a successful merchant or some aristocrat. He was a sight to behold; nothing like the rest of the people she had seen in the village.
Him. She needed to go to him. For he’d certainly give her more than everyone else put together. Setting her violin down, she grabbed her money box and walked among the people that remained, heading in the direction of the striking gentleman. The man was with someone – a middle-aged blond she hadn’t noticed. The companion gave her something first, and the handsome man followed. He took out a pouch, heavy with money, from a pocket inside his jacket. As suspected, he gave her two big coins, and then shoved his pouch back into its place, right under his left rib cage. Dismissing them for now, she moved on to the rest of the rapidly fleeting crowd.
The man’s leather pouch remained in her mind all the way to the end of the square. It would be easy money, and it was right there for the taking. She’d been here all day, playing her violin despite the cramps in her fingers and the soreness in her neck. If she didn’t have enough money by the time she got back to the camp, her father would probably think she’d spent her day doing nothing again. When possible, she avoided having to endure his harsh punishments. Admittedly, Amalia already had enough to ensure her father’s contentment.
But she needed more. She always did. For years now, she’d been saving some of her earnings, coin by coin, to have enough to leave one day. At this rate, she would be able to flee in about a decade. It was an awfully long time to wait, but she was willing to do anything if it meant she’d be independent, free of her overbearing brothers and demanding father.
When she turned around, the alluring man was still there, talking to his older friend. That settled it. She’d take his pouch, flee, and it would bring her one step closer to the day she’d be a free woman. Her sleight of hand was good, although not as good as her brothers, but she’d worked on it enough to know she could pull it off. It wasn’t something she did lightly, but this opportunity was too good to be missed.
Once she was close enough, she pretended to trip on her dress, falling forward onto the man. He reacted instantly, and while he grabbed her shoulders to secure her balance, her hand landed on his side – right where the pocket with the money was. He caught her as if she weighed nothing and helped her back on her feet. She had to admit that throwing herself in his arms wasn’t a bother at all. He smelled good, and the firmness of his chest against hers made something flutter in her stomach. After she’d gotten her hand out of his pocket and had safely put the pouch in hers, she pulled away and admired his features.
The first thing she noticed was his eyes. She’d guessed they were beautiful from afar, but from up close, the color was even more compelling. They were a shade of very light blue, unlike anything she’d seen before. It could have made him seem cold and distant, but his gaze felt like fire, warming her from the inside out. His square jaw was clenched, and his lips were stiffly pinched. She could have remained like this for a long time, but she remembered she had to flee before he realized she’d robbed him.
Pulling away from the man, she didn’t even have to faint the fluttering of her voice when she apologized. She was so preoccupied by the way her heart was hammering in her chest, she could barely think of the pouch filled with riches she’d just stolen.
Her composure regained, she went to fetch her things and left quickly, excusing herself once more. A few twists and turns later, she found herself hidden deep into the village, in some random alley. Hidden there, she counted her last earnings of the day before moving on to the man’s pouch. Extreme satisfaction struck her when she realized there were at least four pounds in there. This was more than she made in months! She was counting the last pennies when a deep, hoarse voice rose menacingly from her left.
“You know I could have you hanged for this, right?” a man asked.
Amalia turned around instantly, and her face became a deep shade of red when she recognized him. Those icy blue eyes had nothing warm in them anymore. They only exuded danger.
Her first instinct was to run away, but as she glanced around, she noticed that she had trapped herself in a dead-end. After she’d mumbled a curse under her breath, she looked up at the man. There was no way to escape this, so she’d face the consequences of her actions with a strong head. She was a proud bohemian. She would deal with it like so.
Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, she gave the man a feisty glare. “My people consider that if you go out with that much money on you, you deserve to get robbed.”
The hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Well, my people consider that if you steal any amount of money, you should go to jail for it. Moreover, if you steal it from an earl, a future duke nonetheless, you deserve to hang for it.”
Amalia’s strong composure didn’t last long, and she panicked again. What had she done? She didn’t want to die! Fear overtook her, her breathing quickened; she couldn’t think straight anymore.
“Calm down,” said the man as he approached, standing right in front of her. “I won’t let you hang for this. It would be a terrible waste.” He paused, looked at her from head to toe, and added, “How old are you?”
“I’m nineteen,” she said, slightly wary.
The man seemed satisfied with this information, and Amalia understood why. He wanted her. He would negotiate her body in exchange for her life.
“How much was in there?” he asked, gesturing toward the pouch she was still holding.
“Four pounds, eleven shillings and three pence,” she answered, suspiciously squinting her eyes at him.
For that much money, he could easily have her hanging from a tree. But maybe he was a reasonable man? Maybe he would forgive her after some apologies, a pitiful comment about her situation, a mention of her poor sisters? Maybe even leave her with a few coins? She would do anything to leave this situation unharmed and untouched.
“How would you like to make that amount every day for the rest of the summer?” the man proposed.
Her eyes widened with shock. Dear god! Was she actually worth that much money? Over three hundred pounds for two months. That was more than she could expect to make in years. That was enough for her to buy her independence and finally run away from her life – enough to start a new one somewhere else. The offer was incredibly tempting, so she thought about it for a moment. All she would have to do would be to lie down and wait for him to be done with whatever he wanted to do to her. For two months. Then she would be free of everything, her father, her brothers, this life…
When she met the man’s eyes, her decision was almost made. He was attractive enough to make this less of a chore than it would be. She’d have something nice to look at while it happened. And given the way her body had reacted when she’d collided with him, she could almost believe she’d enjoy some of it. Before she could reach a satisfactory conclusion, though, something rebelled deep inside of her. Her mother had always told her they weren’t whores. They didn’t lay for money. That would always be beneath them. Amalia had always taken care of herself. She didn’t need to rely on this man’s money to keep doing it.
Once more, she straightened up, trying to look imposing, even though the man was at least a foot taller than her. “I’m not a whore. I won’t let anyone treat me like one. Especially not some blue-blooded fool who needs to bed lesser women to feel powerful!” Amalia regretted the words as soon as they came out. Once more, she had spoken faster than her brain could process, but this time, it might cost her her life.
The man stared at her in shock. The seconds stretched, and finally, something happened. An uncontrollable laugh overtook him. Amalia frowned, confused. Was he mocking her? It took him a while to be able to talk again. He cleared his throat, quenching the rest of his laughter. “Believe it or not, it isn’t quite what I had planned. Although, we can keep it in mind.” He was toying with her, and she didn’t like to be made fun of.
“If it isn’t sex you’re after, then what do you want from me?” she dryly asked. He seemed a bit taken aback by her forwardness. It would make sense that he wasn’t used to women speaking so crudely. He smiled again, shook his head, and looked at her with puzzlement.
“You are quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” Amalia didn’t know what it meant, but his tone sounded more appreciative than insulting. “What I want, you see, is for you to teach me to play the violin as you do.” He paused, waiting for her to answer.
What? He wanted to learn how to play the violin? Was this some trick to get her to his place?
“I’m not a teacher,” she replied. “For that money, you could easily find an actual one who can teach you how to play.”
“I have one. He’s among the best in the country to tell you the truth. However, he, himself, told me you could teach me a thing or two.”
“I couldn’t,” she replied. “Maybe my father. He is the one who taught me.”
“No, it has to be you.”
“Why?”
“For one, I have never seen anyone play as you do. Also, I believe you are a lot nicer to look at than your father,” he added with a quick wink and a charming grin.
Amalia was confused. Could she really teach him anything? Wouldn’t he decide it was a waste of time and money and just stop the lessons? She genuinely had no idea how to pass her knowledge onto him. But even if he realized the errors of his ways, she could make a lot of money very easily.
“How do I know that I can trust you?” she asked.
Disconcerted, he frowned for a second, glancing down at his purse in her hand. She could understand his confusion, but Amalia’s concerns held more importance than money. What insurance did she have that the man wouldn’t ask for a different kind of arrangement later on? How could she be certain he wouldn’t abuse and force himself on her when they were alone during these violin lessons?
“I won’t sleep with you, so just forget about it altogether.”
“Love, I can snap my fingers and have three willing women running my way,” he declared with unmasked cockiness. “I promise, this isn’t what I have in mind.”
His answer reassured her, and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “If we do this,” she added, “you have to pay me every day, not just all of it at the end of the summer.” He nodded in agreement. “Nobody can know about our arrangement. If my father knew how much money I’d be making, he would take it away from me.” His eyes darkened for a second, and he nodded again.
“My people will know that you are coming for lessons, but no one will know how much I’m paying you, is that enough?” It was her turn to nod. “Very well. Do you have anything else in mind?”
Amalia shook her head. “Not at the moment, but I might in the future. I will let you know if anything comes to mind.”
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands before rubbing them vigorously. “You will come to Langston Manor tomorrow afternoon. We will start the lessons then.” He pointed to her hand, still clutching the purse. “You can keep it as a down payment for securing your tutorage.” With that, he bowed gracefully, winked, and left her there.
Amalia stared at the corner he’d disappeared into for a long time, whiplashed by what had just happened. What kind of situation had she gotten herself into? The Langston manor was the largest estate for a hundred miles around. This man’s family was among the most important in the kingdom. And somehow, she’d been unlucky enough to steal his purse?
Now she’d have to give him lessons, knowing fully well that he could have her hung for what she’d done. The money he offered was a blessing, but the risks she’d take were counter-balancing it all. No amount of money was worth dying for.
But she didn’t have a choice, did she?
Now that we know both protagonists, tell me what you think of them!
Amalia’s song is this beautiful, orchestral piece, both light and complex, that makes me shiver with content: Canon and Gigue in D Major, P. 37: I. Canon, by Johann Pachelbel .
【03】First Lesson
Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004: V. Chaconne, by Johann Sebastian Bach
The following afternoon, as agreed, Amalia arrived at the estate. As soon as she passed the gates, she felt underdressed, intimidated, and like she didn’t belong. Being there only confirmed her suspicions. The Langston family was immensely wealthy, and their reach must’ve extended to the King himself.
While the man had mentioned a manor, this was actually a castle by anyone’s standards. It was near a large lake, an impressive construction with large towers framing it, too many windows for her to count, four levels, balconies, and at least twelve chimneys… The white stones were clean of any trace of time, making the castle almost surreal. The front garden was incredibly well maintained, and there wasn’t a leaf out of place. She felt ashamed to stand in this perfect environment with her crumpled brown dress, her quick braid, and her damaged violin case.
Holding onto her pride, she walked all the way to the massive structure. There was too much at stake to chicken out and go back the way she came. To help herself remain calm, she focused on the sound of the gravel under her feet, the birds chirping, and the leaves blowing in the wind. The quiet sounds of nature were always appreciated, as she was growing tired of the constant racket where she lived.
Once she reached the building, she hesitated for an instant before climbing the stone steps that led to the entrance. She could do this. It was over four pounds a day; it was worth taking some risks. Cautious, she palmed the side of her dress, feeling reassured when she felt the knife in her pocket. She wasn’t defenseless after all. Her brothers had taught her how to wield the blade, and if the man dared to touch her, she wouldn’t hesitate to threaten him with it.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the massive door knocker, a gargoyle holding a large ring in his mouth, and knocked three times. She waited for a while, but no one answered. She was about to try again when the door finally opened. A middle-aged man, standing straight as an arrow in his perfect livery, examined her and winced.
“We don’t have a job for you, bohemian. Leave before we make you,” he declared with disgust in his voice.
Outraged, Amalia was about to defend herself vehemently when someone else came to the door. It was the earl, as stunning as the day before.
“Appleton, please,” he intervened. “This is my guest, the lovely…”
The Lord realized he’d never even asked for her name. He turned to her with a questioning look on his face.
“Amalia. I’m Amalia Romero.”
He nodded with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Amalia Romero. I’m Aiden Langston.” He then turned back to the butler. “This is Amalia Romero, and she is here to teach me the violin.”
Hurt in his pride, Appleton cleared his throat. “Milord, she should use the domestic entrance then, like every worker here.”
“Nonsense,” the earl countered. “Would you have let Schwarz and his family use that entrance?”
The butler was positively unimpressed. “No, milord,” he admitted, “but the Schwarzes were—”
The earl cut him before he could finish. “Appleton, you will treat Miss Romero with the same respect you do any of my guests. Is that clear?” The domestic nodded dryly and moved out of the way, allowing Amalia to come in. “I’m sorry about that. I will make sure everybody here knows you are my guest. It won’t happen again.” She simply nodded, she was used to being treated in a much worse manner.
Gallantly, the earl led her inside while the domestic left. “I’m Aiden Langston, by the way. Earl Graham, son of the Duke of Leeds. Here, this is for you,” he added, handing her a small envelope. It was the money. Before he could change his mind, she took it and put it in her pocket.
Once it was safely tucked next to her knife, she looked around with wonderment. The place was magnificent. The outside was stunning, but inside, everything was splendid. There were details everywhere, either cast in gold or carved into the finest woods. The floor was composed of at least five types of marbles, and there were paintings, flower arrangements, and statues… Even the wallpapers were fine and delicate all with intricate and elegant patterns.
“May I ask how you got here?” the earl enquired.
“I walked.”
“Do you live far from here?”
“Not really. About four miles east.”
“I will have a carriage ready when you go back.”
“No. There is no need for—”
“I’m afraid I will have to insist. I cannot, in good conscience, let you walk eight miles a day. Who knows what bandits or crooks are out there.”
Amalia didn’t comment on the fact that she was more worried about him than the men out there. Her people were the bandits and crooks his people usually feared. “Then I will have them drop me half a mile from the camp,” she conceded, thinking she could always make him change his mind later. “My camp cannot see me arrive like this. They will know I’m hiding something otherwise. They can’t know about our arrangement.”
They walked again, and she followed him distractedly, captivated by her surroundings. On their way to wherever he was leading her, they passed paintings that were taller than her, a mirror the size of a window, and a window the size of a wall. Once more, Amalia wondered what she was doing here. They finally stopped in front of a door, and he opened it before moving to the side, inviting her in.
Amalia entered a magnificent room that contained various instruments, including a grand piano, a cello, a bass, and a whole glass cabinet filled with violins. She put down her case and went to see them from up close. Each of them looked brand new, untouched.
“Those are mostly here for decoration,” he explained behind her. “My violins are in London. I only brought the Stradivarius with me.” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she thought nothing of it. She turned to him and nodded. He went to get his case near the fireplace and sat down to open it. Amalia came closer to see the instrument. Compared to the others, it was clear that this one was used frequently, even though it was in impeccable condition. He took it out along with the bow, got up, turned to her, and waited.
She went to get her own instrument, embarrassed by its poor condition. The varnish was peeling off, the hair on her bow was falling apart, and two of the strings needed to be changed. She stood in front of him, uncertain of what to do. If he’d already had violin mentors, what exactly was he expecting from her?
“Could you play something, milord, so that I can assess your level?” she asked after a moment.
“Oh please, don’t call me ‘milord,’ that is way too formal. Call me Aiden.”
Amalia frowned. “I’d rather not, milord .”
He poorly attempted to hide a smile, and Amalia wondered if she should be more amiable from then on. Eventually, he’d grow bored with her attitude, and losing this opportunity and all the money it offered would be a shame. For now, though, he said nothing and took position in front of her, tucking the violin into the crook of his neck, raising the bow.
Before he’d even started, Amalia suspected he was an incredible musician. His posture, the placement of his fingers, the way he held the bow… He knew how to play, and he was extremely familiar with this instrument. So when the first notes echoed into the silent room, her suspicions were confirmed.
He played a piece she wasn’t familiar with, but she easily guessed he executed it to perfection. Incapable of looking away, she stared at him, admiring his form and listening to the amazing tunes he so easily produced.
When her astonishment eventually faded, embarrassment overtook her. He’d lied to her, and she’d fallen into his deceptions like an idiot. The man had no need for a teacher. He was obviously better than her at this. It had all been a ruse to lure her here. Tears of anger and shame welled up in her eyes, and she refused to let the despicable liar see her dismay. Turning abruptly, she put her violin back into its case. She was barely done settling it in when the music stopped. Seconds later, a firm hand caught her arm.
Aiden had chosen one of his favorite pieces, a very technical piece he had mastered after hours upon hours of hard work. Of course, his primary motivation was that he wanted to impress her. He was reaching the most technical part of it when he noticed she was packing her instrument. Setting his violin down, he moved to grab her, his strong fingers wrapping around her delicate arm.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving!” she snapped, turning toward him with her dark eyes. “You had your fun deceiving the simple girl that I am, but I won’t be mocked any longer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t need me to teach you, you are better than I am at this!” she argued, gesturing toward his violin.
“But… no, I’m not,” he said, confused.
She exasperatedly rolled her eyes and freed her arm from his grasp with a harsh tug. She was just done putting her violin away when he reached for her again. “Please, don’t leave. I swear this isn’t some joke. When I saw you yesterday, my mentor was with me and he agrees. You have something, Amalia. A raw talent. Please, stay,” he insisted when she tugged to release her arm. “Even if it is a joke, don’t you think that four pounds, eleven shillings, and three pence would make up for it?”
Clearly, she was a proud woman who didn’t like to be made fun of. But money was her weakness, and it had been from the start. He still remembered how she’d considered agreeing to the deal, even when she thought he wanted to bed her. He couldn’t even imagine what hardships a woman as fierce as she was must have been through to even contemplate such an arrangement. She stayed silent for a moment, and he could almost see the thoughts running through her mind. As soon as she reached a conclusion, she calmed down and offered him a silent nod.
With her shoulders squared and her chin propped up, she took out her violin once more and went to the middle of the room, her composed face impassive. “What do you want to learn from me?” she asked.
Aiden knew he could lose her at any moment. The money wouldn’t keep her around forever. So he decided to tell her the truth, because his pride didn’t matter at the moment. “I want to feel the music like you do. I want to express something when I play.”
She blinked several times, unsure of what to say. “How am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know how I do it myself.”
Apparently deciding that the best way to find out was to do it, she got in position and played. She picked one of Vivaldi’s works. The song was played allegro, with a hasty rhythm and abrupt changes, and he only focused on her. With her eyes closed like this, he could leisurely admire her without risking another scolding. Her face changed with the song, and it was enthralling to watch. When it would get darker and deeper, she would frown. When the pitch became higher and lighter, she relaxed and almost smiled.
Halfway into the piece, she paused and reflected for a few seconds. “You have to imagine that you are telling a story,” she declared. “I have always seen this one as cursed lovers that fate constantly separates. But they always find their way back to each other.”
Aiden tried to understand how it would work, unsure how a song could tell a story. Surely, the composer had one in mind when he came up with it, but how was Aiden supposed to figure it out? His silence seemed to worry her because she felt the urge to justify herself. “Was that a stupid thing to say? I’m sorry. This is how I do it. This movement, for instance,” she stopped and played a few notes of what he recognized was from Vivaldi too. “I have always seen this song like an afternoon near the river with my sisters. It is light and playful. When I play, I can absolutely see my siblings splashing each other and laughing.”
She stopped, unsure of what to say next. “I think it depends on everyone’s sensibility. What works for me might not work for you. You have to find your own way into those songs and what they mean to you.” She paused again. “What is your favorite piece to play?”
Aiden had to think for a moment. When he finally decided, he played some of it. She listened with attention. “I don’t know this particular piece, but it seems quite jolly. That part,” she said before replaying a short bit of the piece, “that part exudes happiness. Think of a moment you cherish when you play it.”
Amazed that she would so easily be able to replay a melody she’d just heard, Aiden remained silent, staring at her with astonishment. Just how much of a musical prodigy was she, exactly?
For a while longer, she explained her process the best she could, and he tried applying it. After a few unfruitful attempts, he gave up and rang the bell. A footman arrived rapidly, and Aiden asked for a tray of refreshments. When he resumed, he tried again to play as she asked. He could do it at first, but quickly, his perfectionism took control.
Arguing that they needed a break, he sat down and invited her to join him. The young beauty was a subject that interested him more than music at the moment, so he asked her about her family. She had two older brothers and three younger sisters. She had started playing the violin when she was around seven. And her favorite composer was, unsurprisingly, Vivaldi.
To each question he asked, she asked one in return, and he happily answered them. He had three younger sisters and started when he was around five years old. She also asked him his age, and seemed pleased when he told her he was twenty-five.
Finally, a trolley of delicacies arrived, along with some refreshments. Her eyes widened with awe when she saw its content. While he was relatively unimpressed by it, being used to such treats, her reaction gave him a new perception of it. He looked at the tray with a fresh eye, noticing there was tea, a carrot cake, several types of biscuits, honey candies… She was still making her inventory of the things before her when Aiden dismissed the footman to take care of the service himself. They ate and talked about their shared passion for music, their favorite pieces, what other instruments interested them… She also played the guitar, and Aiden favored the piano.
When the clock rang five, she decided she had to go, or her family would worry.
As agreed, he arranged for a carriage to take her back. Reluctant to let her go, he walked her out of the manor. Oddly enough, he quite enjoyed how unusual she was compared to the women who usually surrounded him. She climbed in the luxurious carriage, ignoring the helpful hand he was offering, and settled comfortably on the cushioned seats, her violin resting on her lap. With a small, polite nod, she wished him a good evening before he closed the door. Standing by the main door, he watched the carriage roll away until it disappeared at the first turn.
On his way back inside, he wondered what kind of surprise this summer had in store for him. Suddenly, the idea of staying alone in the country for two months wasn’t so bothersome anymore. Not with the mystery that was Amalia Romero to occupy him every single day.
Somehow, he doubted that two months would be enough to get to know her. Especially not given how reserved and cautious she was around him. But maybe with more time and money, she’d open up to him, and he’d get to explore her complex psyche.
Aiden’s technical piece is Chaconne, from Partita No. 2 in D minor, by the incomparable Johann Sebastian Bach .
【04】Easy Like Breathing
Violin Concerto in E Major, D. 50: I. Allegro, by
Giuseppe Tartini
The following day, Amalia left her camp feeling almost cheerful. She was delighted to return to the manor. She had spent a great time there the day before, and she couldn’t wait to enjoy the beautiful estate again.
For as long as she could remember, she had never eaten so many sweets in one sitting. Not even the day her brothers had stolen a crate full of goods from a baker. She hoped that today they would have another trolley of tea, cakes, biscuits, and various pastries. It was a great bonus to her already incredible situation.
The earl was turning out to be a nice surprise, too. And while he didn’t seem to be the murderous type, she’d taken her knife with her again, just in case. She wasn’t entirely sure what to think of him yet. He was handsome, rich, and powerful, and he had that arrogant assurance that came with all of it. He seemed to want to treat her as an equal, but she knew she had to remain careful. There was no way to know for how long he’d find her entertaining, and everything could change with a snap of his fingers.
Before that, she’d make sure to earn as much money as she could.
Just as she was coming out of the small path in the woods, arriving at the main road, she saw the earl’s carriage, waiting at the exact spot they’d left her yesterday. Confused, she frowned, staring at the armories painted on the door. She had thought they would only take care of her after the lessons, not also pick her up before.
Dismissing her disarray, she walked faster to the ridiculously extravagant vehicle and slipped into the passenger seat. The coach driver clicked his tongue, and the carriage rolled away. Once again, she looked around at the luxurious inside, admiring the details and the ornaments. The opulence brought her mind back to the grandeur of the manor, and her thoughts then drifted to the earl.
It was still uncertain how she could help him get better at the violin. She wasn’t quite sure how she was doing it herself, so putting it into words and passing it onto him was a complicated task. In all honesty, she was still confident he was better than her at this.
All the way to the manor, she tried to come up with the best approach, struggling to sort her thoughts into a logical process. When they passed the massive gate of the estate, she straightened up, nervous.
As soon as she stepped out of the coach, she immediately spotted the earl, waiting for her by the main entrance. Gripping her violin’s case firmly, she went to him, forcing herself to appear relaxed. She wasn’t sure if he was the reason she felt so tense or if the splendor surrounding her was too much, reminding her she was nothing compared to him.
“Good afternoon,” the earl greeted her, as dashing and welcoming as the day before. She plastered a smile on her face and bowed her head slightly to greet him back.
He invited her inside, and she was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with the butler this time. Side by side, they walked to the music parlor. Once more, Amalia couldn’t help but marvel at her surroundings, her curiosity eating her from the inside each time they passed by a door. By the time they reached their destination, she was filled with questions. What was behind it? What was this room for? And who needed so many rooms, anyway? Maybe one day, she’d get the chance to visit the whole place and get her answers.
The moment they entered, Amalia went to put her case down and took out her violin to get prepared for the lesson. When she moved to the middle, ready to start, the earl glanced at her with amusement before shaking his head and going to fetch his instrument.
“What shall today’s lesson be?” he asked, approaching her with his fine instrument.
“I was thinking we could work on breathing?” she suggested. The entire evening before, she’d trained, focused on everything that happened when she played. She had noticed that unconsciously, she followed the rhythm and changes of the music with her breath. Her lungs filled and emptied with the melody, not only helping with the motion of her arm but also bringing her closer to the piece, giving it a life of its own.
“I have been doing it successfully for over twenty-five years now. I think I’m good with that one,” the earl joked with a mischievous smile.
She tried to ignore the way she felt at the sight of his charming grin but failed. She managed to hide it and shook her head. “I mean, we will focus on breathing in sync with the music.” He seemed somehow hesitant, doubting this would actually work. “It should help you get closer to the melody and will make you live with it.”
This was all pure conjecture. She had no idea if it could work or how any of it worked. But from the very start, she’d warned him she wasn’t a teacher. It was his fault for hiring her when she’d specifically explained that she wouldn’t know how to help him.
Still dubious, the earl eventually agreed to her strange exercise, and she gave him some instructions. During the next two hours, she watched him play, carefully observing his posture, correcting him when his mind slipped away from the exercise. Sometimes she would take her own instrument and play for a while, to demonstrate what she expected from him.
He could do it for a moment, and then his rigidness kicked in and he would forget about loosening up and following the music. Amalia wasn’t a particularly patient person, and his repeated failure to comply soon began to irritate her. At some point, she put down her instrument and moved to him, ignoring his confusion as she approached.
“You are too stiff. You need to stop thinking so much about what comes next and live in the moment,” she explained as she reached him.
“Trust me, I usually very much live in the moment, but somehow, when it comes to music – things are different. I can be carefree with just about anything, but it’s impossible with violins. I think it’s because of how severe my first instructor was. He used to put the fear of God in me.”
“Still, you have to detach yourself from this if you want to play like me,” she insisted, not feeling sorry for him. If they had to compare terrible childhoods, she was pretty sure she would win this one. Standing behind him – and without thinking – she wrapped her arms around his chest. “Keep playing, and when I tighten my hold, exhale. When I give you room, inhale.”
He remained unmoving, his arms mid-air. “Start playing,” she insisted.
After a short moment of hesitation, he complied and resumed his position. Amalia focused on the piece he’d chosen, tightening around him and releasing.
Without even realizing it, her mind drifted, and she forgot about what she had to do. He smelled good, but not because of perfume or cologne. He smelled clean, and she perceived the neutral scent of his soap and the lavender fragrance of his clothes. There was also something that was purely him – a manly, earthy odor. Plastered against him as she was, she could feel the rigidness of his muscles under the many layers of their clothes. Her entire front seemed to warm up, absorbing his heat.
She was suddenly feeling light-headed; the proximity encasing her in some strange cloudy trance. She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on the odd situation, before opening them quickly when he cleared his throat and stopped playing.
“Alright, love. I’m getting stiff in a place I wasn’t, so I think we should call it a day,” he declared.
Amalia let go of him instantly, only seeing now how inappropriate it was to act like this. Mortified, she scolded herself internally for her foolish action. She was rather tactile, never passing an occasion to hug a friend or someone from her family, but she should have noticed how different this case was. From what she knew of the British elite, people were very formal and distant, to the point that they avoided touching each other’s skin. What of a bohemian embracing an earl as she had done? What level of offense was that?
She looked up at him and was relieved to see amusement instead of dread in his eyes. Slowly, his words echoed in her mind, and she eventually understood what he’d said. I’m getting stiff in a place I wasn’t…
Her jaw dropped with consternation, and she did her best not to look down at his crotch to confirm her supposition. She may have been innocent in many ways, but she had learned a thing or two about male anatomy in the course of her life. At least enough to know what he meant.
“You— You—” she stuttered, appalled.
“Oh, calm down, you were the one all pressed up against me.”
Vexed, Amalia released an exasperated breath, not sure what to say. Yes, she had acted recklessly, but she hadn’t meant it like that at all. Angry at herself as much as she was at him, she went to get her discarded violin and bow, and then shoved them in their old case.
“Are you seriously leaving?” the earl asked, baffled.
“Yes. I told you I wouldn’t be here for this, so you can’t talk to me about your… parts,” she hesitated, her hand waving in the general direction of the front of his trousers.
“Alright, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he atoned, seeming genuine. “I swear I won’t refer to my parts anymore.”
She looked at him, wondering if she could trust him. For some reason, women like her were considered loose and easy. But she had never met a woman more feisty than a bohemian. If the earl could get into his skull that she wasn’t some low-hanging fruit waiting to be taken, she would consider staying.
“I have a fiancé, you know,” she lied with boldness.
The earl’s face darkened at the revelation, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t know that, no.”
“Well, I do. He is very tall, and strong. And he cares about me a lot,” she improvised. When she saw the dubious look on his face, his eyebrow cocked up, she worried she might have gone too far.
“Just to be very clear about one thing, Amalia. I have never, and will never, force myself on a woman,” he explained coldly. “You can go ahead and invent yourself a fiancé you don’t have if you want, but don’t do it because you’re scared that I might take advantage of you.”
Positively tongue-tied, Amalia stayed unmoving. Somehow, she’d offended him. She’d hurt him in his pride by assuming that he would force her into something she wasn’t willing to give. For an instant, she wondered if she should apologize. Getting on his bad side wasn’t an option because not only could he have her jailed, but it would also cut the lucrative income he was providing.
She opened her mouth to atone at the same moment someone knocked at the door. The earl ordered the newcomer to enter, and a footman opened the door before rolling in a trolley with tea and snacks.
Amalia salivated at the sight of the delicious-looking pastries and barely noticed when the earl dismissed the servant. Just like the day before, they settled down in the sitting area and had their tea and biscuits. The room was awfully silent, and it made her regret having invented a fiancé.
The appropriate moment to make amends didn’t come, and it was only when he accompanied her to the carriage that she mustered the courage to do it.
“I’m sorry. About the lie,” she declared as they were getting down the stairs. “I’m never alone with men, and I’m not sure how to proceed.“
“I’m always alone with women, but I’m afraid I’ll have to figure this one out too,” he answered with humor, letting her understand he wasn’t angry with her.
She bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage him with the allusions. She was used to inappropriate innuendos, since her brothers never missed an opportunity for those. But it felt somehow different when it came from the earl. As if it affected her in an entirely new way.
They reached the carriage, and he opened the door for her before offering her his hand to help her up.
“I will see you tomorrow, then. And we will practice… drinking water?” he tried with humor.
This time, Amalia didn’t resist the urge to smile at his small jab. “You were the one foolish enough to pay me so handsomely for lessons,” she noted, not departing from her grin. “You shall endure whatever exercises I come up with.”
It was his turn to smile, and she noted he had impeccable white teeth that were perfectly aligned. It made him even more dashing, if such a thing were possible, which probably explained why her heart fluttered in her chest the way it did. “I’m positively anxious to see what you shall come up with next,” he answered, bowing his head gracefully.
Not taking his hand, Amalia climbed into the car, settling her violin next to her.
“I will try to think of something a little more substantial than breathing,” she promised. He chuckled low, closing the door before ordering the driver to go after one last glance at her.
On the way back, Amalia found herself grinning several times. Maybe for once in her life, luck was smiling at her, and nothing bad would come from this arrangement. The earl seemed to be a decent man, after all. And despite his teasing, she might grow to enjoy his company.
Admittedly, she had never met a man quite like him, but how different could he be from the others? She’d been fending off men for years now, and this one wouldn’t be any different. Regardless of how attractive he might be or how charming he was, she would maintain a safe and reasonable distance between them.
Since the chapter ends on a lighter note, I thought I’d propose this piece by Giuseppe Tartini: Violin Concerto in E Major, D. 50: I. Allegro.
【05】Highs and Lows
Les Indes Galantes / Act 9: 4.14 Danse des Sauvages, by Jean-Philippe Rameau
Aiden had learned his lesson, and during the following week, he made sure he didn’t offend her with more of his naughty remarks. The woman confused him beyond words. One second she was pressing herself against him, her soft shape and round breasts plastered on his back, and the moment after, she was horrified by a barely lewd insinuation.
Still, he wanted to make sure she’d stay. The whole summer was ahead of them, and he would take his time earning her trust. As if she were a wild deer she wanted to tame, he had to proceed with caution and patience. She was complex and strong-headed, and he couldn’t help but find her fascinating. She was an enigma, a mystery he wanted to solve. Never in his life had he met a woman like her, and he doubted he ever would again.
Adding to her unique character and feisty personality, it was clear to him she was a musical prodigy. Her ease with a violin was baffling. Even if he wasn’t certain about the efficiency of her lessons, he didn’t doubt that he could learn a lot from her.
When she arrived on the third afternoon, he was by the entrance again, waiting for her. A light rain had been drizzling all day. He watched her exit the carriage and run to the entrance, with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Milord,” she curtseyed with a smile.
“Amalia,” he greeted back, always enjoying how the foreign name flowed past his lips. He handed her the money right away, and she slipped it in her pocket.
In such a short amount of time, they already had a routine together. The silent walk all the way to the music parlor was part of it. He could tell she was starting to feel more comfortable around the place. He watched with amusement as she looked at her surroundings with curiosity in her eyes. Aiden had grown jaded of all the luxuries that surrounded him, but he could understand how impressive it might seem to someone like her.
They reached the parlor, as per usual, she didn’t waste any time getting ready for the lesson. She was clearly taking her tutoring role to heart. He took out his Stradivarius, hiding his delight, and waited for her first instruction.
“I thought that since you are adamantly opposed to making mistakes, we could purposefully make them?” she proposed, her tone hesitant.
Aiden already knew that he wouldn’t enjoy this exercise. Certainly not as much as the one from the day before. Nevertheless, he decided to comply and put aside his pride.
It was pure torture for him to butcher the pieces he’d so fervently worked to master. But she was merciless. She made him work on this assignment until he wasn’t wincing with every false note. She actually seemed to enjoy his suffering, visibly entertained.
“You’re terrible at this,” she distractedly noted while browsing through a pile of scores she’d gotten from a cabinet.
“You mean I’m terrible at being terrible?”
She smiled, amused by the way he’d turned it around. “I guess you could say that,” she agreed, glancing at him with sparkly eyes.
“I will take it as a compliment, then.”
“You really shouldn’t. You’re failing.”
Aiden let out a chuckle, enjoying how unceremonious it all was. When she wasn’t on her guard, she was an absolute delight to talk to. She was very quick-witted, which never failed to disarm him. His pride could have taken offense more than once with her cutting remarks, but she always delivered them with humor following them with an irresistible smile.
In the pile of music sheets, she found a page that caught her attention. He observed her as her eyes glided over the staves, and he could see that in her focused mind, she was hearing the music. Enthralled, she completely forgot about him. Instead, she fetched her violin before sitting cross-legged on the floor, spreading the sheets around her.
Deciding that he deserved a break after all of his hard work, Aiden put his own instrument down and went to sit in an armchair that strategically faced the bohemian beauty. With a mix of curiosity and fascination, he watched as she learned the new piece right in front of him. Her initial attempt was barely disorganized and messy, which was impressive, given she was discovering it as she went. The second time was near perfect, and Aiden couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous. It seemed unfair that it would come so naturally to her when he required days of training to master a new score.
He didn’t remain sour for long, though, his eyes gliding over her delectable form. Her slim fingers danced over the neck of her worn-out violin with ease, her head gracefully bent to accommodate the instrument. He admired how lightly her arm weaved the bow over the strings, making it slide on them with impeccable precision. Sometimes she would get confused or lose her position on the sheets, so she’d furrow her eyebrows and bend over to read them better. She was obviously comfortable in this uncommon position, and he imagined she was used to practicing like this, sitting on the floor.
It was impossible to tell for how long he remained like this, listening to her. He was entranced by the spectacle while she paid him no mind at all, too busy discovering Rameau’s work. He made sure not to disturb her, enjoying this way more than having to force himself to play poorly.
When a footman knocked for the refreshments, she was suddenly pulled out of her musical rapture. Confused, she stood up while Aiden invited the servant in. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I hadn’t realized I was taking so long.”
“It’s fine. I was terrible at being terrible anyway,” he reassured her with a wink while the footman rolled the trolley in.
Just like the days before, her eyes sparkled with envy at the sight of everything that was displayed. Being around her was making him perceive how fortunate he’d been to be born in high society. Before, he’d never really thought about the condition of others. But seeing how a few sugar biscuits could bring her so much joy made him understand that his life could have turned out to be a lot worse.
They ate – or rather she did, Aiden being not so keen on sweets – and exchanged about the only thing they had in common –music.
“You told me you played the piano. Are you any good at it?” she asked, pointing at the grand piano to their side.
“I am. I was told that I was better at it than at violin, actually,” he bitterly recalled, remembering Schwarz’s words.
She blinked, visibly impressed. “Could you show me tomorrow?”
“Of course. If you’d like, we could organize a duet in the near future.”
“I would love that.”
“I have a few pieces that are suited for both instruments,” he explained before going to the discarded pile of scores she’d left. After shuffling through them for a moment, he pulled out a few sheets. “This one is one of my favorites.”
Aiden handed her the score and sat back while she studied them. After a moment, she looked up and met his eyes. “I will need a few days to learn this,” she explained.
He sure hoped she would. It had taken him three weeks to master the violin part and about two weeks for the piano. “We’ll get to it whenever you’re ready,” he offered.
With a satisfied nod, she agreed to his proposal before taking another piece of lemon cake. She ate and drank more tea, to the point where Aiden wondered where she was putting all of it. Her silhouette wasn’t exactly slender, but her waist was narrow, and her corset-free body allowed him to guess her flat stomach.
When she eventually reached her limit, she eyed what was left with regret. Hesitantly, she looked at him, biting her lip, holding back a question she seemed to be dying to ask.
“What is it?” he asked, encouraging her to speak.
“I was wondering if I could, maybe, take some of it with me? I know my sisters would love to sink their teeth into these.”
Aiden nodded, rendered silent by her request. Once more, he was confronted with the reality of her world.
With pure delight on her face, she took a handkerchief out of a pocket in her skirts and opened it on the table. She piled a few biscuits, candies, and slices of different cakes on it before folding the cloth over it and protecting her harvest the best she could.
Once she was done, she packed her violin and settled her improvised bundle in the case, as well as the scores he’d given her, before closing it. Aiden accompanied her to the door, and after bidding her a good evening, he watched her climb into the carriage. As usual, he kept his eye on the retreating car until it disappeared out of sight.
As he returned inside, the loneliness of the manor and the silence reigning in it made him understand why he very much disliked seeing her leave.
By the end of the first week, Amalia had made up her mind about the earl. He was, by all means, a charming man, and while he might have been a little too frivolous for her to feel entirely comfortable, she had to admit his humor was slowly growing on her.
She knew she could never be nor feel like his equal, but he was certainly doing everything he could to make her feel at ease. From the day she’d asked to take some pastries with her, he had made sure to have a package full of them prepared for her to take home every day. He also indulged when she would browse through his scores, and he never seemed to mind when she took a moment to work her way through one.
As the days passed, she relaxed around him even more, not feeling threatened or intimidated by him. Really, he didn’t pose any threat. Other than his ruggedly handsome looks, that is.
On more than one occasion, Amalia had found herself discreetly peering at him, unable to resist the temptation his gorgeous features presented. She could understand why women usually fell into his arms in an instant, as he was without a doubt one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid her eyes on. She’d found him dashing from the very first moment she’d seen him, but now that she’d had more time to glance at him, she was finding him to be flawless.
Sometimes, she would touch him for the sake of an exercise or to adjust his posture, and it never failed to send a strange series of shivers up her arm. Yes, the man was tempting, but if there ever was a man ill-suited for her, it was him.
So, with that in mind and because she didn’t need more adventures to complicate her life, she did her best to remain professional and distant. He cooperated every time she came up with some absurd assignment. Alas, she couldn’t think of something to teach him that would make sense, or something his other teachers wouldn’t already have worked on with him. He’d already been practicing for twenty years. There was nothing he hadn’t done a hundred times before.
As the days passed, it was becoming clear that the lessons were turning into an excuse for her to get away from more unpleasant chores and for him to cheat the boredom of the countryside. Today, he had dismissed the whole thing and had proposed to give her a tour of the manor. Trying not to look too excited, she’d accepted, thrilled that the curiosity that had been eating her from the inside would finally be satisfied.
He guided her from door to door and revealed to her the purpose of each room, allowing her a moment each time to gorge on the luscious decors. Everything was carefully considered, from the furniture to the art hanging on the walls. The curtains often matched the couches. The wallpaper was detailed and tasteful… She wasn’t certain how many tea parlors there were, but at least one for each day of the week. Some rooms had no proper function and were just named after their dominant tint. He showed her the ballroom, explaining it wasn’t as large as the one they had in their terrace in London. Thinking he was pulling her leg, Amalia gave him an incredulous glance, finding this one quite large already.
They eventually reached an immense library, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of all those books. The room had a higher ceiling than the others, and the massive shelves expanded over two stories. A walkway separated the two levels, and one could access it via a spiral stair or a door that had to be reached via the second floor. She loved the scent that lingered in the air. It smelled like leather, dust, and paper.
Amalia came closer to the shelves, and with her fingers, she gently brushed the spines of the books, enjoying the delicate reliefs embedded in the fine leather. In the middle of them, she noticed a book she knew and pulled it out of its place to take a look inside. She flipped through a few pages, enjoying the quality of the paper.
“This one is in French,” the earl told her over her shoulders. She jumped a little, startled by his proximity.
“Yes, I know.”
He squinted his eyes at her, dubious. “Sure, you knew,” he conceded, clearly not trusting her.
“Do you not believe that I can read?” she protested, offended.
The earl understood that he’d insulted her, and he frowned, unsure how to react. “I mean… I wasn’t sure that you could. And surely not that you would recognize French,” he admitted, deciding to be truthful.
She still didn’t think he believed her, and it made her blood heat up with anger. Feeling like she had something to prove, Amalia looked down at the pages. “ Apparemment, dit le vieillard, qu’il n’y en a ni deux, ni trois, ni quatre. Je vous avoue que les gens de votre monde font des questions bien singulières ,“ she read with the best French accent she could muster.
He looked at her with great surprise, now understanding she’d spoken the truth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and when he eventually found his tongue back, he passed a nervous hand through his hair.
“God Almighty… I knew French was a very appealing language, but it just became a lot more tempting,” he declared with a smirk.
She would have found his smile charming in other circumstances, but right now, it only added to her indignation. Her anger toward him was too great to take note of the compliment. With a loud snap, she closed the book before putting it back in its place. Sulking, she left the room and walked back to the music parlor, wanting to collect her things and leave.
“Amalia!” he called after her. She ignored him and kept marching until his firm grip wrapped around her arm. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out when she turned to face him. “I truly didn’t mean to offend you. It just didn’t occur to me that you could have received that sort of education.”
“I know your people have many assumptions regarding my people and our ‘education’, but maybe try to assume the best before imagining us all to be backward imbeciles,” she reprimanded, deeply humiliated. She was already constantly reminded that she was below him in so many ways. She didn’t need his preconceptions to add to it.
“I assure you I will from now on. Amalia, please, stay,” he insisted, his grip on her arm loosening.
Mesmerized, she stared into his incredibly blue eyes and could read the genuine remorse in them. He, who usually displayed so much assurance, was disoriented and desperate. It made her feel guilty for the way she’d just treated him. He hadn’t been entirely wrong in doubting her ability to read. Back at the camp, only a handful of them could, and she might be the only one, along with her father, able to read French.
Because of her pride, she’d overreacted, and instead of trying to understand his point of view, she’d lashed out. “It is all right,” she told him, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have reacted in that manner.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed the worst in the first place,” he maintained, willing to take the blame for it.
She couldn’t help but smile at how good at handling her he was. “Then we shall decide the offense was shared,” she proposed. The earl accepted with a nod, smiling back.
“Now, as a gesture of goodwill, would you like to spend more time in the library and maybe find a book to your liking?” he offered, all charming and confident again.
Amalia hadn’t read a new book in ages, and the thought of strolling through the extensive collection at the manor made her chest bubble with joy. Her enthusiasm must have been obvious because the earl grinned wide and moved to the side, inviting her to lead the way.
Biting back her grin, she walked back to the room, with the very patient earl following closely.
The song Amalia is learning while very (not) elegantly sitting on the floor is Les Indes Galantes / Act 9: 4.14 Danse des Sauvages, by Jean-Philippe Rameau
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【06】Sunny days
Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op.47 “Kreutzer Sonata”, by Ludwig van Beethoven
After her initial overreaction, Amalia decided to act more reasonably. She’d been so ridiculously vexed, she’d almost ruined this extraordinary situation. He was paying her a fortune to keep her around, and she shouldn’t care so much about the way he treated her.
The earl had the ability to reach her deeper than anyone else, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. His opinion and appreciation of her mattered to Amalia, and she wanted him to like her, to not see her like an uncultured commoner. It was absurd to care so much about what a blue-blooded womanizer thought of her, but she couldn’t help it.
In all truth, she appreciated him more with every passing day. Despite trying so hard to keep her distance, she was enjoying his company – seeking it, even. The earl was making her feel things she’d never experienced before. For the first time in her life, someone from the outside world was seeing her as more than just a bohemian. He was seeing her for who she really was, and he treated her like an equal when they couldn’t be further apart on the social ladder.
They had their duet, a small concerto only for them, and she played the violin while he was on the piano. She was used to playing with others since it wasn’t rare for her to spontaneously join a group of musicians back at camp. But this time was different. They shared some unbreakable connection as they played, tuning in to each other, bonding over the melody.
At some point, when he tried to turn a page of his music sheets, he somehow managed to make them all fall on the floor, scattering around him. Rather than interrupting the music to grab them, he kept playing, improvising whatever came next. However, he clearly didn’t remember the following notes. Amalia tried to follow him, but the result was terrible. Somehow, the session had ended with both of them bursting out laughing until tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Later that week, on a particularly sunny day, he decided they should enjoy the manor’s lush park. They took their instruments, and she grabbed a book she had found in his library. Together, they settled on the gazebo near the lake.
Absorbed by her novel, she laid down on the cushioned bench. She’d never heard of Robinson Crusoe before, but the earl had insisted that it was something she should try. He had been absolutely right. While she was reading, he was playing, learning a new score he had just received. It was from his friend and mentor, a German composer, and she was enjoying the melody greatly. His companion held remarkable talent, and she wished she could have spoken to him back then, when she’d first met Aiden.
At times, she would put down her book and listen to the perfect sounds he conjured with his instrument. Now and then, he had a doubt on how a particular part should be played, so he asked for her opinion. Every time, she’d settle her novel to the side, take her own violin, and try it with him until they found a satisfying result.
When she’d first arrived at the manor, she’d felt so out of place that she thought she could never feel comfortable here. But after over two weeks of coming every day, she had to admit she was feeling more and more like she belonged here. The servants were sweet with her, except for the butler with the ridiculously rigid posture who kept eyeing her as if she was a nuisance.
It worried her to see she was enjoying all of this a little too much. Having people taking care of things for her was a dangerous thing to experience. One afternoon, the cook, who’d heard how much Amalia enjoyed her treats, had come to ask what her favorite cake was. Amalia had hesitated for a while before settling on carrot cake. From that day forward, every tray that had been brought to them had a generous slice of carrot cake on it, just for her.
She was slowly getting used to all this luxury, and it would be terribly hard when it would all stop at the end of the summer. The end of their afternoons together. The end of them .
Forgetting about Robinson and Vendredi, she discreetly looked at the earl, appreciating the way he was, so serious and focused on his task. With his brow slightly frowned and the hard line of his clenched jaw, he was irresistible. She’d learned by now that he was remarkably smart, and in moments like this, with the way he was thinking so intently, his intelligence was even more evident.
If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she would miss the pastries and the comfort of the estate, but she would miss the earl more.
He was always kind and considerate, and she enjoyed their conversations and banter. Strangely, she also appreciated it when they were in disagreement over a topic. It was stimulating, and outside of these moments, she rarely had the occasion to debate philosophical, political, or musical topics.
Being here was turning her into a different woman, as though she were becoming her true self. Going back to her old life would be such a setback, playing for a few coins, picking pockets, and struggling to survive. If everything went well with the earl, she would have enough money to leave her people and start a new life elsewhere. She was enjoying her role as a tutor, so maybe she could teach the violin to people in the city.
Clearly, she would have a hard time having people trust her, given her bohemian origins, but she could easily pass as Italian, or Greek, or Spanish, and those people were respected a lot more by society. Yes, that was it. She would leave, move to a big city, and tutor children, using the substantial income this summer was bringing her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a footman walked into the gazebo, holding a large silver tray. Amalia sat up and glanced at its content with envy. With all of this every day, she was thickening slowly. Her dresses were a little more adjusted now, but she had decided to set her vanity aside and enjoy her blessings instead.
The servant left after setting their refreshments on a table, and she and the earl sat together. They talked about the book she was reading, ate, drank…
The familiar feeling of melancholy slowly gained on Amalia. Every day, she dreaded having to leave a little more. Her heart grew heavier as the minutes passed, and when the pompous butler came to tell them the carriage was ready for her, she held back a helpless sigh.
True to their daily ritual, the earl accompanied her to the car. And like every day, he offered his hand to help her climb in. It didn’t matter how many times she’d refused his assistance, he always offered it. So far, she’d never taken his hand because she didn’t actually need help climbing the two steps. But today, for some reason, she wanted to take it. She wanted to slip her fingers into his large palm, needing this last contact before they would be separated for hours until tomorrow afternoon.
So after a long look at his wide palm, his calloused fingers, and thick wrist, she slid her hand in his, savoring the shivers that didn’t fail to run through her body. He held her while she stepped into the carriage, and she noticed when his grasp lingered a little longer than necessary. When he eventually let go of her, she saw how he stretched his hand, and she wondered if the same shivers and sensations had been crawling under his skin.
As the carriage went on its way, she kept her hand on her lap, face up. Now and then, she glanced at it, trying to relive the moment. Even though it hadn’t been such an intimate gesture, she couldn’t help but like the way the simple contact had made her feel. Her skin was still tingling from it, and it was as though the warmth of his hand was still lingering in hers.
She loved the way he made her feel. Maybe a little too much, even.
Aiden was both in hell and in heaven.
Every single day, he craved Amalia’s presence, reveling in it when she finally arrived. But the entire time she was here, he dreaded the idea of having to watch her climb into the carriage, always feeling at his lowest every time she abandoned him to his solitude. Never in his whole life had he wanted someone so badly. And she, of all the people, was the one woman he couldn’t have.
Everything about her was extraordinary. With her, he felt like an adventurous explorer, discovering a new world, learning about its secrets and dangers. Already, he knew that he would never tire of her personality. In every possible way, she differed from the other women he knew.
She wouldn’t hesitate to race him to the manor and almost win. Sometimes, she pulled him into ludicrous challenges, like who could complete a partition the fastest – that one she won. Or who could fit the most biscuits in their mouth – which he’d won. It had been absolutely embarrassing to explain the situation to Appleton, who’d caught them with their mouths full of sugar biscuits when he’d come to announce the carriage was ready.
As the days went, it became evident that the lessons had become an excuse. It certainly was for him, and he longed to know if she felt the same way. At some point, he purposefully didn’t give her the money. The day after, he merely gave her two envelopes, pretending he’d forgotten. Flustered, she’d claimed to have noticed, and he needed to be more rigorous about it in the future. It was now clear to him she wasn’t only here for the money.
One afternoon, a little over three weeks after it all started, they were relaxing outside. They hadn’t even bothered to take their violins with them. Instead, they were enjoying the sun while arguing about Bach’s best work. That lasted until the gatekeeper’s dogs, having escaped from their pen, came running at them. The two gigantic Scottish Deerhounds looked dangerous but were in fact cowards who could easily be bribed with food and belly rubs.
At first, he feared the impressive beasts would terrify her, but she excitedly got up and petted them. Then she proceeded to playfully run around with the hounds. When they jumped on her, she fell over with a squeal, and he worriedly stood up to help her. Before he’d made two steps, she was already on her feet with a laugh. Unaffected, she kicked her shoes away and went running again. He watched her play with them for a while, enjoying how carefree she was, bewitched by her appealing silhouette. Eventually, the gatekeeper, who was mortified, came to fetch his dogs. Aiden was almost tempted to tell him to leave them be. Instead, he held his tongue and watched the man put leashes on the two hounds and take them away.
She was out of breath, disheveled, and her cheeks were red from the effort. He couldn’t help himself but think that she would look exactly like this after an hour in his bed. To know what she’d look like after two hours, he needed to get the dogs to come back. Or sweep her off her feet and take her to his room.
He tried very hard not to think of her that way. She wasn’t interested, and he wanted to respect that. But she was so remarkably attractive, it was impossible for him not to imagine what could be. She never wore any sort of corset, so it was effortless for him to picture what her body looked like underneath the simple dresses she wore.
Every time he said something flirty, she would shut off and spend the rest of the afternoon being distant. So he tried his best to avoid doing so. It was a task harder than he’d imagined flirting was like second nature to him.
Now, having slowly adapted, he kept his desires to himself and enjoyed the sight of her, her presence, her strong personality, without trying to charm her. He’d rather keep her company as a friend than lose her entirely because he’d tried to get into her knickers.
In all truth, he was obsessed with her. She was his last thought before he slept, and the first one upon waking up. Sometimes, he would end up with a glorious erection just looking at her. He was so smitten that it didn’t take much. She could be lying down with a book, playing her violin, or like now, running around with her bare feet, her skirts hiking up her legs.
He adjusted himself and crossed his legs to hide his embarrassing situation. This was what abstinence did to a man. This was why he usually made sure to maintain a healthy sex life, switching between partners to ensure he wouldn’t turn into a caveman ruled by his desires. Oblivious to his situation, Amalia grabbed her shoes on the grass and came to sit next to him.
“Those dogs are really fast,” she said, her heavy breathing still not recovered.
“They are hunting hounds, they ought to be,” he explained with a grin.
“I love dogs. We have a few around camp, but they are lazy thieves. Nothing like those two,” she told him with an annoyed pout.
She often referred to her camp, but he’d never been there. It was hard for him to imagine what it looked like, having never visited anywhere like it. “Do you think I could come back with you one day?” he asked her. “I would enjoy seeing where you live.”
She gave him a dubious glance. “I don’t think you would enjoy it. It’s nothing like here. It’s constantly noisy and filthy. When we first arrived there was grass, now there’s mostly dirt, and since it’s raining so much, it is muddy all the time.” She paused, glanced at his clothes, and added, “You most certainly couldn’t come wearing this. You would get mugged instantly, or my brothers would drag you into some card game and they would have all of your money – to the last penny you own. They cheat, you see. A lot. Also, they never pass on ripping off a gadjie .”
She very rarely used Romani words in front of him, but he loved it when she did. He didn’t know what it meant, but from context, he could easily guess.
“What if I came bearing gifts,” he suggested.
“What sort of gifts?” she asked, seemingly interested.
“I don’t know… Wine? Lots of it?” She thought about it for an entire minute, as if she was calculating every scenario.
“It could actually work. If you bring alcohol everybody might just like you. But are you sure that you really want to come? It isn’t a nice place, and you will feel like you don’t belong. At all.”
“You adjusted well,” he argued, gesturing to the manor and their surroundings. “Yes, I would like to see.”
“Fine. I was going to tell you I can’t come tomorrow. There is a wedding. If you want, it could be a good time for your visit. There will be a lot of agitation, and many people, even some from the village. So you might just blend in.” She looked pleased with herself. Did she want him to meet her people, after all? “You still have to find different clothes. Something that looks cheap and that doesn’t fit you perfectly. It shouldn’t look tailored. Also, maybe don’t shave.”
He could see she was now excited by the prospect of him coming because she was talking fast, her tone higher-pitched than usual.
“You could speak differently so they wouldn’t guess you are actually from around here. How’s your Russian accent? No, forget it. It would be impossible to last the entire evening without messing up. What should we choose for your name?”
“Aiden.”
“No,” she protested, “you cannot just keep your name. You would be unmasked instantly.”
“Only my family and my very close friends call me Aiden. For everybody else around here, I’m just Lord Graham.”
The revelation had her tongue-tied, while her cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink. She was probably remembering how he had initially asked her to call him by his name. “Very well, you shall keep your name then. You cannot be there for the actual wedding. Only our people are allowed. But by six, the celebrations should start. You could come then.”
They talked for a while about how they would pull it off, and her excitement never faded. Then the fateful moment of her departure arrived. As usual, he accompanied her to the carriage, and watched it disappear down the road with a heavy heart.
Now you are six chapters deep, I hope that it means that you are hooked!
A little music for you: the piece that Aiden and Amalia play, for their improvised concerto is the Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op.47 “Kreutzer Sonata”, by Ludwig van Beethoven .
【07】The camp
Son Tus Ojos Dos Estrellas, by Camarón De La Isla and Paco de Lucia
Nervous wasn’t even the word to describe Amalia’s chaotic state of mind. What had she done? She’d gotten excited by the idea of the earl visiting her camp, but now she was convinced that it was a terrible mistake. What if someone immediately guessed he was the lord of this land? Things could go very wrong in an instant. With deep, soothing breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Aiden was smart. He wouldn’t do anything to endanger himself.
The wedding had unfolded perfectly, and everyone was now back at the camp. The celebrations were about to start. Men were busy setting the chairs and tables, a few of them taking care of a massive fire, where various meats were being roasted. The women were in charge of the meal and dressing the tables.
Kids were running around, people were laughing, and a group was playing some music… The atmosphere was very festive. The camp was always a lively place, but tonight was something else. It was their first big event since setting up camp in this field, so everyone was enthusiastic at the prospect of a night well spent.
Amalia told herself it would all be fine one last time, before joining her mother and sisters. As she assisted them with the peeling of various vegetables, she couldn’t help but turn around every time she heard a new carriage approach. Her mother noticed and told her to settle down. After all, it was just another wedding.
At least, her assumption that there would be people from the village had been right. It was one of the rare occasions where they were tolerated inside the camp. Among the villagers’ aces, she recognized some of the shop owners, including the man who owned the pub, but still no sign of Lord Graham.
She was just reaching the end of her mountain of potatoes when she heard a small carriage approach. Upon seeing it still wasn’t him, she let out a sigh that could have been both from disappointment and relief. Honestly, she didn’t know what to hope for anymore. Her eyes lingered on the newcomer, somehow drawn to him. It was a peasant with a straw hat driving an old wooden carriage. The man had an excellent frame and broad shoulders, which prompted her to study his face more thoroughly.
When the man removed his old and damaged hat, revealing his blond hair underneath, she finally recognized him. At the sight of him, her heart raced in her chest, hammering against her ribs. She could barely recognize the earl. He was wearing a simple outfit; a beige coat, brown pants, a white shirt, and a pair of worn-out boots. The coat was clearly borrowed from someone with narrower shoulders and a larger stomach. His hat was old and damaged. It made him look like everybody else here – terribly ordinary.
Her relief was cut short when her father went toward him. Oh god… Please… let everything be all right , she prayed silently. Distractedly peeling another potato, she watched as they spoke for a moment. The earl finally descended from his carriage, leaving his hat on the seat, and then pulled back the cloth that was hiding what he transported. Amalia watched with amazement as her father slapped the earl’s back as if they were old friends. A relieved breath blew past her lips, which made her realize she had been holding it all this time.
Leaving the old carriage behind, her father guided him further into the camp, toward her and her sisters.
“ Chey !“ he hailed her. Understanding she’d been unluckily targeted for whatever would follow, she let go of her potato, which was awfully peeled, and rose from her chair. Using the apron she was wearing, she wiped her hands, gazing down at the muddy grass.
“I want you to meet my new friend, Aiden! He comes from Scotland, and he has some stolen goods that need to disappear before the sun rises again,” her father explained. Desperately trying to avoid the earl’s gaze, she nodded with her gaze down. “Amalia, I want you to take him around on a quick tour of the camp. Please make him feel like he is at home. The man deserves it after what he has brought us.”
She finally lifted her face and her eyes locked with the earl’s. “Mil— Sir, if you would follow me,” she proposed, ignoring the fluttering of her heart.
“Please, Amalia, call me Aiden,” the earl demanded with a Scottish accent, his charming smirk on. “I insist.”
Her breath caught in her throat. He had followed her initial instructions and taken an accent! Then, she realized what he had asked of her and glared at him. But she couldn’t make a scene, so she dismissed the reproach she wanted to give him.
“If you would follow me, Aiden ,” she complied.
For a brief second, his eyes darkened, and he looked very pleased with himself. Ignoring him, she turned around and introduced him to her family.
“These are my sisters. This is Blanca, Francine, and Brunhilde. That is my mother, Hilda, and you have met my father, Giorgio.” Done with the presentations, she didn’t waste time and walked away for their tour of the camp, hoping he’d follow her without causing a problem.
“Your names are very eclectic. Why is that?” he asked, appearing on her left.
“It’s a tradition of my camp. Our names are picked among the local ones. It’s some sort of memento, so we wouldn’t forget our origins.”
“It is an interesting custom. Is it common among the Romani people?”
“I don’t think so. We have never come across another camp that named their children like that. Why are you named Aiden? It isn’t a common name.”
“My mother is Irish. She wanted to give a Celtic name to her firstborn. Also a memento, I guess. So where does ‘Amalia’ come from then?” he asked. He was clearly not done with her yet.
“I was born in Spain, so was Blanca. Francine was born in France, and Brunhilde and my mother were both born in Bavaria. My father’s name is from Tuscany.”
“You have been to all these places?” he wondered, quite impressed. She nodded. “Do you speak all those languages then?”
“No,” she answered, somehow annoyed by all his questions. “I never learned Italian. However, I fluently speak French, Spanish, Bavarian, I understand Portuguese, but I cannot form proper sentences without making at least one mistake.” He seemed amazed by the revelation. For once, she felt like the superior being. “I also speak English and Romani, of course.” Now she was bragging a bit.
For the first time since he had arrived, she looked at him. Really looked at him. He hadn’t shaved, as she’d suggested, and his ruffled looks made him even more attractive – if such a thing was even possible when it came to this man. It was still hard to believe she had invited him. Keeping her distance from him was hard enough as it was. Every afternoon, she had to fight what his charming manners and handsome face did to her. Why would she force more temptation on herself? One day, she might just give up and let him have his wicked ways with her. She was fairly certain she would enjoy it – a lot.
They arrived in front of the fire where two lambs had been roasting for over three hours now. The task of making sure the fire didn’t die or overgrow had been given to her brothers and their inseparable friend.
“Those are Paul and Sebastian, my brothers. This is Rodrigo, their best friend,” she told the earl. “ Phals , this is Aiden. He is from Scotland, and he brought alcohol that needs to disappear before the redcoats find it.“
Paul, the eldest, wiped his hand with a cloth and extended it to the supposed smuggler. “What kind of alcohol?”
The earl shook his hand with a firm grip. “One large barrel of French wine and a small one of the best whisky Scotland can brew,” he answered, not intimidated at all.
Amalia’s brothers weren’t as tall as the earl, but they were more robust and so was Rodrigo. Their physiques had intimidated several potential suitors. Not that she actually needed help with fending men off. Her acerbic tongue and strong-mindedness usually did the trick.
As expected, all three men made their approval very clear. For the first time, she thought the earl might do just fine tonight. Pretending there were some chores to tend to, she left them. She had almost reached her sisters when a flock of children swarmed her way, stopping her in her tracks.
“Ama! Ama!” There were about a dozen of them chanting her nickname. “Ama, please, a story!”
“Now?” she protested with a grimace. “There’s no time. I have too many things to do.”
“But please!” begged a little girl. “A short one!” Amalia considered refusing again, but all those big eyes were staring at her with so much hope in them, it seemed she would break their small hearts if she said no.
“Alright,” she surrendered. “Go sit on the benches, I’ll go get my violin.” The kids erupted in victorious cheers and went running to the benches that had been set near the fire.
With a hurried pace, she went to the caravan she shared with her sisters and grabbed the case. When she arrived at the fire, there were even more children, all sitting quietly, ready for her to tell them a story.
As she took her instrument out, she tried to think of what she would narrate for them. Just the day before, she had finished an amazing book – Hamlet. However, it was too complicated for them to enjoy. She quickly thought of ways to make it simpler, and when she felt ready, she started. As usual when she was doing that sort of thing, she alternated between the tale and musical interludes.
Her audience grew larger as the story progressed, but she managed to stay focused. Her captivated audience would whisper “Oohs” and “Aahs” at every new development. When the story finally ended, and the brave hero died an honorable death, everybody stayed perfectly still for a moment. Then, the kids suddenly started to chant and beg for another story. She was about to refuse when mothers came to fetch their offsprings. Now that she paid attention to her surroundings again, she realized the party was well-advanced. Her story had taken longer than she’d expected.
Wanting to rest her sore feet, she put her violin away and sat down. She’d been running around all day, and she deserved a break. To enjoy the sounds and voices around her, she closed her eyes. There was the crackling of the fire, the conversations, the activity, the music… Someone sat next to her, and a familiar smell of fresh soap and sandalwood came to her nostrils.
“It was a nice take on the Shakespearean classic,” said the earl’s deep voice. “Actually, I think I prefer your version. The original one is way too sophisticated.” Amalia smiled, letting out a small chuckle. “Who needs that many characters for a mere three-hour piece?” he continued. “If you ask me, that is lazy writing.” She couldn’t help but laugh this time. When she opened her eyes and turned to him, she found him staring at her with a strange look on his face, a cup in his hand.
“Where’s your accent?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow. He glanced around them, shrugging his shoulders. There wasn’t really anyone in hearing range; not with the overall noise.
“No one can hear us.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually enjoying the thrill of the risk, milord.”
“Aiden,” he corrected.
With a witty smile, she bent over him to whisper in his ear. “As long as no one can hear us, you’re back to ‘milord’.”
When she returned to her original position, there was something in his icy gaze that moved her. His eyes held a challenge she wasn’t sure she could win.
“Is it alcohol?” she asked, pointing at the cup.
“Yes. Do you want me to get you something?” he offered.
She grimaced, embarrassed. “Actually, I’m not allowed to drink alcohol anymore,” she confessed. Guessing the question in his eyes, she continued. “The last time I drank – which was also my first time – I may have freed the animals from their enclosure.” He looked at her with both amusement and shock, still waiting for her to elaborate. “I remember thinking it was unfair that we were having so much fun while they were trapped in there.”
When an irrepressible fit of laughter shook the earl, she was forced to stop. “It’s not funny!” she protested. “Two goats were never found!” His laugh got even worse, which only fueled her embarrassment. With her arms crossed in front of her, she waited for him to calm down.
“Amalia Romero,” he said once he was able to talk again, “you are the most unique person I have ever met.” She wasn’t sure it was meant as a compliment, but she took it as so. “You can drink from my glass if you want. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
She gladly accepted and took the cup he was offering. There were about three gulps left, and she drank it bottoms up. Only too late did she notice his dismayed expression. As soon as she was done, her throat burned with intensity, and a violent series of coughs shook her.
“That wasn’t wine,” she lamented with a croaky voice.
“No, that was whisky, you lunatic.” Once more, he seemed very amused. “I believe that was your dose for the evening. I wouldn’t risk the safety of the cattle.” He laughed to sweeten his teasing. “Come, it is time to eat.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. Remembering he wasn’t a Scottish smuggler but an earl, even a duke in the future, she freed her hand but kept following him. When he spotted someone he knew, he stopped for a quick talk. “Mrs. Romero, I have to say, your daughter is a delight!”
“Is she now?” the woman wondered, amused.
“Aiden, this is my aunt, Ingrid,” Amalia interfered. “She is my mother’s twin.”
“Oh, well… In that case, I have to tell you that your niece is delightful.”
“It was about time someone other than her relatives noticed,” Ingrid declared, very entertained by the situation.
Ignoring the remark, Amalia went for the extensive buffet standing a few yards away. She took a plate and filled it with whatever food appealed to her stomach. Aiden, who had stayed to talk with her aunt, arrived when she was almost done. He filled his plate to the maximum of its capacity and followed her to a couple of empty chairs.
Silently looking at the crowd, they ate the content of their plates. Three men had taken out their guitars and were playing some rousing tunes. Around them, people were tapping their feet and hands, dancing, having fun… It was a lively scene that never failed to warm her heart. The whisky had gotten to her head, too, so she definitely felt more relaxed.
Behind her, Amalia recognized the irritated scolding of her mother. When she twisted around, she saw her sisters were causing some trouble. She excused herself, putting her plate down, and went to see what it was about, leaving Aiden alone. When she reached the source of the problem, she found her two youngest sisters were vehemently defending themselves from something, but their mother wouldn’t budge.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“It’s Mom! She won’t let us do the Draba!” Brunhilde complained.
The Draba was a tradition that took place during weddings at their camp. Every eligible maiden was invited to choose a bachelor and dance for him in order to put a spell on him, to charm him, and conquer his heart. It was absolute rubbish, but it was tradition. It also wasn’t appropriate for young girls to take part in such activities.
“And she is right!” Amalia declared, taking her mother’s defense. “You are barely fourteen. You’ll have plenty of time to find a husband, Bruny!”
“You couldn’t understand!” her sister argued with annoyance. “You never do the Draba because you don’t care if you never get married!” Thinking she had found a way to win this argument, her sister gave her a haughty look. “If you do it, I swear, I won’t insist any longer.”
Really, the girl’s attempt should have worked. Amalia really hated that stupid dance. However, her sister’s comment on never getting married actually stung more than it should have. And for the sake of her siblings’ reputation, she was willing to do a lot more than ridicule herself by dancing for a potential husband. Also, the whisky was lowering the defenses she so avidly kept up.
“Very well,” she agreed. “I will do it.” Her sisters’ jaws fell open. Even their mother seemed shocked. “What? I’m not a harpy like you all believe. Not all the time, at least…”
When she got back to the heart of the party, they were making room for the Draba. The newlyweds announced it was about to start. All the women in search of a husband had to regroup in the center, behind the chairs that were set for the dance.
Unenthusiastically, Amalia joined the rest of them and scanned the crowd. She would try to pick the least menacing man possible. There was no way she’d actually end up having to marry someone. Rodrigo could be a good choice. He was like a brother. They had grown up together. Armand might be a better partner, though. It was rumored that he preferred the company of men.
She was still trying to decide when she realized that most of the girls dancing were giggling to themselves, their eyes locked on one man in particular. She followed their gaze, only to see they were interested in Aiden, who was sitting next to her father. Just as she looked at him, he turned to her, some strange expression on his flawless face. Who wouldn’t be charmed by that man? Of all the members of the stronger sex here, he was the most impressive one. Tall, handsome, vigorous, well-mannered…
A sudden wave of heat ran through her. The thought of one of those airheads dancing for him was too much for her. It was ridiculous for her to be jealous, but there it was. Possessiveness. From where she stood, she was the closest to him. When the Draba would begin, she could easily be the first to reach him.
Dancing for the earl didn’t seem reasonable. It would be a mistake, and she knew it deep down. She should go for Rodrigo and let one of the other women pick Lord Graham. It wouldn’t compromise her in any way, and she would still be able to face him for their afternoons after all this. Yes, it was the best alternative. All she had to do was clench her teeth and do her best to ignore whatever would happen between him and his dancer.
She didn’t actually have a choice in this matter, and for once, she would listen to reason. Her mind had settled on Rodrigo when the newly married couple broke a plate, announcing the beginning of the dance.
Before she could even think about what she was doing, her feet carried her to the man she wanted. The dashing prince who constantly occupied her mind. The very man she’d decided would be a terrible choice for this.
So, as you can imagine, we are far from the classical, 18th-century vibe here, and in the camp, the ambiance is more guitars and voices. If you want to get a good idea of what I envisioned, go listen to Son Tus Ojos Dos Estrellas, by Camarón De La Isla and Paco de Lucia .
【08】Casting Spells
Mis Recuerdosal Barrio Santiago, by Ezequiel Benitez
Aiden was having much more fun than he had expected. Not only was he spending time with Amalia, but he also enjoyed the music, the food, and had made new friends. As he’d suspected, discovering Amalia’s world was fascinating – it couldn’t be more different from his. Her life was much harsher than he’d first believed. But nothing in her tenacity, pride, or attitude could have betrayed such a background.
For starters, he still had a hard time believing these caravans that surrounded them were these people’s homes. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to make do with so little. He hadn’t seen the inside of one, but aside from a few beds and belongings, there couldn’t be much in there. And when they weren’t in their tiny wooden rooms, they were out here, on this muddy ground, surrounded by the smell of the few animals they owned.
The food was good, but it was far from what he was used to. His meals had been catered by talented cooks his whole life; and they worked with the finest ingredients one could acquire. But it didn’t stop everyone here, him included, from enjoying it and eating with appetite.
But being here, surrounded by the joyful people of Amalia’s camp, Aiden realized that leading a happy life didn’t depend on the values he’d believed in. They displayed more exhilaration than his peers while living in homes as small as his closet, and eating cheap meats and overcooked potatoes. He was having an unbelievable time himself, and couldn’t recall the last time he’d enjoyed a party this much.
Although, as soon as Amalia had left him, his excitement had toned down slightly. But quickly after, her father came to sit in her discarded chair. Aiden spoke with the man at length about the party being a success, the music being good, the well-filled glasses…
Several people from the camp came to the man to ask him how to do this thing, or where to put something, so Aiden understood that Amalia’s father was someone important here. He seemed to run things in the camp. Just like his sons, he was an imposing man with a solid frame. It was clear to him that Amalia may have gotten her fearless character from him, while her physique came from her mother.
After a moment had passed, Aiden noticed that something was happening when the music stopped. Everybody moved away from the dancing area, and a few men settled a line of chairs in the freed space.
“What’s happening?” he asked Giorgio.
“Ah, gadjie, what you are about to witness is the Draba,” the man explained. “You see, for a marriage to last long, a wedding has to trigger another wedding. The girls in need of a husband invite a man, and they dance for him, hoping they will win him over.” Aiden found the idea intriguing. This would be another glimpse into Amalia’s culture, which he would undoubtedly enjoy watching.
Or so he thought.
A few young women converged toward the chairs, and right there with them, he spotted Amalia. What was she doing there? Was she looking for a husband? Would she dance for the man right here to win his affection?
Mixed feelings ran through Aiden. Anger, jealousy, confusion…
Ever since she’d lied about having a fiancé, and given her general attitude, he’d assumed she wasn’t interested in such things. Her intense need for independence had led him to believe it. And she didn’t have to preoccupy herself with such matters. Not yet, at least. She was young enough and still had a few years before her until it would be too late.
But apparently, he’d been wrong because she was right there, scanning the crowd to find a partner. Her eyes locked on someone, and when Aiden followed her gaze, he spotted Rodrigo, her brothers’ friend. The man was looking back at her, positively anxious for her to choose him. Back when she had presented him, Aiden had noted that the man seemed smitten with Amalia. She, on the other hand, hadn’t seemed to have any romantic affection for him. She’d treated him like one of her siblings.
However, if she decided to dance for him, Aiden wouldn’t stay here. It was over what he could bear. No, he wouldn’t watch the woman who obsessed him dance for another man.
He was about to get up to leave when she turned to him. He could see she was trying to figure out what to do, apparent uncertainty plastered on her delicate features. Me, choose me, he begged her with his eyes.
The seconds stretched, and he saw her hesitate, even from where he was seated.
Someone broke something, and the girls finally moved. Amalia didn’t miss a second and came straight for him, followed by several other girls. When she reached him, she took his hand without a word and forced him to get up. The other women sighed and searched for different partners.
Subjugated by the moment, he followed her, his hand still in hers. It felt like some blurred dream, his mind unable to think properly, his thoughts clouded by the elation running in his mind. She had picked him. Of all the men here, Amalia had chosen him for this superstitious tradition.
Without a word, she led him all the way to her chair. “Sit,” she ordered.
Utterly hypnotized by her beauty, he obeyed. His eyes never left her as she came to stand in front of him, waiting for the other women to be ready. In the chair right next to them, a girl had chosen Rodrigo, who gave him a hateful glare.
Only then did Aiden realize what was about to happen. This was a terrible idea. There were over a hundred people surrounding them. What had seemed like a dream a few seconds ago started to feel like a nightmare. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep a straight head.
“Amalia, maybe we shouldn’t—”
“It’s too late. If you leave now, I’ll be humiliated.” Swallowing this information, Aiden tried to focus on how he should act. “It is just a dance. Don’t worry about it.”
All the girls had found a partner, and everyone was in position. In front of him, Amalia was looking at him straight in the eye. Her dark irises were glassy and unfocused, which was uncommon for her since they were always so sharp and determined. Damn it, it was because of the alcohol. There was something else in there, something he didn’t dare to believe was true. But it was hard to deny it, because he’d seen this expression on many women before – just not her. She desired him. The proof of it was right there, in the heated way she was gazing at him.
Bloody hell , he needed to get out of this situation, now .
She grabbed a handful of her skirts, pulled them to her waist, exposing her leg up to her knee. The soft curve of her calf was enough to make him forget why he needed to stand up and leave. Damn it, this wasn’t good.
The musicians, who were waiting for a signal, finally began. Within the first few notes, Aiden muttered a curse. That song was made to seduce, with a languorous rhythm, suave tunes… He was already in hell, but when she undulated her hips sinuously, in rhythm with the music, he understood they were far from the worst of it. With her free hand, she undid the tie that was holding her hair and shook her head. Dark waves of her luscious curls fell around her shoulders, and Aiden couldn’t do anything but grip the sides of his chair harder.
This woman would be his doom.
Seconds later, he wasn’t thinking about the hundred people around them. All he could see was the heavenly creature dancing in front of him. The music became more intense, and so did her oscillations. He noticed she was wearing a trinket at her ankle, and he envied the delicate silver chain. The things he’d give to hug any part of her body in such a way…. She released her skirts, and still moving her hips, she clapped in rhythm with the music, her hands in the air, stomping her foot with the beat.
Her natural sensuality was too much for him to handle. Even though she was fully dressed, she aroused him more than any other woman who’d paraded before him naked. She was a goddess, a celestial being, sent to earth to torture him, to make him repent for his sins.
With a fluid roll of her hips, she turned around, giving him a tremendous view over her swinging—
Panic overwhelmed him when she backed up. He released a warning growl when she sat on his lap, her generous bottom now grinding on his thighs. She laid back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, the flowery scent of her lush hair filling his nostrils.
“Amalia, stop this,” he grunted.
She ignored him and switched her position so she was sitting across his thighs. When she turned to face him, the next protest he was about to utter died in his chest. Once more, the lusty intensity he could guess in her eyes sent his mind into a frenzy.
After three weeks of wondering and hoping, he finally had the unquestionable evidence that she desired him. It was possible she would have never acted that way had she not had a drink. But Aiden was certain she wasn’t inebriated to the point where it distorted her actions too much. It only loosened her discernment, and she was letting her desires express themselves. And he was what she desired – with what seemed to be a burning fervor.
When her amazing curves wriggled on his lap again, he focused back on reality. She battled with her skirts for a moment, and before he knew it, she was straddling him.
In a split second, he grabbed her hips to push her away, deciding it had gone too far. This needed to stop before someone felt obliged to intervene. But with a lascivious swing forward, she pressed on that part of his anatomy that demanded to have her. Instead of pushing her away, his hands kept her in place. He hated how weak he was when it came to her. His need for her was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. If it meant he could have her, even once, he’d gladly go to hell. He would swear off alcohol, money, women, anything… if it meant she would become his.
Even with the layers of their clothes, he could feel her heat between her legs, and it made him mad with desire. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it sent a numbing shiver all the way up his spine.
He hoped that the other girls were dancing with such passion so that they wouldn’t stand out and shock everybody. But he was incapable of looking away to check.
She was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman he would ever encounter. Her loose hair was framing her perfect face like a thick curtain of curls, as shiny and black as onyx. Her gaze, darker than the night surrounding them, was gliding over his face, observing him with what he guessed was want. Lower, her generous breasts were displayed right in front of him. And although her cleavage was more than reasonable, never had one tempted him so badly as hers. Of all her appealing features, her half-opened mouth and her lush lips were the most inviting, and his attention was captivated by them.
Pressing herself against his chest, she grabbed his face between her delicate hands. Their eyes locked again, and she looked down at his lips. He couldn’t help but look at hers, too. So full, so tempting… She moved forward slowly, as to kiss him, while she pulled him toward her with a gentle but firm grip.
Finally, this was happening. In seconds, he would experience the blissful heaven of her lips. After what seemed like an eternity of wondering, he’d know her taste.
When their lips were about to touch, she was violently pulled away from him.
Some part of Amalia knew she was acting recklessly. But that sensible voice seemed to come from far away, and she didn’t want to listen to it at the moment.
It was only when she’d taken the earl’s hand and pulled him out of his chair that she’d realized what she was doing. It was too late to change her mind now, so she ignored the surprised glance her father gave her. With a determined pace, she brought him to her chair and made him sit in it. As she waited for the music to start, she understood just how terrible this would be.
She’d seen many Drabas, and she tried to find comfort in the fact that it was a very common tradition around here; it honestly didn’t mean much. When the earl tried to protest, she dismissed it, knowing there was no backing down from this. The music finally started, and she let her body take over, swinging to the catchy melodies. She’d always loved this. It was freeing, and she enjoyed the way it made her feel. She danced as she’d seen so many other women do during those events, and she forgot about everything. Everything but the earl.
The way he was looking at her, with his intense gaze, his blue eyes devouring her with desire. She knew he wanted her; he’d made that abundantly clear many times over. But tonight, it wasn’t an issue. No, somehow, she wasn’t disconcerted by his desire for her. She reveled in it, even. Tonight, she let herself enjoy what it meant; she allowed the fantasy to live.
The music grew more intense and sensual, and so did her moves. Some sort of trance enveloped her because of the music and the dance, but mostly because of him. He was making her light and effervescent.
Not sure how, she ended up sitting on his lap, and she laid back into him, desirous to feel more of his strong body against hers. Ever since the disastrous breathing lesson, they hadn’t touched more than a hand or an accidental graze. Being like this against him, she wondered why she’d held back so fiercely. She relished in the delicious waves that spread through her body, making her skin tingle and her heart flutter.
This was the reason why she existed. To feel him, to know these sensations, to live this moment.
For some reason, everything that was happening to her seemed to concentrate low in her gut, at the apex of her legs. Ever since she’d met him, she had sometimes felt a tingling sensation in that secret part of her body; a nice warmth, a gentle pressure. Right now, it was different, though. It was more intense. It demanded to be taken care of.
Suddenly, she craved more, wanting to satisfy a need she couldn’t comprehend. She wanted to look at him, to see the desire in his eyes.
After a quick battle with her skirts, she managed to turn around and settled one leg on each side of him, gorging on the sight of his flushed face. Something pulsated between her legs, and she pressed herself on him, hoping it would mutter the need growing there. His cheekbones were a little red, his eyes glassy and his parted lips inviting.
Several times now, she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss someone. She’d never done it in the past, and she was clueless to its appeal. Ever since she’d met the earl, knowing the answer to her question had grown even more essential. Often, she found herself gazing at his mouth. She desperately wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him .
Because he was right there, and because her inhibitions had apparently disappeared, she decided it was a perfect moment to try. Boldly, she grabbed his face between her hands and moved forward, ready to satisfy her curiosity.
She’d almost reached him, feeling his warm breath on her lips, smelling the aroma of the whiskey he’d drank, when a firm hand grabbed her by the arm and harshly tugged her away from the earl.
Shock mixed with shame as she was suddenly reminded they weren’t alone.
Oh, God… What had she done?
Aiden was disoriented. One second he was about to finally taste Amalia’s lips, and the one after, everything tilted into madness, her soft frame being torn away from him.
Before he could grasp what was happening, a hard blow hit him in the jaw. All he could see was a white light for a split second, but he tried to ignore the pain, needing to understand what was happening.
Amalia’s brother, Sebastian, was holding her by the shoulders and yelling at her in Romani. Paul’s fist was the cause of the pain that was blooming on the side of Aiden’s face. Rodrigo had pushed his dancer away and was on Paul’s left, ready to get physical if needed. The musicians stopped, and a spontaneous silence fell around them.
“You should go, gadjie, before we decide one punch wasn’t enough,” Paul threatened.
Behind him, Amalia was trying to free herself from her brother’s grip. “Let me go!” she yelled. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m a woman. I will do as I please!” Infuriated, Sebastian slapped her so hard that she fell to the ground with a whimper.
Aiden’s blood boiled at the sight. With a savage roar, he jumped out of his chair and into Sebastian. Tackling the man, he pinned him down on the muddy grass. He had enough time to administer several punches with all of his strength, ignoring the searing pain in his knuckles before he was pulled away. Paul struck him in the stomach while Rodrigo and another man held his arms back. As much as he tried to release himself from their hold, he was helplessly stuck, at the mercy of their merciless retaliation. Sebastian got up and joined in on the thrashing.
In the hazy blur that followed, Aiden noticed Amalia had gotten up. She was yelling at his assailants, trying to defend him, coming between her brothers and him to stop them the best she could. They merely shoved her out of the way, throwing her back on the ground, and resumed their beating. He could see she was screaming commands at them, tears of anger and frustration veiling her eyes, but he could barely hear her, the ringing in his eardrums too intense. With each blow, he was losing more of his consciousness. By some twisted working of his mind, he was thrown back to the memory of his previous beating, the one that had led him to come here for the summer.
This would end the same way, with him left bleeding to near death on the ground. Or at least, he thought, until miraculously, it ended. When he gazed up, he understood that Amalia’s father had gotten them to release him. The men holding him shoved him to the ground, making him fall to his knees. Ignoring the ache in his entire torso, Aiden glanced at Giorgio’s imposing silhouette.
Out of pride, he hauled himself up to his feet, struggling to straighten himself. With a grimace, he wrapped an arm around his middle, trying to contain the pain radiating from it. His barely healed ribs were probably fractured again. When he stumbled, nearly falling back down, Amalia tried to come to help him. But her mother held her back, whispering something into her ear.
“You should go now, friend,” Giorgio declared. Aiden wasn’t sure why, but the disappointment in the man’s voice affected him. “You aren’t welcome here anymore. Leave before my sons decide to finish what they have started.”
While he knew he should obey, at least if he wanted to stay alive, the idea of leaving Amalia in this situation disturbed him greatly. He looked at her to make sure she was fine, and his heart broke at the turmoil plastered all over her familiar face. Her slapped cheek was getting redder, and tears were endlessly flowing down her face, gathering at her chin. She kept mouthing ‘I’m sorry’, her guilt distressing.
“It’s all right,” Aiden promised, his eyes still on hers. “I’m all right.”
When he looked at the others, he realized that staying here would only worsen her position. If they started wondering why she was so torn about a man she’d just met, they might realize there was more to it. With one last glance at her, he passed on all the apologies he couldn’t voice out loud. After a parting nod, he walked toward his carriage, his arm still draped across his chest. Painfully, he climbed inside, grabbed the reins, and took off.
A bit of music, to get the ambiance: what Amalia dances to is early Flamenco, and if you want to kinda get the vibe, listen to Mis Recuerdosal Barrio Santiago, by Ezequiel Benitez ! I don’t really know what flamenco sounded like back then, but that’s kind of what I had in mind when I wrote the scene.
【09】Apologies
Adagio for violin and orchestra in E Major, K.261, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
An entire week went by with no news of her. Over and over, the same questions kept plaguing Aiden’s mind. Was she all right? Had they hit her again? Why wasn’t she coming?
His bruises were slowly healing, his bones luckily unharmed by the ordeal. His pride, however, still hasn’t recovered. The fight hadn’t been fair at all, and he wished he could have gotten a few more punches into Sebastian’s face. How could he hit her like that? What kind of weak man would harm a woman?
Amalia’s devastated state wouldn’t leave his mind. Never again did he want to see her so distraught, so scared. Her cheeks wet with tears, her screams, the pain plastered on her face, the reddening bruise on it…
Damn it! Couldn’t he just have stayed away from her family? If he’d listened to her earlier warning, none of this would have happened. They would both be unharmed, and the heartbreaking image of her wouldn’t haunt him.
Ever since that awful evening, he’d spent his days in his chambers, drinking anything he could find, beating himself up over what happened. Alcohol was the only thing keeping him from turning mad and going to the camp to see her, himself. The fact that he couldn’t do anything to help her was infuriating. They were her family, and they had every right to control her. It angered him to be this useless. The only way she would ever be free from them would be for her to find a husband.
The thought of her marrying was disturbing to him. There would never be a man good enough for her. One who wouldn’t try to change her but had enough character to stand up to her when she was being irrational. Someone who would appreciate her whimsical thoughts and bursts of excitement, and who would soothe her down when she was upset or angry. Only a man who saw how she was too perfect to ever be changed would be worthy of marrying Amalia Romero.
That man, if he existed, would be the luckiest one in Great Britain.
Aiden was pouring himself another drink, morose, when someone knocked at his doors. The servants had been instructed not to disturb him, so he knew it was important. “What!”
“Milord,” his valet hesitantly called from outside, “you have a visitor. She is waiting in the blue parlor.”
Amalia…
Putting his glass down, Aiden jumped on his feet and went to the door, opening it abruptly. “Is it her ?”
“Yes, milord,” the valet confirmed. “Miss Romero is waiting for you downstairs.”
Aiden was about to go to her when he had the wise idea to look down at his attire. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed today. He was still wearing the pants he’d put on after getting out of the bed, and had slipped on a velvety robe that hung loosely on his shoulders.
“I need to change first. Tell her I will be down in a moment.”
The valet nodded, and after a short hesitation, he bent over slightly. “And maybe a quick wash, too, milord,” he tactfully explained, touching the side of his nose subtly.
“Yes, right. Thank you, Lambert.”
Aiden nodded, slammed the door, and hurriedly went into his closet. He grabbed a few clothes and headed to his washstand. The cold water on his face felt good, shaking him out of his inebriated state. With rapid gestures, he rinsed his neck and disciplined his hair, flattening them backward. After a sparse use of the washcloth, he dressed in an instant and, after checking his reflection in the mirror, bolted outside.
He was almost out of breath when he arrived at the blue parlor. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, shook his head, and opened the door. He spotted her instantly, relief flooding through him at the sight of her familiar shape. She was standing by the window, watching the rain pour outside.
From afar, he observed her, overjoyed to finally see her again. She was oblivious to his presence, and he admired her elegant silhouette, followed the curve of her slender neck, and appreciated the features he could see of her cherished face. God, how he’d missed her.
Quickly, what he could see wasn’t enough, and he craved for more. “Amalia…” he called, his voice rougher than he expected. She turned around, slightly startled, and gave him a contrite smile.
His eyebrows furrowed when he spotted something unfamiliar. Hastily, he went to her, grabbed her chin between his thumb and index, and angled her face toward the light. She allowed him but looked down, avoiding his gaze. Under her left eye, he could see what remained of a black eye. This wasn’t the side of her face that Sebastian had hit. The mark came from a different blow; one she must have received after he’d left.
“What have they done to you?” he grunted, barely masking his anger.
“Nothing they haven’t done before,” she explained, pulling away from his touch. “I’m all right. It isn’t like I didn’t deserve it.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her that nothing she’d done justified her brother’s actions, but he was rendered speechless when he understood she was used to their brutality. Knowing that she had been hit in the past didn’t help calm him.
With her arms crossed over her chest, she moved away from him, distressed and pensive.
“Amalia, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come to your camp. I shouldn’t have insisted when you—”
“No, stop,” she interrupted. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It was me. I was a disaster. You were perfect, milord.” She made a point to look him in the eye, to make him understand how sincere she was.
Remembering she’d called him ‘Aiden’ for the span of a night, only to be back to the formal rigidity of ‘milord’ pained him.
He was about to move to her when she spoke again. “I’m never touching alcohol again in my life. This was even worse than losing the goats.” There was some humor in her tone, and it helped alleviate Aiden’s mood slightly. When she spoke again, though, the rest sent a stinging pain into his heart. “I can’t believe I acted in such a shameless manner with you, milord. I cannot apologize enough for it.”
No, this wasn’t fair. She could regret the way things had unfolded, but he refused to hear she also regretted the blissful moment they’d had. Whether she admitted it or not, alcohol hadn’t been at play there. He’d seen it in her eyes. She’d desired him, she’d wanted this. The dance, the intimacy, the kiss they almost shared… the only issue with it was that it had been in front of a crowd.
“There are many things I regret about that night, Amalia,” he gravely declared. “But the proximity we shared isn’t one of them.”
She looked up at him, her wide doe eyes confusedly scanning his intent gaze. “Milord, what happened was a disastrous mistake on my part. Had I been in full control of my capacity, I never would have done something so foolish and absurd.”
He tried very hard not to take it to heart. Maybe she wasn’t ready to accept what they had. Maybe she was lying, either to him or to herself. But he knew the truth. He knew there was something between them. A bond more profound than the friendship they shared.
“Anyhow,” she continued, failing at sounding unfazed. “I came here to apologize for my behavior and to wish you a speedy recovery.” She curtsied and moved toward the door.
“Are you leaving?” he asked, disappointed.
“Yes, milord. I don’t want to impose, as I’m sure you have better things to do than entertain me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I— I thought you would rather not see me again, after what— what I made you go through.”
“Amalia, you cannot fathom how wrong you are.” He shook his head with a joyless laugh. “I have been sitting in the darkness of my room, worried sick about you, hoping to see you again. Not an hour has gone by without me praying for your visit.”
His confession shocked her to the point where she couldn’t speak properly. “But, you— I…” She stopped, hesitant, before pausing to think. “Why?”
“Is it that hard to believe that I just enjoy your company?” he asked with slight amusement.
“Yes, it is! I mean… My brothers almost killed you, and you still want to see me?”
“Your brothers didn’t ‘almost kill me’. They merely shook some tender ribs and gave me a few contusions. The beating I told you about, the reason why I’m here, that almost killed me. And they had crowbars and were five. Trust me, I’m fine.”
She didn’t say anything, staring at him with bewilderment.
“Well, in that case, that settles it. You are staying for the afternoon,” he insisted. She opened her mouth to protest but changed her mind, maybe deciding that today, of all days, they could try not to argue. “Here,” he added, handing her an envelope he’d taken before leaving his room.
“Absolutely not! Today is free,” she refused with an outraged expression. “But I don’t have my violin.”
“Ah! The perfect opportunity, then,” he excitedly declared. He went to the door and asked the footman posted there to go fetch a package in the music room. When he came back, she was suspiciously squinting her eyes at him. “When you arrived that first day with that poor excuse of a violin, I ordered you a new one from London. It took a long time to arrive, but it was delivered two days ago.”
Aiden knew her well enough to expect some degree of bickering about this. Normally, she would have protested, but for once, she stayed silent. It was clear to him that her mind was running at full speed. But she said nothing, holding her tongue back, accepting the gesture. The guilt she felt toward what had happened might be stronger than he’d thought. They waited in silence, a slight tension lingering in the air, and the footman quickly came back with the package.
Once the man had left, they sat down on the couch, and Aiden watched her as she opened it. The case was made of fine wood and covered with very soft leather. She stroked it and smiled at the enjoyable texture. She then undid the locks with reverence and slowly opened the case to reveal the violin.
It was a magnificent instrument. They didn’t have a Stradivarius on hand when he had ordered, but it was the next best thing. It came from a renowned French luthier and had cost a small fortune. The color of the wood and its grain were ideal. The proportions were perfect, and he already knew that the weight of it would be optimal. She also had three bows, so she wouldn’t need a new one for a while. She turned to face him, smiling like the happiest woman on Earth.
“Thank you, Aiden,” she said.
With her hand on his shoulder, she pulled him down and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was his turn to grin like an idiot. Alright, between the name and the kiss, he’d definitely offer her more violins in the future.
“Try it,” he asked after clearing his throat. “I’m in the mood to listen today, not to play. Also, my hand still isn’t quite healed.”
Stretching it, he showed her the bruises on his knuckles that were still visible. “It’s still healing much better than Sebastian’s face,” she pointed out, and he could almost hear some satisfaction in her tone.
With her new violin and a bow in hand, she gladly complied, standing up to walk to the other side of the coffee table. She played a few notes, adjusted a peg to tune the violin, and played again. Within a few seconds, she was filling the blue room with enchanting notes, hypnotizing him.
They stayed like this for a long time, her playing and him watching her. Every now and then, she opened her eyes to look at him, and she would give him the most gorgeous smile, before closing her eyes again, focusing on the music.
He could have stayed like this for hours, days, solely basking in her, in the vision she offered, the melodies she produced… It took Appleton’s interruption, when he came to tell them the carriage was ready, to stop her and rip him out of his enchanted state. Arguing she wouldn’t know how to explain its origins to her family, she decided to leave her violin at the manor.
Once more, she apologized for her behavior at the party, and once more, he dismissed it. Disarmed by his insistence, she then babbled another “Thank you” for the gift.
Never had it been so hard to watch her leave, but Aiden consoled himself with the knowledge that she was coming back tomorrow. And the days after that.
So, Amalia plays several songs, but I’m going to give you just one: a lil’ bit of Mozart, ’cause I ain’t given you none so far. So, there you go: Adagio for violin and orchestra in E Major, K.261, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
【10】Childhood Memories
Serenade in B flat, K.361 “Gran partita”: 3. Adagio, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
The following afternoon, the first day of August, Amalia was thrilled to be welcomed back to the manor. For an entire week, she had worried that the earl would never want to see her again. He would have been absolutely right not to. She’d behaved like a harlot. It still mortified her to think of what she’d made him go through. From that embarrassing dance to the beating.
Adding to her immense shame, she had been grounded, and her father had forbidden her to leave the camp. Her first visit – as soon as she’d been able to – had been to the manor, to make sure he was alright. But regardless of her family preventing her from coming earlier, she wouldn’t have wanted Aiden to see her with that horrible black eye.
She could still remember with incredible acuity the way he’d thrown himself at Sebastian, like possessed, before beating him with rage. The earl seemed to be a relatively balanced person, and she wouldn’t have imagined him to be prone to such a fit of anger. Also, she would have predicted he’d strike Paul, who had been the one to hit him in the first place. But no, Aiden had directed his anger on Sebastian because he’d hit her .
Sometimes, the terrible moment she’d lived while her people had beaten him, holding him to keep him defenseless, came back to her mind. Every time, her throat clutched and her heart ached at the memory. Never, in her entire life, had she felt so helpless, trying in vain to get them to stop, failing at helping the earl. When her father had taken pity on him and stopped her brothers, relief had allowed her to breathe again.
In a silent exchange, she’d tried to pass all of her guilt, remorse, and regret in her eyes. Heartbroken to have caused him such pain, she’d then watched through sobs and tears as he’d gotten back into his old carriage, certain it was the last time she would see him.
Somehow, she’d been so sure he’d never want to meet her again. The idea of being rejected had made her dread the moment she’d come back to the manor. She had thought about never returning, but the desire to see him one last time had been too great to dismiss, and she’d courageously gone to him.
She still couldn’t believe her luck. Despite everything, he still wanted her company. Not only did he not wish to be apart from her, but he’d also been worried about her ever since the incident. He cared greatly, and the thought of it warmed her more than the summer sun on her skin.
From the comfort of the carriage he’d sent, she was watching the landscape unfold with a dreamy smile on her face. For once, she was glad things hadn’t unraveled as she had expected.
She enjoyed having access to the manor, the books, the afternoon treats, the comfort, the amenities… Most of all, she enjoyed the earl’s company. When she was with him, she felt like a better person. He challenged her to be her best self, even if he didn’t know that.
The thought of him viewing her as some savage, poorly mannered bohemian, was unbearable. Also, she ensured that she was always clean, which wasn’t easy when one lived in a muddy field surrounded by hyperactive children. She worked on her posture and manners, and cursed as little as possible. She was trying her best to be ladylike, even though she had no clue how to be a lady. It could have been a burden, but she wanted to deserve his affection. She felt compelled to rise to his level, even though it was clear that sometimes he would gladly lower to hers.
She recognized the alley that led to the manor and prepared to get out. The carriage stopped, and she waited for the footman to come to open her door. In the beginning, she would get out on her own. But the man, Christopher, had explained it was his job, and he felt terrible every time she’d be the one opening the door.
The handle was pulled, but it wasn’t the footman. It was Aiden. “Miss Romero,” he greeted with a slight bow.
“Lord Graham,” she answered with the same formality, even though she couldn’t hold back a smile.
He offered assistance to help her with the steps, and she took it. With their hands tightly wound together, he eased her out. All the way to the manor’s doors, none of them let go. She enjoyed the warmth of his large fingers wrapped around her small hand. When he eventually let her go, she instantly missed the contact, wishing she could touch him like this more often – if not all the time.
To her great relief, they resumed their pleasant afternoons as if nothing had happened. They would spend time playing music, reading books, having deep and meaningful conversations, eating some delicious afternoon sweets… She was grateful that all of this was still possible, and she had the earl to thank for that.
But as much as she wanted to believe everything was just like before, something was different. As the days passed, it became more and more apparent that their dynamics had shifted. He was still the same man, charming, considerate, and flirty, but she was the one who had changed. She didn’t argue as much anymore, didn’t feel the need to defend herself as often as she used to. Also, she laughed more freely and didn’t feel offended when he shamelessly teased her. After what he’d done for her back at her camp, her guard had crumbled and disappeared. The man had won over her trust, and she didn’t fear him anymore.
The amiability of their exchanges brought her great satisfaction. Their relationship was now more harmonious, and the bond that linked them was growing stronger with each encounter. They were getting closer, a comfortable intimacy settling between them.
She loved her new violin. For hours, she played pieces and whole symphonies, enjoying the way it felt in her hands, adoring the beauty of its sound. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her, and she’d cherish it until the day she died. Aiden seemed to enjoy watching her, sometimes accompanying her on the grand piano or his Stradivarius.
They tried to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible, but on rainy days they would relax in one of the sitting rooms. She had found a book with poetry and would sometimes read a few poems aloud while he listened with attention. Every now and then, she would contemplate him when he wasn’t paying attention. She doubted she would meet a man so dashing ever again, so she tried to take in as much of him as she could; before all of this came to an end.
Every time she thought of the end of the summer fast approaching, it made her heart ache. He would return to London, to his friends and distractions, and she would stay behind. It would be hard to resume her boring life, knowing she’d never experience anything as exciting as this summer ever again.
In the meantime, she enjoyed learning new things about him, about his past, his stories…
On a sunny afternoon, they were lying on the grass, searching for shapes in the clouds, enjoying the sun after three long days of rain. The position they were lying in was odd but perfect for what they were doing. Their bodies were aligned in opposite directions on the lawn, with their heads close to each other, their ears almost touching.
“I can’t see it,” he insisted.
“This is the trunk,” she explained, pointing at the shape in the cloud, trying to show him what she could see. “Those are its ears. That’s a tusk. That’s the other one.”
“Does it mean this would be its legs?” he asked, pointing up too, his hand close to her.
Not resisting the impulse, she grabbed his wrist and moved it into the proper area. “Those are the legs, and this is the tail,” she finished explaining, aligning his arm accordingly. She reluctantly let go of him and settled her hand back on her stomach, next to the other one.
“Are you sure you’ve seen an elephant before?” he teased.
The wind was blowing hard today, and the clouds were moving fast. The image of the elephant she’d so clearly seen moments ago was already distorting, and she had to admit it was harder to picture it.
“I have, thank you very much. We went to a circus when I was a child, and they had one,” she defended herself.
“Ah, so you’ve even seen a live one. The only one they would ever allow me to get close to as a child was a stuffed one in a dusty museum.”
“Were you so terrible they needed to keep you away from wild animals?” she asked with amusement.
“According to my mother, I was a mischievous little demon, but I only remember going on adventures. I was often grounded in my bedroom, but I would always escape, then come back before anyone noticed I was missing.”
“How did you do that?” she wondered, amused.
“You know that old oak near the manor, on the side that looks over the lake?” he asked. Amalia nodded with a hum. “There was a large branch coming just near my balcony. It’s still there, actually. I’d stand on the balustrade and jump on it. The first few times were terrifying. The jump was about four feet long. But with time, it became effortless. I did it for years, but one day I missed it. I had a fifteen-foot fall. Thank God nothing too bad happened to me. I only broke my arm.”
“Poor little daredevil,” she sympathized.
“With the broken limb, it took me forever to climb up that tree and jump back on my balcony. When they came to release me from my punishment, I pretended I had fallen from my bed. Since that day, I have never used that branch again. At first, I was too scared to do it, and by the time I overcame my fears, I wasn’t misbehaving as much and barely ever got grounded.”
He’d added that last bit of information like it was some kind of great accomplishment, and Amalia smiled while shaking her head.
“What about you? I doubt you were a quiet little girl,” he ventured.
Amalia tried to look offended but failed miserably. “I was a terrible child, yes. I have known my fair share of groundings. My father or my mother would lock me in the caravan. I, however, had found a way to get out of it. Just like you.”
Forgetting about the clouds, he twisted his face to the side and looked at her while he listened, amused and intrigued.
“I had managed to pull out two planks from the floor, just under my bed. As soon as they would lock me in, I’d remove them and crawl under the caravan, waiting for the way to get clear so I could leave. I would spend my illicit time walking around the woods, looking for berries to eat, animals to observe… One day, I ventured too far and got lost. When my parents came to fetch me, they only found the two planks I had removed.” She shivered at the memory, still fresh in her mind.
“I spent the worst night of my life,” she continued, “curled up between two massive roots, crying for my mother, in the freezing cold.” She turned to face him as well and met his eyes, reading the compassion and worry in them. “It was dawn when they finally found me, half-dead from exposure. From that day, they stopped locking me in as a punishment. They gave me extra chores instead, and that worked much better. I was behaving, just to avoid having to do them.”
Before he could stop himself, his hand came to her face and caressed her temple. With their upside-down position, only his knuckles could reach her, but he managed to put a stranded curl behind her ear. “You must have been scared to death,” he murmured, leaving his hand on the side of her face. With his thumb, he gently grazed her cheekbone.
She was enjoying his touch too much to push it away. “I was. For hours I thought I would die. I was half asleep when they found me. I barely remember the way back to the camp, but I remember the relief when I woke up in a warm bed, my mother by my side.” She brought one of her hands to his, and despite the odd arrangement, their fingers tangled together. “I wasn’t quite done battling death yet. I had a fever that lasted four days. They were certain I’d die from it.”
“Thank God you didn’t.”
With his beautiful blue eyes focused on hers, their hands still on her cheek, she was feeling the most serene she’d ever been. It was the most intimate moment they had shared in all their weeks together. Amalia was at peace, her heart was open, and she wanted to be nowhere else but here, with him. Everything seemed to stop around them, and had the birds not kept chirping, she would have been certain time itself had halted.
After a brief hesitation, Aiden moved closer to her with a slow but decided gesture. The tips of their noses touched, and she let hers glide along the bridge of his. In perfect harmony with one another, they extended their necks and tipped their heads up in an effort to unite their mouths. Her heart must have been hammering in her chest, but the moment was so soft, so right, she felt nothing but happiness and affection. They both wanted this kiss – practically since the day they’d met. Her eyes closed on their own as she readied herself to savor the touch of his lips.
“Milord!” yelled someone from the manor.
Both halted their motion, less than an inch away from their goal. Amalia opened her eyes and looked in the direction of the interrupter. A footman was running toward them.
“Milord, you must come!”
Aiden released her hand and stood up. He helped her to her feet, and she quickly brushed her skirts.
“What is it?” he asked sharply, not hiding his irritation.
“Milord,” said the footman, out of breath, “the duke and the duchess have arrived. Along with your sisters.”
You are getting another Mozart piece, because this one is round and light like clouds, and it’s peaceful, like Aiden and Amalia’s relationship. For now (I love stressing you out with those). Serenade in B flat, K.361 “Gran partita”: 3. Adagio, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
【11】Unexpected Visitors
Symphony No. 8 in C minor: III. Presto assai, by William Herschel
It took a few seconds for the footman’s words to make sense. As soon as they processed them, Aiden’s face turned white while Amalia panicked. Her brain actively worked on finding a way to get out of this situation. Her safest solution was to walk to the woods and go around the manor so no one would see her.
“What is this madness?” Aiden asked. He had regained his composure and was looking at the poor man as if this was some bad joke. “Why are they here?”
The servant looked embarrassed, and his voice was uneven when he answered. “Milord, the duchess mentioned she sent you a letter, explaining they were coming for a week, before returning to London.”
After a moment of confusion, probably wondering how he could miss such an important detail, Aiden grimaced and turned to Amalia. Just like her, he was lost, uncertain what they could do. She watched as he thought intently about it for a few seconds, many expressions passing on his face. Just like her, he was lost, uncertain what they could do. Ready to disappear into the woods, she waited for his verdict.
Having reached a conclusion, Aiden sighed. “I guess you are meeting my parents, then.”
Her eyes opened wide, utterly shocked by his words. She hadn’t expected this outcome. Not even for a second. Had the sun made him delirious? Did he really think she’d agree to meet them?
She looked down at her modest yellow dress, her loosely tied hair flowing over her shoulders and back, and her muddy shoes… There was no way she’d meet them like this. Regardless of her attire, actually, she wouldn’t meet Aiden’s parents. A duke and a duchess? They’d throw her out without a second thought, shaming her for daring to even appear in their presence.
She was about to protest when Aiden put his hand on the small of her back, adamantly pushing her in the direction of the house.
They walked side by side, with the footman following them closely. Shock was still clouding her mind, preventing her from thinking straight. She didn’t want to meet them. They were some of the most important people in England, and she was just a bohemian, hired by their son to keep him company. They would immediately assume she was a whore, and she couldn’t bear the idea of people looking at her like that. Especially not his relatives.
“Aiden, I can’t meet them like this,” she protested, hoping she could make him hear reason.
“Nonsense, you look as lovely as ever.”
The compliment made her racing heart warm up, but she tried to think over the sweet effect of his words. “I’m serious. Your parents are practically royalty. I can’t spontaneously meet them. Or even just meet them.”
“I have their blood too, and I’ll be in my father’s position at some point. You aren’t fussing so much when you feel the need to call me an idiot,” he pointed out with humor.
“It’s not the same. You are… you ,” she insisted, unsure how to explain her ease when it came to him.
Her words seemed to affect him, and he stopped in his tracks, not pushing her forward anymore. He turned to her with a warm, affectionate expression on his face.
“Come on, love. I’ve known you to be much more tenacious and fierce than this.” In an effort to soothe her, he lifted his hand and grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The gesture had the opposite effect instead, setting her on fire. She adored it when he touched her.
The footman, who had stopped his course with them, became suddenly fascinated by a particular spot on the grass at his feet. Knowing they should avoid displaying such affectionate gestures with people around, she took his hand and gently put it down, squeezing it before releasing it.
“What if they hate me?” she asked with a trembling breath, anxiety eating her from the inside. Voicing her worries was particularly hard.
“I don’t see how they could. You are a wonderful person. They ought to see that,” he reassured her.
She looked up to meet his eyes, and the trust she saw in them undid her. He had absolutely no doubt that his family would appreciate her. If he was so confident of her ability to be liked, she could at least make the effort of believing he knew his family well.
Mustering her courage, she nodded. Since it meant that much to him, she would meet his parents. A broad, childish grin pulled the corners of his lips up, and he guided her back to the manor, even more eager to introduce her than moments before.
She tried to slow him down, to give herself enough time to reflect on how to act, but Aiden’s hand forced her to keep up. They entered, and he guided her to the main entrance. There was much agitation in the hallways. Maids and footmen were carrying all sizes of packages, luggage, and bags, hastily making their way into the manor.
Amalia and Aiden finally reached the main hall, and in the middle of it, a woman was giving them instructions. She was the most gracious and perfect woman Amalia had ever seen. Her dress was even more beautiful than anything she could have imagined. Yards of green silk, delicate lace, embroidered ribbons… The woman wearing it was as sophisticated as her garments. Her blonde hair was styled in an elaborate bun, every curl resting at a predetermined spot. She was wearing a set of sapphire jewels – a pair of chandelier earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet. Her posture was so graceful and elegant, it seemed impossible that she was human, like the rest of them.
Next to her, there were three copies of her, younger but with the same delicacy. Their dresses were pink, blue, and ivory. The youngest must have been around thirteen, but she already had more finesse than Amalia ever would. All three were as blonde as their mothers, and their skins were so pale they almost seemed translucent.
Before Amalia stood four perfect English beauties who represented everything men as privileged as Aiden looked for in a wife. Glancing down, she winced at the old dress she’d gotten from her aunt, her skin tanned by too much time in the sun, her untamed curls perpetually messy… She couldn’t have been more different from them.
Just as she thought she couldn’t feel worse, a deep voice caught her attention. Behind the feminine figures, an imposing man was talking to Appleton. He was evidently Aiden’s father. They had the same stature, the same nose, and even if his hair was now white, she could guess it used to be blond. He seemed strict and severe, and she doubted he would accept whatever Aiden would say about her.
She stopped in her tracks, and Aiden removed his hand from behind her. With a patient smile, he gave her an encouraging nod. She trusted him, but this was all too much.
“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, his mouth less than an inch from her ear. “Do this for me, please.”
He moved back, and she got lost in the blue depth of his pleading eyes. There were no limits to the things she’d do for this man. Desirous to please him, she couldn’t help but nod. They moved toward the newcomers, and she tried to ignore the heavy sensation in her gut.
“Mother! Father!” Aiden shouted, leaving her a few meters behind.
All five turned to him with surprise. His sisters ran to hug him, and he gave each of them a warm kiss on their forehead, visibly delighted to see them again. His mother’s turn came, and she gave him a tender smile, embracing him softly. Aiden then turned to his father, who gave him a single nod before shaking his hand.
Amalia waited, twisting her fingers in front of her, feeling ridiculously uneasy.
This was a terrible idea.
Once the affectionate reunion was over, Aiden turned to Amalia. The rest of his family all peered at her at once, and she couldn’t help but notice the girls’ criticizing glares on her attire. The duke raised an arrogant eyebrow up, displeased.
“I would like to introduce you to Amalia Romero,” Aiden explained. “She is here because—”
“I came to propose my services,” she blurted out, forcing on her Romani accent. She didn’t feel good about this. She knew it would end poorly if she let Aiden speak, so she came up with the best excuse she could think of. “I can read palms, and I also have a gift with tarot.” She ignored the disapproval she could see in Aiden’s eyes and kept going. “I came to see if you were interested in fortune-telling.”
No one spoke for a while, and Amalia stood there, embarrassed. The duchess was the first to respond. “What a wonderful idea!” she claimed with enthusiasm. “Aiden, darling, you were thinking of hiring her for the party?”
He was still upset with Amalia’s improvisation, so it took him a while to register what his mother had just said. “The party?”
“Have you read none of my letters? What have you been doing up here that keeps you so busy?” the duchess protested. “I wrote to you to tell you we had organized a hunting party, to celebrate the end of the Season. Over fifty people are coming from London, for a few days in the country. I have a great dinner planned on the first evening.” She paused, very pleased. “Thank goodness I also wrote to Appleton, or nothing would have been ready. At least you thought of the entertainment,” she added, gesturing to Amalia.
Aiden gave the butler a condemning look, and Amalia glared at the treacherous servant, despising the haughty look he was giving them. Quick on his feet, Aiden gave a knowing smile to his mother. “Yes, we have a camp of bohemians posted not far from here. So when this woman came to offer her services, I thought she would be perfect for your little soirée .”
“A camp of bohemians?” the duke intervened. “Appleton, have the appropriate measures been taken regarding this information?”
“The appropriate measures, your Grace?”
The duke rolled his eyes. “Have the footmen check that all the windows are properly closed every night. Also, the maids cannot go anywhere alone. I want an inventory of everything of value by tomorrow night.”
Amalia clenched her fists and bit her tongue, fighting back her need to provoke the duke. Aiden noticed and came to her rescue. “Father, nothing has happened so far. They have been around for over a month, and no one has complained. In fact, they have been a blessing for the shopkeepers in town.”
“When will you stop being so gullible, son?” the duke vehemently asked. “It is what they do. Those people are filthy animals. They would sell their own mothers for a few coins. If they could—”
The rest of it was lost in the burning anger Amalia felt. Who the hell was he to treat her people like this? This pompous man who’d probably never had a hard day in his life, who’d been given everything he could ever want from birth, had no right to say those things.
Feeling compelled to, she opened her mouth, needing to speak up for her proud and hard-working people. Who cared that the man was a duke with some lands in northern England? No one could insult a bohemian and get away with it.
Things were going terribly, and Aiden had to admit that Amalia had been right to lie the way she did. He had overestimated his father’s ability to act like a decent human being, instead of an arrogant prick. He’d spent so long away from him, he’d forgotten how terribly judgmental his father was at heart.
In all truth, he had been certain that his family would like Amalia. She was lovely, cultivated, funny, fierce, and so many other things that made her unique and lovable. Maybe they should have thought of a better way to introduce her to them. A more subtle approach might have worked better.
In the meantime, he was forced to listen to his father’s words, clenching his teeth and waiting for the man’s indignation to calm down. He glanced at Amalia, hoping she wasn’t too affected by the old man’s words. Instead of finding her troubled or distressed, he recognized the dangerous expression on her face. She was about to give his father a piece of her mind, and as much as he admired her tenacity, they had to avoid causing a ruckus.
She took a deep breath, ready for her tirade, and Aiden discreetly touched her arm, hoping he could bring her back to reason. It seemed to work, and instead of letting out a flow of honesty, she clenched her jaw.
“I think I should go now,” Amalia let out, interrupting his father. Her unstable voice was betraying her internal turmoil, but after what the duke had said, she had every right to be upset.
The man only then realized that he had been insulting her all this time. He at least had the decency to seem embarrassed, but it didn’t last long. His arrogant expression quickly came back. “Maybe you should,” he agreed.
Even when he’d been arguing with his father about his exile to the countryside, Aiden hadn’t loathed his father to this extent. He despised him for treating her like this, hating the idea of making her suffer.
Amalia bowed as gracefully as she could, ready to take her leave, but before she’d done a step, the duchess put her hand on her arm. “Please, Miss Romero, will you come back, in two days’ time, for my gathering?”
She’d spoken to her with a calm voice, as an equal, and not as if she was a ‘filthy animal’ like her husband had insinuated. His mother, the daughter of an illustrious earl, had always been an excellent duchess, handling with perfection the estates, the gatherings, and all the duties that came with her status. Aiden was thankful for the diplomacy and tact she never failed to display. Maybe her intervention would be enough to make Amalia feel better.
The young beauty nodded with a smile he could tell was forced. Despite his mother’s best efforts, Aiden knew Amalia had to leave to get out of this uncomfortable position. “I should accompany her to the gates. What if she decided to steal a tulip bulb on her way out?” he added with irony, glaring at his father.
Before she could refuse, he walked to the door. She hesitantly followed, still stiff and uneasy.
Outside, the two carriages had been emptied, and they were alone. Side by side, they walked silently on the graveled path. Aiden wasn’t sure what to say, feeling stupid for making her go through this. He should have known better.
Because he’d seen something in her from the very first time he’d gazed upon her, it didn’t mean others would too. But he firmly intended to make that change. She was someone whose company had become essential. He had even been thinking about staying for a while here, even after his punishment would be lifted. Now, London wasn’t as appealing as it used to be.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Aiden finally said. “You were right to introduce yourself as you did. I’ll make sure no one tells them you have been coming all summer. My parents need to know you before we tell them the truth. Father can be very opinionated. He isn’t a bad person. It’s just… prejudice.” It was half a lie. The duke could be reasoned with, but there also was a chance that he never changed his mind about her.
“Don’t worry about me. It isn’t the first time someone treats me like this. I don’t know how you would have introduced me, but I knew this would happen. It’s better for everyone if I’m just a stranger passing by.”
Aiden stayed silent for a moment, their steps being the only sound. She wasn’t just a stranger passing by, was she?
“As a friend,” he said after a moment of ruminating on his thoughts.
“What?”
“I would have introduced you as a friend.”
Amalia grinned, something turning tender in her eyes. “I would have loved that, Aiden.”
Without another word, only exchanging one ultimate smile, they parted at the gate. Reluctant to see her leave, as always, he kept his eyes on her until she disappeared behind the trees.
This chapter’s song would be Symphony No. 8 in C minor: III. Presto assai, by William Herschel . But I cannot find it on Youtube, so you guys are getting Symphony No. 8 in C Minor: I. Allegro
assai , still by that composer, which is kinda the same but kinda less oppressing.
【12】Divination
Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 8, RV 315, “L’estate” (Summer) - III. Presto, by Antonio Lucio Vivaldi
Amalia stood in front of the main doors, petrified with fear. Even from here, she could tell there was a lot of activity inside, which felt wrong. This manor had always been her very own oasis of calm. To delay the unavoidable a little longer, she checked her outfit for the hundredth time.
Every woman at the camp had wanted to help her look her best, so they’d all lent her something, be it a jewel or a trinket. When Amalia moved her arms, the gold bracelets at her wrists chimed. She had a headpiece with golden coins hanging on her forehead and a huge necklace with more golden coins and glass rubies. Even her mother had taken part and had forced her to wear some makeup, so she had to remember not to touch her eyes.
She had borrowed a dress from the most coquettish woman in the camp, and she couldn’t help but constantly adjust its cleavage. The owner of the dress had a narrower waist than her, which meant she had to wear a corset to compensate. So, not only did she feel uncomfortable, but it also pushed her breast up in a way that was highly inappropriate, even by her people’s standards. She’d taken a shawl with the hope that it would hide her overflowing breasts, and she tried to keep her long braid in front of her.
One last time, she nervously checked the content of her bag. There was a deck of tarot, an embroidered tablecloth, and the notes her aunt had given her.
She’d spent the last two days learning everything she could about divination. Luckily, her aunt was the best in the camp, and she had explained to her everything she needed to know. Ingrid actually had a gift to see people’s future and past. But for this occasion, Amalia only needed to know how to read people – not cards. Then she’d be able to tell them whatever they wanted to hear.
Unmarried young women wanted to know they would find a husband soon or that it would happen when they expected it the least. Married ones or widows wanted to hear that they would climb higher on the social ladder, and their children would do amazing things. Older men wanted to live forever, and the young ones wanted to have a life full of adventures.
She’d also learned the card’s meanings. The complete deck was seventy-eight cards, but she hadn’t memorized them all. So she had taken half of them, the main ones, and would have people draw six cards, then select three out of those. Once the cards were picked, she had to find a way to link them, and fabricate a story that seemed plausible, covering all three cards.
Amalia was good at stories. She could do this.
Her aunt had also explained to her how to read the lines in someone’s hand. Apparently, gentlemen enjoyed having their hands stroked by pretty young women, and if she played her role well, she could get a lot of tips.
Amalia sighed, stretched her neck, and knocked.
The doors opened, and the footman, a young man she knew well, stared at her in shock. Oh God, was it too much? Before she could express her worries, the man closed his mouth, blinked a few times, and told her, “Miss Romero… If I may… You look splendid.”
After letting out a relieved sigh, she hit the footman on the arm with her bag. “You scared me, Marcus, don’t do that again.”
The young man laughed and invited her in. He accompanied her to the ballroom, where the party was already unraveling. He politely asked her to wait. Two footmen opened the double door and closed them behind him once he had entered. She had enough time to see the crowd inside, and the stress that flooded her made her palms sweaty. She nervously wiped them on her skirts, wondering why on earth she was here.
Her throat felt dry, and it felt tight, as if a heavy knot was stuck in it. Her feet wanted to turn around and run. There was no way this evening would unfold without an issue. A bohemian surrounded by the country’s elite? That sounded like a terrible idea. If a single one of the guests misplaced a valuable belonging, she’d be the first one accused.
Christ, she had to leave before it was too late. Before she could turn around and flee, the doors opened again, and the duchess came out of the room.
“You look incredible!” she claimed, gazing up and down at Amalia. “So very authentic. They will love you in there.”
Remarkably friendly compared to her husband, the duchess hooked her arm with one of Amalia’s, leading her toward the open doors. She gave Appleton a single nod, and the butler tapped the cane he was holding three times on the ground, getting everyone’s attention.
In half a second, the orchestra stopped, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to Amalia. She scanned the crowd in search of a particular pair of blue irises.
“Dear guests,” the duchess called, stopping Amalia in her search for Aiden. “Miss Romero will be our entertainment for the evening. She is an expert in the art of the occult, and she will read our fortunes.” A clamor followed the announcement. She turned to Amalia, a friendly smile on her pink lips. “Do you need to be in a separate room? It might be too noisy for you to focus in here. I have had the yellow parlor prepared in case you needed it.”
Touched by her consideration, Amalia confirmed it would be better for her to be in a smaller room with fewer people. The duchess also told her she would have a moment to prepare until the first guests were sent to her. Before she could look again for the earl, the duchess had her escorted out by a footman, who led her to the yellow parlor.
When they reached it, Amalia looked at the familiar room. It was large by her standards, but compared to the other ones in the manor, it was almost cozy. The curtains were drawn, and a few candles were scattered around. The couches had been moved to the side, and in the middle of the room, there was a table, with two chairs facing each other.
Ignoring the trembling of her hands, Amalia opened her bag, took out the patchwork tablecloth, and draped it over the one already on the table. On it, she settled one of the candelabra from the mantle of the fireplace to have enough light for her readings. She sat down, placed her deck of cards to her right, and tried to remember her aunt’s instructions.
Someone knocked on the door, and her entire body stiffened. She wasn’t ready yet. Not at all. Before she could say anything, the door opened, and to her relief, Aiden came in.
“Thank God it’s you,” she sighed.
“Are you nervous, Miss Romero?”
“I’m more than that. I’m terrified, Aiden.” Understanding the extent of her distraught, he worriedly came to sit in front of her as his smile vanished.
“If you want, I can find an excuse to get you out of this,” he offered.
“No, I can do it. It’s just that I have only trained on my family. I’m not sure I will be good at this.”
Without an ounce of hesitation, he gave her his hand, palm up. “Here, try me,” he suggested. She beamed at him, feeling better already.
“It’s the wrong hand.” Swiftly, he put his hand down and gave her the other one. After a short moment of hesitation, she took it in hers, her thumbs grazing the warm skin of his palm. “I had never noticed how big your hands were.”
Feeling something odd under her fingers, she turned his hand and saw the remains of his fistfight with her brothers. With her thumb, she brushed it gently. Before she could even think about it, she lowered to give his marked knuckles a tender kiss. As she straightened up, she offered him an apologetic smile. In his eyes, she read no traces of blame, and once more, she felt so thankful for how amazingly he treated her.
She turned his palm again, face up, keeping her left hand under his. With a gentle push, she silently ordered him to flatten it. The light wasn’t as efficient as she would have wanted, so she had to bend closer to inspect the lines of his palm. With her index, she stroked them gently.
“This is your health line,” she explained while following a particular line. “Yours is long and deep. You will have a good life, very active. Wait…” she added. She bent closer to his hand, as if she was trying to read some hidden details. “I see you broke your arm when you were a child?”
She lifted her head to give him a playful smile, proud of her joke. But he wasn’t smiling. He was even frowning. Ignoring his strange mood, she focused back on his hand.
“This one,” she said, stroking another line. “This one is your head line. Its length means you’re smart. This, right there, is your heart line. It’s uninterrupted and strong, meaning an abundance of love, and it finishes right here,” she showed him, “so you will find your true love.” He still wasn’t responsive, so she just kept going. “Your money line is impressive, of course.”
She paused, looked at her own hand, and sighed. “I don’t even have one…” Going back to him, she touched another part of his hand. “Right here is your children line. It shows—”
“Do you have gloves?” he abruptly asked, interrupting her.
“Gloves? No, I haven’t brought any,” she answered, disconcerted. Displeased by her answer, he stood from his chair.
“I will have someone fetch you a pair then.”
“No, wait! Aiden, I cannot read palms while wearing gloves.”
“You also cannot touch people’s hands without gloves like this.”
“Why? Because I’m a filthy bohemian?” she erupted, still hurt by the way his family seemed to consider her.
“What!” he reacted, utterly revolted. She immediately regretted the assumption she’d made. Never had Aiden treated her in a poor manner, so there was no reason for him to start now. “No, it is because you aren’t supposed to touch strangers skin to skin, Amalia!” he explained, still irritated. “Especially like this! It isn’t appropriate.”
Really affected by his troubled state, she swiftly stood and came next to him. With her hand on his arm, she gave him a soothing caress, offering him a compassionate smile. It seemed to work a little, and he seemed less agitated. “Aiden, I can’t read palms with gloves on…” she said in a calm voice.
“Then I will stay here, with you. And if someone tries to make a pass at you, I will break his nose,” he finally declared.
Amalia couldn’t help but feel delighted by his possessiveness. It wasn’t supposed to feel this right, but it did. And she wasn’t even deserving of it in the first place. But there it was.
“I will try to maintain my readings to tarot if it can reassure you,” she proposed. “Come, I will show you.”
They sat down again, rid of the distressing moment. She was spreading the cards, face down, when the doors opened. Four men came in, looking opulent and arrogant in their evening suits.
“I see Lord Graham has beaten us to it!” said a young aristocrat. “We shall wait for our turns then!” he added, accepting his defeat. They all sat down and quietly watched the earl’s reading.
With those new observers, the tension in her shoulders returned. But she, however, tried to focus on the cards, dismissing their intimidating presence.
First, she asked Aiden to choose six cards, but not randomly. He had to truly choose them. As he picked them, she took them out, and once all six were chosen, she shuffled them and put them on the tablecloth, face down. Now, he had to select three. He did, and she revealed them, putting the chosen ones on the right, then the other three on the left. Every time she turned a new card, she told him its name and meaning. She then made up a story and invented a future.
Aiden would have a long life, but he had to be careful with alcohol, for it could become his doom. At some point, he’d marry a woman suited for him, only to lose her to disease. But not after she had given him many children. After her, he’d never remarry.
The whole time, he sent her amused looks. Clearly, he didn’t believe anything she was saying. In all truth, she didn’t believe any of it either, but she had to keep up the appearances. When he tried to make her answer some follow-up questions, she told him she had many guests to read this evening, so she had to keep it short.
Sour, he got up and sat down in one of the armchairs behind her. Crossing his arms, he extended his legs in front of him, getting ready to stay for a long time.
One of the four men rose from the couch and sat in the chair in front of her. She asked him to cut the deck, ready to do this all over again.
To the first one, she predicted money issues. Given the poor state of his shirt, she imagined he wasn’t as wealthy as he wanted people to believe.
For the second man, she ventured he was a bachelor and guessed right. She told him he would marry late but would travel to a foreign land, far east. He’d enjoy a life filled with adventures before settling down.
By the time she finished with him, three more guests had entered the room; two men and a woman. The third man sat down, and as soon as she caught the pompous expression, Amalia knew he’d be problematic.
“I don’t believe in chance. Cards don’t interest me. Can you read palms?” he asked with smugness.
She distinctly heard Aiden straighten up behind her. “I can read palms, yes. But I was only paid to read cards tonight. If you want me to read your hand, there will be a fee.”
“How much?” he asked. With the hope that he would change his mind, she gave him a ridiculous sum, hoping it would deter him. Half a pound. Instead of refusing, he took out a pouch from a pocket inside his jacket and took out one pound. “There. You can read both my hands.”
Stunned, Amalia looked at the money, then at the man. He put down both his hands on the table and waited. “It’s useless to read both hands,” she argued. “Your left hand tells what you were born with. Your right one tells who you became.”
“Well then, just read the right one twice, or consider the rest of the money as a gesture of my gratitude.”
Amalia could have sworn she heard Aiden growl behind her. Trying her best to keep her distance, she settled the man’s hand in front of her, keeping hers to the sides. She read the lines the best she could from afar, knowing Aiden would appreciate her efforts. When she told the lord he didn’t have a sun line, he looked dubious.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Look closer.”
She bent forward to check but confirmed it. The man wasn’t affected by it at all. On the contrary, it seemed to delight him. Once the session was over, he moved away, and another man took his place. This one insisted on palm reading too.
As would all the others, she’d come to realize.
Aiden was in hell. When she had arrived in that red dress with gold embroidery, his heart had raced in his chest. She was stunning and would make quite an impression with everybody here. He had followed her as quickly as he’d been able to. Upon finding her worried and panicking, he’d wanted nothing more than to help her.
As soon as she’d begun the reading of his palm, it had become clear that this little divination thing would be a problem. The sensation of her fingers gently brushing the inside of his hand had been a revelation. No one had ever stroked him there in this manner, and it had sent shivers through his entire body, making a certain part of his anatomy swell from the unprecedented pleasure it brought. And that wasn’t all. Every time she bent forward, her corseted breasts seemed about to spill out of that damned dress.
He should have insisted more on her wearing gloves. It wouldn’t have solved everything, but it would at least have been an improvement. As suspected, it hadn’t taken long for the gentlemen to realize that having one’s hand read was far more interesting than a tarot reading. Now, every one of them was asking to have their palm read, rather than tarot. Her pile of coins was getting bigger, and with each one, Aiden’s mood plummeted.
She had tried to avoid it, and he appreciated that fact. But now, every time she bent toward them, he could see the salacious glances they gave her. Sometimes, when a gentleman was getting too forward, Aiden would get up and stand next to the table, looking dominating and possessive. That usually calmed the idiot fast.
After the twenty-sixth guest, she declared she needed a break. Aiden nearly let out a relieved sigh, needing one as well. Along with the guests, they headed back to the ballroom. On the way there, Amalia was conversing with a young baron known for being a debauched moron. She was laughing at his jokes, and each of her giggles triggered something dark and murderous in him.
For the first time in his life, Aiden was feeling exceedingly jealous – which he didn’t like one bit.
It had taken him weeks of building her trust to hear her laugh like this. She’d been so reluctant to open up, to be relaxed and easy around him… And now she was doing it after mere minutes with this imbecile.
They reached the ballroom, and their little group spread around. Amalia stayed with the baron, who was visibly entranced by her. Aiden watched them from afar, a glass of something strong in his hand. Lady Branton approached, along with her two daughters, to introduce them to him. Aiden politely greeted them and tried to entertain a mundane conversation without much success. Nothing could rip his attention from Amalia, who was now touching the man’s arm.
After excusing himself, he made a move to go to them, ready to put an end to this farce. But he was stopped by another mother with a daughter to marry. He stiffly greeted them and was about to keep moving when the lady had the audacity to suggest a dance with her daughter. Aiden couldn’t refuse without passing for an arse, so he invited the girl for a minuet.
While they were turning and spinning among the other dancers, he had some difficulty keeping up with what Amalia was doing. But it seemed two more men were talking with her. When the interminable dance finally ended, he was on the other side of the room. He tried his best to reach Amalia.
On his way there, he was stopped a few times by peers, women with little virtue, ambitious mothers… When he finally reached Amalia, she was surrounded by four men, laughing heartily at a joke someone had just made. That was it. He’d indulged whatever this was for long enough.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he declared with a firm voice, “I need to borrow Miss Romero for a moment.” The men protested, but he gave them a glare that left no room for defiance.
Having reached the end of his patience, he grabbed Amalia by the arm and guided her to one of the exits. When she tried to protest, he hushed her. Once outside, he dragged her upstairs, heading to his study.
“Aiden, you are hurting me,” she whimpered, writhing her wrist in an attempt to free herself from his grip.
He loosened his hold but didn’t let go of her, beyond furious.
A bit of music for you, but first, I need to let something out. I’m super sad, because Tchaikovsky is like, one of my all-time favorite composers, but he doesn’t start his work for like, fifty years, and I’m trying to remain accurate in what I give you. But I might one day just go crazy and share one with you. I know, how bold of me!
In the meantime, that’s what happening in Aiden’s head right now: Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 8, RV 315, “L’estate” (Summer) - III. Presto, by Antonio Lucio Vivaldi.
【13】Ten Times That
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K. 467, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart .
As soon as they reached his study, Aiden pushed her inside before slamming the door behind them. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon, slipping through the half-opened curtains. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust. When they did, he turned to her, his raging mood still intact.
“What do you think you are doing?” he roared. Her worried expression turned into consternation.
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t be like this with these men!” he shouted. “They will imagine things. One of them will try something if you keep behaving like this!”
“Like what?” she asked, nearly yelling as well.
“Like a fucking courtesan!”
She took a step back, outraged. Ah, shit… He’d spoken too fast, and he’d insulted her, which he never should have. His jealousy and anger had gotten the best of him, and he was about to regret it even more.
Pointing an accusing finger at him, she practically vibrated with rage.
“Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths, you know! Some of us need money. We can’t all have our days filled with leisure time and frivolities.” She was now screaming vehemently. “Because you’ve led an easy life of idleness doesn’t mean we all get that chance, Aiden! I have a family – sisters – to take care of. Tonight is the perfect opportunity to do so. And I won’t let you ruin it because you think I can’t handle a few horny men!”
“Didn’t you get enough money from me?” he asked, scandalized by how she was trying to turn this onto him.
“There will never be ‘enough money’ Aiden,” she replied, her voice cracking. Something else was slowly replacing her anger, and he read the distress in her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like to be as poor as I have been. What it’s like to have to give your share of food to your baby sisters because they are so hungry they can’t stop crying.” She paused, her eyes watery and unfocused. “I’m never letting them go through that again. Ever.”
Aiden remained silent, letting her confession sink in. He hadn’t realized she had gone through all this. The bohemian camp here was well-supplied, but it was possible that before, they had gone through some tough times. He hated the idea that she could be hungry, cold, not taken care of… It was too much for him to imagine Amalia suffering because she was lacking something as trivial as money.
Her making the most of tonight, charming these men to get more money, meant so much more than he’d thought. He knew her well by now. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t a flirt or a seducer. She didn’t do these things, not with him, and not with anyone else, from what he’d seen. But tonight, her survival instinct had taken the lead. These fools outside didn’t stand a chance. Not when she was so adamant about making more money, spurred by a past of misery and the knowledge there might be more of it in the future.
Without saying anything, Aiden went to a glass cabinet, opened it, and took out a book. From it, he retrieved a hidden key before putting the book back in its place. He then went to the safe behind his desk and opened it. Without thinking about it twice, he retrieved the bundle of one pound bills there, and went back to Amalia.
“This is fifty pounds,” he explained, handing her the money. “Take it. I won’t ask anything in exchange for it. Nothing other than for you to, please, stop flirting with those men.”
Astonished, Amalia stared at the money with uncertainty, never making a move to take it. “You would give me fifty pounds just so I’d stop talking to those men?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would give you ten times that, but this is all I have on hand.”
He could see that a thousand questions were running through her mind, but she could only form one. “Why?”
The question took him by surprise. Why, indeed?
In the past, he’d never been like this with any woman. None of his conquests had ever turned him into a possessive caveman. His relationships never lasted long enough to make him feel like he needed to claim a woman as his. Even with his longest affairs, which had lasted up to five months, he had been able to watch the women flirt and talk to other men without it being an issue. Hell, he’d even shared a few with acquaintances, and it had caused no problem.
Why was Amalia so different?
He looked at her, her dark eyes full of confusion. Despite the headpiece hiding it, he knew that when she frowned like this, there was this vertical fold forming between her eyebrows. He knew that when she smiled – when she truly smiled – a dimple appeared on her left cheek. He knew she could fit seven and a half sugar cookies at once in her mouth, four without breaking them. He knew that sometimes when she laughed too hard, she would let out a small snorting sound, which never failed to make her stop at once. It embarrassed her greatly each time, but he had never minded it, finding it endearing instead. Knowing she was laughing hard enough to reach this point always left him elated.
In over twenty-five years, he had never learned so much about anyone. Not even his sisters. He cherished every single detail about her. Even what could have felt like a fault on someone else felt like a quality on Amalia. She was stubborn, but debating with her was something he could do for hours. Her sharp tongue was unsparing, but he loved it when she didn’t hesitate to put him back in his place. She was exuberant, and he adored that she never tried to hide her emotions, or how she always said what she was thinking.
He loved everything he knew about the woman. And every time he discovered something new, it only lengthened the list.
All of a sudden, an epiphany dawned on him.
He loved her. For everything she was. With his whole heart.
Of course, he did.
She was perfect.
It didn’t exactly come as a shock, but he finally understood why his relationship with this woman was so different from what he knew. For the first time in his life, he was in love with someone. With her .
The knowledge energized him; his mind was galvanized with the idea that he couldn’t have found someone more deserving of his love. Amalia was the most unique person he’d ever encountered. Sure, it had taken them a while to adapt to each other, but the harmony of their relationship now predicted that they would get along perfectly. Yes, sometimes they still argued, just like moments ago, but it was unavoidable with a woman like her. She had a mind of her own, her pride, her intelligence… and she would never stop defending it. He wouldn’t want her to, anyway.
“Aiden, why would you give me fifty, or even five hundred pounds?” she asked again, still dismayed.
Aiden was tired of leaving things unsaid. All this beating around the bush would lead them nowhere. They had known each other for long enough, and he’d fallen for her almost from the start. Even if he’d only realized it now. She needed to know, too.
“Because I’m in love with you, Amalia.”
Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. He didn’t know if she loved him back, but if she didn’t yet, he was hopeful he could conquer her. He wouldn’t rush her, allowing her to move at her own pace. But it was certain she would, in the end, love him back. They were destined for each other; he was convinced of it.
“Seeing you like this with those men… it wrecks me. Especially when it took you so long to be this comfortable around me,” he explained with patience. She still couldn’t talk, so he shook the money in front of her. “Please. Take it and stop torturing me for the night.”
She didn’t move. Utterly silent, she stood there, processing what he had just told her. When she talked, her voice was shaky and unstable. “I wasn’t like this with you because…” She hesitated. “I know nothing will ever happen with those men downstairs. But with you, Aiden, it was different. I was always in real danger.”
“In danger of what?”
“Of losing myself. Of… letting go.”
His heart swelled in his chest, delighted by her confession. It was different for her, too. He threw the money on his desk and moved toward her. Distressed by whatever was happening within her, she took a step back. When he met her eyes and read the confusion in them, it quenched whatever offense he might have taken. She was troubled, battling with her desires and her conscience.
“Amalia, let go.”
“But I can’t, don’t you see it?” A desperate tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with a hurried gesture. “You will end up leaving, and I will stay. I will never meet someone else like you, Aiden.”
He tried to reach for her again, but she took another step away from him, evading his grasp. She gave him a warning glance, raising a cautionary finger between them. “One day, you will find a woman from your world, and you will marry her, Aiden. She will bear your children, and you will spend the rest of your life with them. All I will be left with is a broken heart and some memories, while you live your life with your perfect wife, in your perfect palace, with your perfect children…”
He took another step, and this time, when she tried to keep her distance from him, the wall behind her prevented her from getting away. When her back met the wooden surface, she jumped and her startled eyes flew to his. She looked like a wounded animal, with her large, teary eyes, the fright in them, and the way her limbs were slightly trembling. Everything in her was telling her to be cautious, to preserve herself. She was scared, terrified to let go, to compromise her heart, to trust his affection for her.
Unable to resist, affected by her dismay, he lifted a hand to her face and brushed a tear away with his thumb. The gesture was enough to appease her, and something turned soft in her dark irises. His heart ached when she closed her eyes and pressed her face inside his palm. The worries she’d voiced had probably been on her mind for a while now. The distance she’d maintained between them hadn’t been because she wanted to stay away from him, but because she was fearful of all the suffering she might be subjected to. It angered and tormented him to imagine her with another man, marrying him, sharing his bed, having his children… It only made sense that she would feel the same way.
But where she was wrong was that there was only one woman in this world Aiden could imagine spending the rest of his life with. Now that he’d known Amalia, he would never settle for anything less than the force of nature she was. Everything about her was unique, and any other woman would feel remarkably bland compared to the one before him. An entire life by her side would never have a dull moment. Of that, he was certain.
“I will never leave you,” he promised, reaching for her soft cheek again.
“Of course you will,” she argued in a trembling voice. Adamant to flee again, she ripped her cheek away from his palm. “We cannot… It can’t work. We are literal opposites of a very long, very unforgiving social ladder. Aiden, we couldn’t be more ill-suited for one another.”
“We will make it work.”
He would do anything in his power to make it work. He wanted her, had to have her, needed her… If he had to climb down that ladder, he would. If she had to climb up, he’d help her. But in the end, she had to become his.
She was struggling to find another argument, another pertinent reason as to why this wasn’t possible. So Aiden decided action would be his best defense. Before she could expect it, he slipped a hand on her nape, enjoying the way her hair felt under his palm, and pulled her face to his, bending toward her intently.
This time, no one would come to interrupt them. This time, he’d kiss her, the woman he longed for, the woman he loved.
This chapter’s piece is Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K. 467, by Mozart . It’s Aiden’s instrument, the piano, and it’s fragile, hopeful, and romantic all at once.
【14】Broken Dam
Piano Sonata No. 17, Op. 31/2 “Tempest” III. Allegretto, by Ludwig Van Beethoven
A surge of so many emotions flooded Amalia. Feelings, hundreds of them, so strong they were paralyzing her. She forgot how to breathe, how to speak, how to think… Frozen where she stood, she stared into his cerulean eyes, dumbfounded by what she could read in them.
He loved her. Aiden loved her.
The knowledge made her heart race, her chest expand, her limbs weak… She couldn’t believe it. How was it possible?
He, this perfect man who could have anyone in a five-hundred-mile radius, this man who was educated, smart, caring, and humorous, loved her . Pure delight and euphoria coursed through her veins with an intensity she’d never experienced before. She was the woman his heart had chosen.
Her blissful high didn’t last long, and everything suddenly became a curse when she remembered it could never lead to anything. This, being loved by him, could only bring pain and suffering. Despite how well they got along, they weren’t compatible in the slightest. Her people were despised throughout Europe, and he was to become a duke. It was appalling to imagine anything between them.
Aiden’s life had been determined before he’d even been conceived. He would marry a woman as elegant and sophisticated as his mother. They would have little lords and ladies. Eventually, he would inherit his father’s dukedom, and he would spend the rest of his life attending mundane events, surrounded by the wealthiest and most prominent people in the country. Nothing would allow him to change this course, and they both knew that. It was in his blood. It was how things were supposed to be.
And she reminded him of that. She reminded him how his future didn’t allow her any space in it, how she didn’t belong with him. Not now, not ever. But no matter how hard she tried to tell him all this, he didn’t want to listen. When he promised that he’d never leave her, her heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Of course he’d leave her. He would have to abandon everything for her, and she couldn’t bear the idea of ripping him away from his destiny.
With everything she had, she tried to escape him, physically and emotionally. But he didn’t allow her to keep the distance she so desperately needed, cornering her with her back to a wall, feeding more sweet promises to her foolish emotions. He, who had always respected her autonomy and her wishes, wouldn’t let her win this time. It was as though he knew just how close she was to breaking down, to giving in. Like he knew what she wanted the most, even if it was deeply hidden in her heart.
“We cannot… It can’t work. We are literal opposites of a very long, very unforgiving social ladder. Aiden, we couldn’t be more ill-suited for one another,” she pleaded, hoping that he would hear reason before all that was left of her heart were fragments of broken dreams and hopes.
“We will make it work.”
Every time he insisted, it tore her a little more inside. The pressure on her chest was intensifying to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She tried to come up with something else, an irrefutable argument that he would have to accept. But she couldn’t think with him so close, his scent filling her nostrils, his heat lingering between them.
She glanced up to meet his gorgeous eyes, and surprise overtook her when he grabbed her, pulling her toward him. Before she could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing her, instantly making her forget everything that wasn’t him.
The second their lips touched, a shiver ran through her entire body, so strong that, had her lungs been working, her breath would have caught in her throat.
Finally, it was happening. She was kissing Aiden at last. Or rather, he was kissing her, but who was doing it held no importance. All that mattered was that their mouths were inexorably pressed together.
She could feel his warm palm and callused fingers on her neck, holding her against him. His lips, unexpectedly soft and warm, molding her own with boldness. Her chest was pressed against his, the delicate skin of her overflowing breasts grazing the fine material of his formal suit, the buttons teasing her delightfully.
Waves of heat flowed through her over and over, warming her skin. Seconds into their kiss, she was feeling hot, as if she was burning from the inside. It felt like so much, and yet not enough. Wanting more, she tilted her head to the side, so they would be angled better. And when she heard a low growl roll from deep within his chest, she desperately wanted to tear another one from him, to hear this sound of utter desire and passion again. Aiden’s free hand was suddenly at her waist, and he brought her closer to him, eager to have their bodies pressed together.
So this was what kissing felt like. This amazing sensation, this sense of belonging, this need to get more, to get everything… Why weren’t people kissing more? How could they even keep on with their lives, when they could spend their days, weeks, doing this? Drawing more of this soft pleasure, more of this sweet, delightful deed.
The intimacy of their embrace, his muscular body against hers, awoke the need between her legs, and a slight moan escaped her lips. She wanted so much more.
He kept one hand on her waist as the other left her neck. With a delicate touch of his thumb, he followed the line of her jaw, stopping when it reached her chin. Gently, he tried to push it down, to make her open her jaw, but his attempts confused her, so she clenched it instead.
“No. Open for me, Amalia,” he whispered, sending a shiver down her spine. She would never get tired of hearing her name pour out of his sensuous lips.
He kissed her again, and this time, when he tried to get her to open her mouth, she hesitantly obeyed. He knew what he was doing, so maybe she should trust him.
The unmistakable wet touch of his tongue over her lip was so unexpected that she jumped slightly, taken aback. Was this truly a part of kissing? She’d only ever witnessed a few couples kissing here and there, but she couldn’t remember any tongue involved. To be honest, she never stared when she caught lovers lost into an inappropriate embrace such as this, so it made sense she wouldn’t have noticed.
She was about to ask if it was normal when he slipped his tongue further into her mouth until it met hers. The sensation it triggered was so good she had her answer. This was more than normal. This was everything. However, somewhere in her mind, she realized that something this exhilarating ought to be a sin. The intensity of the shock it spread tempted her to push him away.
He renewed the gesture, and the pleasure it brought made her let go of her worries. If it was indeed sinful, it was worth burning in the flames of hell for. Her fingers clenched his jacket, and she pulled him closer. When he did it again, she was ready for it, and a plaintive sound passed her lips, demanding more. She tilted her head more and opened her mouth wider, wanting everything he would give her. Needy, she even went further and tried to taste him too, sending her tongue in his mouth. The motion was so deliciously foreign yet instinctive.
The longer they kissed, the more Amalia wanted. Aiden was proving to be a patient teacher, indulging her clumsy attempts at passion, letting her understand how it was done. She could have done this forever – savoring him, pressing herself against him, tangling her fingers in his soft hair, drawing grunts from him while he made her moan, yearning for more…
An electric jolt struck her gut when he vigorously grabbed her behind with both hands and pressed her front against his. The part of her that had been growing impatient and kept pulsating was now pressed against a hardness on the front of his trousers. It helped release some of the tension in her center, but it was still not enough.
When she understood what it was she so fervently pressed herself against, a burst of heat struck her, and it felt as though a flame licked the spot between her legs. This was his manhood, and its firmness was the evidence of his desire for her. It felt both wrong and right to have their bodies so intimately pressed together. But no matter how improper it might seem, she wouldn’t pull away from it. It was far too enjoyable to deny herself this pleasure.
It wasn’t as if she could step away from it, even if she wanted to. He had her squeezed between his powerful body and the wall, which she was thankful for. Her legs were unstable beneath her, weak and trembling, and had there not been the wall, she might have collapsed to the wooden floor into a puddle of want and need.
Her head was spinning, probably because she could barely breathe. The tight corset was preventing her from filling her lungs fully, and the swelling of her chest, from all the sensations and emotions, took the little room left in her ribcage. As though he could sense her distress, Aiden let go of her mouth and moved to devour the skin of her neck. While she focused on inhaling the air she needed, he kissed her chest, nibbled gently at her flesh, licked a fiery path along her collarbones…
When he kissed her again, she’d had enough air so that her dizziness wasn’t as intense. But it was now clear to her that her short breath wasn’t the main reason for the whirling sensations. He was the one causing it, with his delectable mouth and sinful tongue. His hands coursed her curves, and when they both grabbed and fondled her breasts, she almost lost whatever sanity she had left. The feeling of his warm palms on her, right there, was echoing in her center, the flesh quivering intently.
Then came a tug on the low cleavage of her dress, and she understood too late what he was doing. In a split second, he’d freed one of her breasts. Surely she should have protested. He was demanding too much, taking too many liberties. But she couldn’t form sentences. She tried to hide her exposed mound, but he bent and took the perky tip in his mouth. A shaky cry escaped her, the feeling of his tongue, teeth, and lips being too excruciatingly good for her to bear.
Before she could stop him, he exposed her in the same way on the other side. He went back and forth, nibbling, sucking, and licking both tips. The shivers of pure lust kept ending between her thighs at a steady flow. The need there was becoming intolerable. Pressing herself against his hardness wasn’t enough anymore.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, or maybe she’d expressed them, Aiden grabbed handfuls of her skirts and pulled them up until he could send a hand underneath. He touched the sensitive skin inside her upper thigh, and she clung to him with anguish.
He took his time, reaching higher, and she thought she might lose her mind from the agonizing anticipation.
“Please,” she begged with a whimper, forgetting about pride or modesty.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his warm breath caressing the shell of her ear.
“Yes! Please, Aiden… Touch me.”
She desperately wanted his hand on her, to appease the tension, to satisfy that need she couldn’t comprehend. She would implode if he didn’t do something about it.
Hopefully, he knew how to take care of this need he’d awoken in her, and would help her reach whatever it was she sought.
When their lips touched, the world stopped on its axis as a shiver ran up Aiden’s spine.
Not daring to move a muscle, he waited, half expecting her to push him away. But just like him, she remained absolutely still. He didn’t know if it was from shock or consent, but she didn’t fight him. When she finally moved, it was to adjust the angle of their faces, to kiss him more thoroughly. It was all the confirmation he needed, and he let out a grunt of relief. With his other hand, he grabbed her waist to pull her closer to him.
She released a soft moan when he pressed her body against his. It was the purest sound, even more heavenly than the ones she conjured with her violin. In his chest, Aiden could feel his heart racing, its beat chaotic and intense. It felt as if it was about to explode inside him, breaking one of his weakened ribs in the process. His hand trailed from her neck to her jaw, and with his thumb on her chin, he tried to encourage her to open her mouth. When she clenched her teeth to oppose his attempt, he understood she had no experience.
“No,” he murmured, letting go of her lips for a second. “Open for me, Amalia…”
He kissed her again, and she allowed him. She hesitated, but when he stroked her jaw gently, she opened her mouth, just a little.
Before she could change her mind, he caressed her lips with his tongue, encouraging her to open wider. He ought to taste her. His sanity depended on it. Her first reaction was to recoil, but he kept her close, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he slid his tongue further inside, then backed down, not to press her too fast. She gasped and placed her hands on his shoulders to push him away. When he slipped his tongue in again, she let out a moan, and her hands fisted his vest instead, pulling him closer.
Bending her head on the side, she opened her mouth more and lifted herself as high as she could to kiss him harder. When Aiden felt her tongue timidly caressing his, he almost lost his mind. With a groan, he intensified their kiss, and she let out a sensual sigh.
He wanted this moment to last forever. If he could, he’d stop time to make everything and everyone outside of this room disappear so they could stay like this for all of eternity. Nothing was enough, and he wanted more hands to feel her with. He wanted more of her in every possible way. Weeks of contained passion were unleashing at once, and he was worried he would never have enough of her. She was perfect in every way, and she had to be his for the rest of their lives.
When she hooked her arms around his neck looking for stability, it became clear she had become intoxicated by passion – just as much as he was. With a moan, he grabbed her bottom with both his hands and pressed her against his erection. She sighed and adjusted her hips to feel him better.
The kiss became wilder as Aiden was unable to control himself. He didn’t want to. Her enthusiasm was touching and arousing at the same time. She was letting her instincts take over, and he was constantly reminded that all this was new to her. Their teeth kept clashing from her eagerness, and he tried to soothe her subtly. She could have whatever she wanted. There was no need to rush. At some point, she bit his lower lip, as he’d done to her moments before, just a little too hard. But the slight pain she inflicted was unexpectedly arousing.
Thanks to the wall behind her, he didn’t have to take care of their balance. All he needed to do, really, was to press himself against her, to pin her against it, which he was more than happy to do. Leaving her mouth, he kissed her neck, licked, nibbled… He wanted to sample every inch of her body, to know her taste so well he would still remember it in days, weeks.
Since her mouth was free, he could now hear the moans and sighs she let out. It made him crazy, the strain of his raging erection becoming hard to bear. With his lips, he went down to her shoulder, enjoying how flawless and smooth her tan skin was. When the edge of her dress stopped his course, he followed her collarbone with his tongue. He mirrored his attention to the other side, and when he was out of warm skin to explore, he kissed her again.
She passionately welcomed his lips, her heated sigh landing in his mouth. Aiden’s hands kept going back and forth on her luscious curves. He grabbed her breasts and pushed them together. Suddenly, it became vital for him to know what the perky buds looked like. Their size, their color…
Adamant to discover the answer, he slid two fingers under her corsage and pulled it down, freeing a nipple. Ripping himself from her lips was torture, but it was a price he was willing to pay to satisfy his curiosity. So he moved back and glanced down to admire the tip he’d just exposed. He cursed the poor lighting of the room, preventing him from seeing its exact shade and shape. But he would get many other opportunities to discover her, with better lighting and more time, to enjoy her properly.
In a show of modesty, she tried to hide herself, but before she could, he bent down and took the small bud in his mouth. She gasped but didn’t try to push him away. In fact, she slid her fingers into his hair and pressed him closer. He freed the other nipple, and his mouth went to it. Like a crazed man who couldn’t get enough, he went back and forth, licking, biting, sucking, until she ground her hips against him, unable to contain her desire.
His arousal was officially painful, his length so hard it pulsed with the need to penetrate, to find release, to explode in her. He longed to enter her, to breach her intimacy and know bliss in her arms. Never had he wanted a woman to this extent. Sex with Amalia would be greater than anything he’d ever done before.
Love.
Making love with Amalia would be greater than anything else.
Because yes, he wanted to make love to her, over and over again. He wanted to be hers, while she would be his.
Letting go of her amazing breast, he moved up to ravish her plump lips again. With determined hands, he pulled up her skirts, battling with the red fabric of the dress that had driven him mad. He needed to touch her, to discover her heat, to feel her wetness. More than anything, he longed to know what sounds she made when she came. He had to witness what she looked like in ecstasy, the way bliss hit her.
He slipped a hand under the layers of her skirts, and she shivered when he touched her skin, right over the edge of her stockings. Slowly, giving her all the time she might need to push him away if she wanted to, he moved his hand up, grazing the inside of her thigh. When the back of his thumb reached her curls, he barely brushed them.
Unmoving, he stayed like this, on the verge of her intimacy, waiting for her to approve, to consent.
“Please,” she sobbed.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice hoarse and warm.
“Yes! Please, Aiden… Touch me.”
Her state of pure abandonment undid him. There were no walls left. She was bare for him to see, to know. All of her barriers were down, and she wasn’t hiding anything anymore. With feverish intensity, she wanted him to touch her.
He was about to comply, happily, when the door opened behind him.
“Graham!” said the intruder. Aiden’s hand instantly whipped away from under her skirts. “They sent me to get you. They are about to start the—” The man stopped talking, understanding what he had interrupted.
As he swiftly turned around to meet the eyes of their interrupter, a young lord he was familiar with, Aiden cursed himself for not thinking of locking the door. And when he saw the libidinous glance the man gave Amalia, his blood boiled in his veins.
I was wondering, do you guys listen to the songs I attach to each chapter? Not the whole thing, necessarily, but do you give it a quick check?
Anyhow, you guys are getting some Piano Sonata No. 17, Op. 31/2 “Tempest” III. Allegretto, by
Beethoven
. It’s intense, has a lovely melody, and darker moments, but also hope, somehow?
【15】Scared away
Stabat Mater, P.77: 1. “Stabat Mater Dolorosa”, by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi
Aiden tried to assess the situation the best he could, having a hard time processing all the thoughts that wreaked havoc in his mind.
As soon as the door had opened, he had let go of Amalia. And with his body, he was still hiding her while she adjusted the cleavage of her dress. Despite the dim lighting of the room, their proximity and disheveled states left no doubts as to what had happened here. With the concupiscent way the intruder was looking at them, Aiden worried Clifford had seen more of her than he was comfortable with.
The man was a known libertine, and such men usually knew how to keep that sort of secret. Rakes had to look out for one another. Nevertheless, Aiden couldn’t be certain that his moment with Amalia wouldn’t be made public.
She was done fixing her decolletage when a concupiscent look formed on the man’s face. “The others and I have been wondering why you were so protective of this bohemian girl the entire evening. Now I get it. You wanted to take your turn with her before any of us did! I understand, my friend. If that’s fine with you, I’ll go second. Just like you, I dislike coming after everyo—”
Aiden didn’t let him finish his loathsome comments. In three strides, he was by Clifford’s side. He grabbed him by the collar, brutally shoving him into the wall.
“You will hold your bloody tongue, Clifford! I won’t let you disrespect the lady,” he threatened, his voice so low it resembled a growl.
“The lady ? This is a bohemian whore! She would spread her legs for a few pennies!”
Seeing red, Aiden squeezed harder around his throat, suffocating him. He would make him regret his words, despising the idea of Amalia’s honor being so loathsomely degraded. As if he’d conjured her presence, she was suddenly by his side, her hand soothingly wrapping around his forearm.
“Let go of him, Aiden,” she implored him. “He isn’t worth it.”
Although he heard the words, he ignored them. This cockroach had to pay for his offenses. Clifford tried to talk, but Aiden pressed even harder, refusing to hear whatever he wanted to utter. The maggot’s face turned blue, but it still wasn’t enough to force Aiden to let go. By his side, Amalia insisted, trying to pull his arm away. With a calming voice, she kept talking to him, and Aiden’s rage decreased slowly. Eventually, he loosened his grip, allowing the man to breathe again.
“You will apologize to her,” Aiden ordered, bringing the man closer to his face. “And you will thank her for saving you from my wrath.” Clifford nodded energetically, croaking his agreement. Aiden let go of him after shoving him harshly against the wall one last time.
The man coughed a few times, massaging his sore throat with one hand while leaning on the wall with the other. After a moment of struggling to inhale, he turned to Amalia, avoiding her eyes.
“I’m sorry for my impertinence. My rude remarks were unacceptable,” he compliantly told her, his voice uneven. He was seemingly done, so Aiden grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and strongly fisted the fabric, making the seams tear. “And also thank you,” he added hastily, “for… saving my life.”
Before he could change his mind and decided that Clifford deserved a stronger punishment, Aiden dragged him to the door and shoved him out before slamming it behind him. This time, he took the time to secure it, turning the key in its lock.
When he turned around, he took a moment to look at Amalia. His rage resurfaced when he saw what Clifford had witnessed. No one, absolutely no one but Aiden, should ever be graced with such a vision of her.
She was breathtaking.
Still flustered from the kiss, her lips were red and swollen, even plumper than usual. Her eyes were sparkling with arousal and desire, and her cheeks were an erotic shade of pink. She almost looked feverous, but the heat in her face was solely due to their passionate embrace. Her cleavage was deeper than before, as she’d poorly rearranged her dress in her haste to hide herself from Clifford. She was the embodiment of temptation.
Such a sight was heavenly, and the fact that the moron out there has witnessed it enraged Aiden. No other man should ever have this privilege. Damn it! He wanted to go out, grab Clifford, and beat him to a pulp for having seen her like this.
Amalia twisted her fingers in front of her, visibly mortified. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like her, but Aiden had to admit that he wasn’t sure what could be expressed in this uncomfortable situation.
“I should go back downstairs,” she eventually decided with a small voice. Aiden was about to argue that they should talk first when she changed her mind. “Actually, I should leave altogether.”
“Amalia—”
“Please, I cannot stay. I have to go.”
“At least let me accompany you to fetch your things,” he urged. She wordlessly nodded, her eyes favoring the wall by her side rather than his gaze.
The walk to the yellow parlor was a silent one. Neither one of them knew what to say nor how to say it. Aiden was desperately trying to find the words that would make her change her mind. The words that would make her stay. He refused to pretend he was sorry for what had happened because he wasn’t and would never be. However, he needed her to stay. They couldn’t leave things like this.
They reached the room too quickly for him to have come up with something. Helplessly, he watched her gather her belongings. Once she was done, Aiden still had no idea what he could say. Not only had her honor been tainted by the ordeal, but she’d also gotten the proof of what she’d argued. Clifford’s despicable reaction had confirmed how different and poorly suited they were. To his peer, a future duke and a bohemian didn’t belong together, aside from a quick, paid fuck against a wall.
When Amalia was done collecting her things, her expression was one of pain and sadness. As she was about to go for the door, Aiden finally decided to speak up.
“Amalia, we need to talk,” he tried. She stopped in her tracks, and with a sigh, she put her bag down, ready to listen to him. “Please, I don’t want this to change anything between us. If I cannot have you like that, let us remain friends. The idea of never seeing you again is unbearable for me.”
“You want us to pretend nothing happened?” He nodded, full of hopes, and she frowned. “I don’t know if I can do this. This, us , it’s getting complicated. I can’t—”
“If it helps, we can say it was the alcohol,” he ventured.
“But was it?”
“I’m not sure I would have told you everything I did, otherwise. I probably would have still kissed you, though.”
“But wouldn’t you have felt the same, anyway?”
Aiden didn’t answer. He knew she was right, of course. “I will never forgive myself if I lost your friendship because of this. Amalia, please, come back again.”
She hesitated for the longest time, her mind trying to foresee what could happen, what she would miss, what she would risk… Raising her hands, she counted something on her fingers, her mouth muttering silent numbers. Aiden’s heart tightened as he thought she was counting the earnings she would miss. He’d hoped they were past this by now.
“There are ten days left before the end of August,” she stated. Relief relaxed the knot in his shoulders when he understood she’d been counting the days. “I will come back when your family leaves, and we will have the last days of summer. As per our agreement. Then, you will go back to London.”
“I don’t have to leave right away. I could stay longer.”
“Aiden, please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” she pleaded, her voice close to cracking. He wasn’t the only one suffering here. She, too, was having a hard time handling her emotions.
“Fine. We will have the rest of August, and then I will leave.”
After a few seconds, she nodded, her eyes humid with tears. With a heavy sigh, she took her things again. They walked in silence to the main hall, and then Aiden accompanied her outside. The night was dark, but the half-moon was enough to guide their steps. When they reached the gates, he stopped at the limit of the estate. She stood on the other side of it, hesitantly gazing up at him.
“I will send someone for you as soon as I can,” he promised, hoping his parents wouldn’t decide to stay a day longer than they’d intended.
Amalia nodded and held her bag tighter against her chest. She raised a hand to give him a friendly touch on his arm but changed her mind mid-air.
“Goodbye, Aiden.”
He didn’t like how it sounded, how solemn her voice was. This felt like farewells, like they would never see each other again.
He chose not to say it back, some superstitious part of him thinking it meant he’d have to see her again. With one last unwilling smile, she turned around and walked away. Even long after she’d vanished into the night, he kept staring in her direction. For over half an hour, he remained there, listening to the creatures of the night howling and croaking.
Only when he felt like he could endure it, he walked back to the manor, wishing the evening would end soon. After everything that had just happened, being among these people didn’t feel right. How could they be so festive and joyful when his world had come crumbling down?
Sitting in a chair in a corner of the ballroom, he stared glumly at the couples evolving on the hardwood floors. Being around all those cheering people irritated him.
Except for those few minutes of bliss in his study, this whole evening had been a disaster. As a footman passed near him with a tray, Aiden grabbed a glass of champagne and sipped on it, waiting for the gathering to end. He watched the room, looked at the dancers, observed his family…
His sisters were having fun and dancing, his mother was proving once more to be the most perfect hostess, and his father was mingling. At least the other Langstons were having a great time.
He signaled a footman to bring him another glass, and his gesture attracted the attention of his sister. Annabelle was the oldest of his siblings, almost three years younger than him. With her eyes still on him, she exchanged a few words with her friends and left them to walk in his direction. Aiden sighed, anticipating he’d have to explain his glum mood.
He tried his best to hide it, knowing his sister wouldn’t be so easily fooled. She sat down next to him and stretched her legs in front of her, resting her sore feet.
“The entertainment you brought was a great success,” she told him. “Everyone keeps talking about her. But somehow, no one seems to know where to find her.”
“She left.”
“What did you do to her?”
The unfairness of her accusation revolted Aiden, as well as the judgment in her tone. “Why on earth would I be the one to have done something to her?”
“Because I saw the way you looked at her, and I know you can be very persuasive with women.”
“I never force anyone, Annie. Stop making it sound like I’m some kind of tyrant.”
“Nevertheless,” she continued, with a haughty expression, “You made the entertainment go, and over half of the guests, including me, didn’t get the chance to have a reading.”
“She wasn’t really a medium, anyway.”
Upon hearing his mumble, his sister smiled as if she just understood something. “So I take it she wasn’t really here to propose her services the other day?” Aiden didn’t even bother responding with a lie. “She is beautiful. I understand why you and she would—”
“It isn’t like that. She isn’t like that. We haven’t— Wait, you are too young to be talking about such things!”
His sister laughed and laid her temple on his shoulder. “I missed you, idiot. I’m so glad we aren’t returning to London in the end.”
Aiden jumped in his chair, startling Annabelle. “What do you mean you aren’t going back to London?”
“Father decided we wouldn’t suffer four days of travel when the Season is so nearly over.”
“But you cannot stay here!”
His objection seemed to offend her. “I thought you would be happy to know you wouldn’t be left alone again. I guess I was wrong.”
Mumbling an apology, Aiden tried to think of a solution. If his family were to stay here, how could he see Amalia for the few days they had left? Still vexed, Annabelle went back to her friends, sulking, while Aiden racked his brain to find a solution.
After what had happened, he couldn’t go to her camp. She couldn’t come here either. Maybe somewhere near here, on the estate, where they wouldn’t be disturbed. His first thought was the lake. It was large enough, and an entire section couldn’t be seen from the house, hidden by trees.
It could also be a great opportunity to settle a matter they had going on.
One afternoon, they had argued about the best way to catch fish. She insisted one had to throw the line afar, and fish the first four feet of water, while Aiden maintained it was best to fish vertically near the boat in deeper waters. The argument had grown a little heated, to the point where she’d betted on it with her life, refusing to be wrong about this matter. Ever since, he had wanted to take her on her bet, prove her wrong, and then mercifully spare her life. If the weather allowed it, it would be the perfect opportunity.
The boathouse, where they kept rowboats and various tools, was on the hidden side of the lake, so they could manage not to be discovered. Still, they would have to be discrete. Satisfied with this plan, Aiden sat back and spent the rest of the evening in a slightly better mood.
They would still have a few moments together before their unavoidable separation. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to make her change her mind.
God, he hoped it would. He wished it with the entirety of his enamored heart.
A sad piece, with melancholia, longing, and stuff, and somehow Jesus dying on the Youtube video. Not sure there’s a reason for that. Stabat Mater, P.77: 1. “Stabat Mater Dolorosa”, by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi .
【16】Silent Tears
Cello Concerto No.1 in G major: II Romance: Andantino, by Carl Stamitz
Amalia was so preoccupied, she barely registered the walk back to her camp. Not even the cold air on her skin was enough to pull her out of her thoughts, nor was the darkness of the night or the noises surrounding her. She was numb with melancholy, her heart aching from it.
Aiden loved her, and as incredible as it felt, it hurt even more.
With the way she was hurting now, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She loved him too. But it only made things worse. They couldn’t be together, at least not the way she wanted. Yes, they could consume their passion, experience blissful moments together, but she would never be his, and he would never be hers. Life would make sure of that.
She would never belong to his world, and he could never adapt to hers. Regardless of that, he surely wouldn’t leave his. They were born too different to have a chance.
Silent tears rolled on her cheeks, the knot in her throat so heavy it was painful. She was glad to be walking alone, as she didn’t want anyone to witness the depth of her desperation. It was unbearable to know she loved a man who could never be hers, but it was also terrible to think of Aiden, who loved a woman he could never have.
Why did they have to fall in love? Things would have been much simpler had they remained friends, liking each other without this imperious need to have more. It could have only been about music and pastries, and their hearts could have been spared from all this.
As she thought about it, she realized that no matter what, she’d never had a chance to get out of this unharmed.
Aiden was too charming, humorous, thoughtful, handsome, talented, kind… From the very start, she was bound to fall in love with him, even if she’d tried not to with all her strength. She’d never met anyone like him. The memory of Aiden would tarnish her perception of every other man for the rest of her life.
In fifty years, she would still think of this wonderful summer, by the side of an even more wonderful man.
A new flow of tears dampened her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Love was turning out to be a tyrannical emotion that disregarded all common sense. She didn’t want to feel like this, but she had no choice. She would have to suffer through it and learn to get over it. In the meantime, since she didn’t have long left with Aiden, she would cherish each second of every remaining minute.
As she walked, images of what had happened tonight flooded her mind. She spent the rest of the way haunted by the memory of their kiss.
It had been so amazing, so ridiculously amazing, that she had ended up begging him to touch her. In the heat of the moment, it sounded like the most natural thing. She hadn’t taken the time to think about it. More than anything, she’d craved to have his hand on her, down there, to take care of that impetuous need.
Having someone walk in had been mortifying just as much as it had been frustrating. But now that some time had passed, and her desire for Aiden’s touch had faded, she realized it might have been a blessing in disguise. Their situation was already terrible as it was, and she couldn’t imagine how she would feel had they gone further. There was no going back from that, from allowing him to caress her like that, from wanting it so desperately.
However, a small part of her kept wondering what it would have been like. His large hand on her, touching her there …
Although she had never been intimate with a man, she knew from what she had gathered that the pleasures of the flesh could surpass any other. From what she had experienced with Aiden, she had to admit that it was entirely unique. She had felt feverish, weak, and starving for something – feelings that weren’t supposed to feel so good. It didn’t make sense that she’d enjoyed them so much, that she’d give anything to experience them again. Had Clifford not interrupted them, she would probably still be in Aiden’s arms, begging for more.
By the time she reached the camp, she was out of tears, but she didn’t doubt that her eyes were red, her nose swollen, and her face flushed. With some luck, her sisters would be sleeping, so she’d sneak into the caravan and go to her bed right away, avoiding their questions.
The camp was quiet, and Amalia realized she had no idea of the hour. Given how deserted the place was, it must have been later than she’d thought. But she hadn’t left the manor that late. She must have walked awfully slowly on her way here.
Passing her hand one last time over her cheeks, she took a deep breath before marching forward. Sleep would do her good, and tomorrow she would be able to think with a cooler head. She had almost reached her caravan when a familiar voice coming from her left startled her.
“How was it?”
Amalia turned with a jump, pressing her hand on her chest in an attempt to contain the tumultuous beats of her heart. Her aunt was right there, leaning against a caravan, quietly smoking her pipe.
“Ingrid! You scared me!” she scolded, trying not to raise her voice. Her aunt didn’t apologize, coming closer instead.
“How did you perform? Were they fooled?”
“They were.”
“I’m not surprised. They really like it when we wear bright dresses and too many jewels. They find it authentic and imagine it’s what a good diviner is supposed to look like.”
Amalia smiled, remembering how the duchess had, indeed, claimed she looked ‘very authentic.’
“So, how much money did you make?” Ingrid asked, curious.
“About fifteen pounds.”
Her aunt’s eyes widened at the sum. It was an enormous amount of money for such a quick job.
“Hide twelve pounds with the rest, in your hiding spot, and tell your parents it was only three. They’ll never know the difference.”
At the mention of the secret spot she used for her money, Amalia tensed. She’d been gathering all the coins she’d made this summer in a hidden compartment in an old jewelry box she had. She had no idea how her aunt knew about it, but everything would be lost if she ever told her parents.
Ingrid noticed her discomfort and smiled gently. “I was looking for a pair of earrings Francine borrowed when I found it. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Amalia sighed in relief, suddenly remembering why Ingrid was her favorite aunt.
“What are you planning to do with it?”
Amalia wasn’t sure she could trust her enough to keep such a secret. Her people didn’t leave and start anew. It was severely frowned upon. Even if she was so very open-minded, she might not understand.
“It is just for rainy days,” she lied.
“Have you been crying?”
“I’ve… Yes. But I’m good.”
“What happened? Did someone hurt you at the manor?”
Her aunt seemed ready to break someone’s nose. She didn’t have children of her own – two died during infancy, and one at four years old. So she had raised Amalia and her siblings like her own. If she thought anyone had harmed her during the evening, she might go all the way to the manor and cause a scandal.
“It’s complicated, but I wasn’t hurt,” Amalia explained, hoping it would be enough.
Her aunt was way too perceptive. When Ingrid gave her a compassionate smile, Amalia knew she’d understood the truth. “I see. It’s that kind of ache.”
Her aunt had lived through enough heartbreaks to know exactly what was going on with her. Ingrid gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
“Is he even worth your tears, Ama?”
Amalia didn’t even need half a second to utter the answer. “He is worth all the tears in the world.”
Trying to delay the moment she would see him again, Amalia was purposefully walking slowly. It had been six days since they had last seen one another, and she worried about the way she needed to act around him.
Since the party, she had thought about him constantly. She couldn’t concentrate, was moony, and barely had an appetite. Ever since their kiss, she’d woken up in the middle of the night, her entire body sensitive and hot, having dreamt of him, of his hands and lips on her, on her breasts. Frustrated, she had tried to relive those sensations. She’d touched, pinched, and fondled her breasts, hoping to experience again the sensations he had ignited, but it was nothing like the raw pleasure he’d given her.
By now, she had accepted the fact that they only had a few days left. As terrible as it was, the sooner they were separated, the better it would be for her aching heart. Like ripping off a bandage at once. It would hurt like nothing else, but from there, it would only get better.
Chasing away her thoughts, she lifted her eyes. She was almost there, and she could see the gates. Her brows furrowed when she noticed someone nonchalantly leaning on one of the pillars.
It was Aiden, of course.
There she was, trying to defer their encounter, and he was impatiently looking forward to it.
For the thousandth time, she thought of what he had told her. Aiden Langston, the most impressive man she’d ever met, dashing in every way, talented, funny, and irresistible, loved her. And of course, because it was impossible for her not to, she loved him in return.
As she approached, her cheeks warmed up. God, she felt like some nitwit, unable to contain her feelings. Because, yes, she had to contain them. She had meant what she’d told him. There had been enough damage as it was, and she wouldn’t let her heart be any more compromised. It would already take months, if not years, for her to get over him.
Once she reached him, he moved away from the pillar and greeted her with a large smile. He didn’t make any move to touch her, and she felt relieved. He was keeping his word and was treating her like a friend. Because that was what they were, after all.
“I’m glad to see that you received my note,” he told her.
He had sent a note the day before that his valet in disguise had delivered. He’d written to her that the gathering had ended so they could see each other again. They had four more days. After that, all of this would be over, and he would leave for London. As he’d travel down south, she would stay behind and try to resume her life as if nothing had happened.
“I’m afraid that my family has had a change of heart and isn’t leaving anymore. So I thought we could take a stroll in the park.”
Surprised by this information, Amalia nodded wordlessly before looking up at the blue sky.
Since they were to stay outside, they were lucky to have such good weather. In all truth, a walk with him sounded lovely. Like a gentleman, he offered his arm; but she hesitated. Every time she got too close to this man, she let her guard down, and her resolutions melted like snow in the sun. Four days. She only had to resist him for four more days. She could do it.
Dismissing her concerns, she took his arm. He led them around, at a slow pace, telling her anecdotes about the property, giving her the names of some plants, and showing her various spots he used to enjoy during his illicit outings as a child.
It was lovely to be with him like this. The estate was beautiful, the sun was warm, Aiden was charming… She was enjoying their proximity. Her heart was open, and she did her best to imprint this moment into her mind, every little detail, so she could relive it once he was gone.
Shaking her head, she chased those thoughts out of it. There was no point in thinking of his upcoming departure. She’d rather enjoy the present instead. Despite her best efforts, silent tears would sometimes trail down her cheek. She erased all traces of them before he could notice.
They approached a clearing, and she understood they had reached the lake. Through the trees, she could see the reflection of the sun on its surface.
“Did I ever tell you that the lake is full of fish?” he asked, curious. His random question had her chuckling.
“Yes, you did, at least twice.”
“Oh, right! I remember now. Then you admitted to using the wrong method for fishing.”
An irresistible smile stretched her lips as she rolled her eyes. Not this again! “I don’t remember ever saying such a ludicrous thing. However, I recall insisting you were an idiot if you fished so close to the boat.”
“Ah yes, the foolishness of youth… You were so sure to have the best technique.”
She hit his side with her elbow. “I’m still sure I do,” she answered, willingly playing along with his teasing.
They exited the woods and arrived on the lake’s bank, where a boat and fishing gear waited for them. “Would you be interested in finally settling that bet to prove the superiority of your ways?” he asked, very proud of his timing.
After she’d offered him an incredulous grin, she went to look at what had been prepared. There was a blanket, a sunshade, and even a basket full of treats.
“If I were to accept, what would be the forfeit?” she asked, suspicious.
“I was thinking the loser has to proclaim the winner ‘the greatest fisherman – or woman – who ever lived’.”
Pretending to be shocked, she put her hand over her chest in a dramatic manner. “That is a very high price to ask!”
“I know… Although, only someone who already knows they will lose would worry about it,” he gravely pointed out. “Would you like to surrender, to be spared the humiliation of such a price?”
“Absolutely not. I would never miss my chance to be crowned the greatest fisherwoman who ever lived.”
Ignoring his confident smirk, she focused on picking which fishing rod she wanted. There was no way she’d let this man, who’d lived a life of idleness, beat her at this.
Who’s winning that bet?
This chapter’s song is romantic, sad, longing… Cello Concerto No.1 in G major: II Romance: Andantino, by Carl Stamitz . I adore the cello, and it was almost the instrument Amalia and Aiden shared, but I went with the violin instead, for logistic reasons. I couldn’t see Amalia coming every day with her massive instrument. The soloist in the video down there is so full of emotions as she plays, it’s incredible to see!
【17】Sore Loser
Keyboard Concerto in G Major, Wq. 44: II. Andantino, by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach
It was impossible for Amalia to hide her bitterness while Aiden carefully got up in the small boat, struggling to preserve his balance. He took a pose with his hands on his hips, sticking out his chest, a shit-eating grin on his face. He looked very pleased with himself, which she disliked a lot.
As unhappy as she was with him, she was having a hard time truly holding a grudge. Realier, he’d removed his tie, jacket, and waistcoat, and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt over his forearms. She rarely saw him in such a state of undressedness, and she quite liked it. He looked less like a mighty lord, and more like a man, made of flesh and bones.
“Come on,” he encouraged, “don’t be a sore loser now. We agreed.”
Amalia nearly glared at him, annoyed to have to concede to him this. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her pride. “You are the greatest fisherman who ever lived.”
His smile became even broader, and he bowed slightly. “I know, thank you.” Amalia couldn’t help but laugh at his cockiness.
Eager to get rid of his pompous expression, she tilted to her right with a sudden move, making the boat lurch dangerously. Hopefully, it would be enough for him to lose his balance. Aiden’s surprised face didn’t disappoint. He lost his footing and tried for a moment to regain it, his arms waving around for her greatest amusement. Quickly, the unsparing sways of the boat got the best of him, and he fell overboard. As he collided with the water with a big splash, Amalia laughed her heart out, moving to the side to see him. She crossed her arms and kneeled on the floor, leaning on the side of the boat.
“How is the water, Milord?” she asked when he surfaced, a wide grin on her face. Aiden brushed his hair back and looked up at her, seemingly very amused by the situation.
“Well, Miss Romero, I have to say it’s colder than what I was expecting,” he admitted, grabbing the edge of the boat on each side of her elbows. Pulling himself up, he made the boat lean further down, bringing his face much closer to hers. She blushed at his sudden proximity but fought the urge to move away. “Maybe you should join me?” With a laugh, she shook her head. “At least help me get back in the boat, then. I’m not sure I can swim to the shore fully dressed.”
He extended his hand, and she looked at it, doubtful. “So you can try to pull me over? I don’t think so…”
He looked insulted for an instant. “It is hurtful that you would think me capable of doing such a thing. But if you are going to take it that way…” He stopped talking and let go of his grip on the boat. To her surprise, he worked on undoing the top of his shirt and passed it over his head with a swift move. His head was submerged for an instant, and once he surfaced again, he was rid of the garment. With a swift gesture, he threw it onto the boat with her.
At the sight he offered, Amalia’s throat became dry.
The water was clear enough so she could see the lines of his upper body. From where she was, she had an excellent view of his strong shoulders. Unable to stop them, her eyes followed the outlines of his collarbones to where they blended at the bottom of his throat. This newly uncovered skin wasn’t as tan as his forearms and neck, but he wasn’t pale like she would have guessed. Did he often walk around in the sun, half-clothed? She noticed freckles on his shoulders and had to fight the urge to touch them.
With one hand, he grabbed the boat, his fingers powerfully anchoring him. The muscles of his arms, rippling under his skin, fascinated Amalia. He struggled for a moment, and he removed a shoe. The noise it made when it fell on the floor of the boat shook her out of her stupor.
“You aren’t seriously undressing because you cannot swim!” she protested as the second shoe fell in.
“I would rather not take any risks and live to see another day.”
Amalia could almost have been fooled, had it not been for that slight smirk he couldn’t completely hold back. If he wanted to play this game, he would lose. She was strong-minded, too. His socks joined the pile, and he paused as if he was analyzing the situation.
“No, it won’t work. I have to remove that too,” he muttered to himself.
Worried she already knew the answer, she felt compelled to ask, “Remove what?”
“My pants are too tight to swim properly. I have to take them off too.” He wasn’t even trying to hold back his grin now, and Amalia sighed, exasperated.
“Fine! Stop undressing! I will help you back in the boat.” She grabbed his soaked shirt and threw it at him. “Put that back on first.” With his undying grin, he slipped his shirt on.
Making sure she was solidly anchored, she extended her arm to him, securing her balance on the floor, ignoring his victorious expression. He happily grabbed her wrist, and she clasped her fingers around his. When she pulled him with all of her strength, he made no effort to help her.
When their gaze crossed, Amalia understood her mistake. But it was too late. “Aiden, don’t you dare!” she warned.
Before she could dissuade him with threats, he pulled on her arms. With everything she had, she tried to fight him. Alas, she was no match for his strength.
She cursed him as she fell, hating herself for letting him fool her. As the cold water entered her dress and submerged her, an idea came to her.
She could play some tricks on him, too.
Aiden was having a great time. Yes, he hadn’t expected things to turn out that way when he’d asked her to come today. For almost a week, he’d thought about them, about what could be and how to make it work. He’d taken some serious decisions, and he wanted today to unfold perfectly, to remind her how great they were together, to show her they belonged with one another.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t disappointed with the way the afternoon was unraveling. He was enjoying messing with her. A lot. The face she had made when he’d pretended he needed to remove his pants. All flustered and confused…
Thank God she hadn’t let him. The water was indeed quite cold, and he didn’t want her to see him naked, for the first time, in this condition. He had a reputation to uphold.
When she had finally yielded, he’d grabbed her wrist firmly, making sure he wouldn’t hurt her. As soon as she realized what he was up to, he didn’t allow her any time to think and tugged at her arm.
He released her the instant she met the water, eager to put some distance between them before her wrath fell upon him. Swimming away, still facing the boat, he laughed at his mischief. For a moment, he waited for her to emerge, but as the seconds passed, worry slid into his mind. Was she purposely holding back under the surface to disturb him? An immense doubt overcame him. He had no idea whether she could swim or not. And even if she could, wouldn’t her skirts get in the way?
Quick as lighting, he swam to the location where she had fallen, trying to spot her under the surface of the water. It was all darkness, the deep waters resembling a hellish limbo. She wasn’t there. He couldn’t see her.
“Amalia!” he shouted.
His heart was pounding, his brain unable to think straight. After he’d called her again, he took a deep breath and dove in. He tried to go as far as he could, looking for her yellow dress. For as long as his lungs allowed him, he remained underwater, swimming deeper, seeking her. But eventually, he had to resurface to breathe.
He took long and heavy breaths, preparing himself to dive again. Just as he was about to, her voice came from behind him.
“I take it you don’t want to come out then!”
He spun around, only to find her sitting on the shore in her damp dress, right under a weeping willow. He felt instant relief, reassured to see she was safe and well. Anger rapidly took over, though. Why on earth would she do such a thing? With a rarely seen rapidity, he swam to her, outraged by her reckless behavior. He reached the shallow part of the shore, and as he walked to her, fending through the water, she stared at him with mischief. She was all smiles and could obviously not imagine what he’d just been through. As soon as he reached her, he exploded.
“What the hell, Amalia!” Her mood switched instantly, and concern overtook her amused expression. “I thought you were drowning! Never scare me like that again!”
“I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you that much!” she pleaded, her voice thin and wavering. “It was barely over a minute!”
Aiden frowned. Had it been this short? It had seemed much longer to him.
“I thought you were dead! I don’t think I have ever been this terrified in my entire life. What were you thinking!”
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry!”
He leaned toward her to grab her shoulders, and she moved back, lifting her arms to cross them in front of her face.
What in the—
His temper shifted instantly as he realized she thought he would hit her. He remembered she had often been subjected to fits of rage and how she’d been physically reprimanded in the past.
This terrible truth made him want to protect and soothe her. “Amalia,” he called, his voice soft and comforting. His hand went to her face. Slowly he touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”
She lowered her arms slowly and looked at him, her dark eyes probing his, searching for the answer. He waited, never breaking the link of their gazes. She needed to know that because it was the truth. Not only did he not harm women, he most certainly would never harm her . She was the most precious thing in his world. He would never hurt her. As she stared at him, trying to read his very soul, he tried to pass all that, all the things she needed to know, the truths that would never change. It must have worked because finally, she nodded before letting her guard down.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he apologized.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. It was so stupid of me. I didn’t think you would panic like that.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I always see you as this strong, confident man, and I never thought you would be so worried.”
“How could I not worry? You are everything to me, Amalia. I don’t know what I—”
He didn’t have time to finish. She grabbed him by the neck and pulled him to her, proceeding to ravish Aiden with a kiss that made him forget everything. The entire world disappeared, and she became the only thing left in it. Just like the first time, his mind imploded with a multitude of feelings and emotions.
Before he could adjust his position or even comprehend what was happening, he felt the warm, silky touch of her tongue trying to pass through the barrier of his lips. Maddened by need, he unlocked his jaw, and she instantly used the opportunity. When their tongues met, he let out a grunt. His hand traveled to her waist to bring her closer while the other one was resting flat on the ground to stabilize them. She tilted her head and tried to bring him closer, her hands fisting the wet hair on the back of his head.
He was perched in an uncomfortable position, half-kneeling over her, and it was complicated to keep their balance, especially when she wasn’t making any efforts in that sense. She was lost in their embrace, trying to kiss him deeper, wanting more. It seemed like she couldn’t get enough of him, and the feeling was mutual. He held her waist more firmly and carefully laid her down, never breaking their kiss.
It was now easier to focus on her, as he was partially laying on her. Following a primal impulse, she bent her knee to lift her thigh against his hip. Given her innocence, he wasn’t even sure she knew what this meant, how she was opening herself for him, granting him an access she wasn’t aware of. He tried his best to hold back, to lower the pace. It was more than clear to him that she had no experience in passion and lust. Which explained why she couldn’t control her urges.
In an attempt to cool things down a little, he let go of her mouth, ignoring her whimper of protest. Taking his time, he kissed her cheek, moved to her neck, and kissed the tender spot right behind her ear. He explored along her jaw, leaving a trail of wet kisses, and found that same tender spot that had her melting in his arms.
It was torture for him to control himself like so. He wanted her as he had never wanted anyone. But he also knew her, and she so often regretted letting go. She was proud, didn’t like exposing herself, or showing her weaknesses.
He could hear her panting, the whimpers, and moans she released. Her hips were lifting and lowering in sinuous moves as old as time. While she lost herself beneath him, he busied himself kissing her smooth skin. His mouth was leisurely following the edge of her dress when she grabbed his head and brought him back over her face.
“Aiden…” she whispered. “Aiden, I love you…”
His heart swelled to the point he worried his chest might not be big enough to contain it. Amalia, the love of his life, loved him in return. He felt thankful to whoever or whatever was allowing it. He was grateful to be deserving of her love. Overwhelmed by it. The smart, witty, beautiful, and strong-minded Amalia loved him.
When she lifted herself to kiss him, he complied, full of love for her. They kissed like it was the only thing that mattered, desperate to feel more, to get more, to be together. She was undulating under him, writhing her hips against his, making him hard to the point it ached, her hands grabbing and pulling desperately.
“I love you. Please… I need you,” she begged, her voice warm and sensual, tugging at his wet shirt.
“Are you sure?” The question was much harder to ask than he’d expected. “You won’t regret it?”
“No. I want you. It doesn’t matter what happens after. I need you. Now…”
“Amalia, about after. I am—”
Thinking he was hesitating, she pulled him closer, her hips moving upward, pressing where his body needed her the most.
“Now,” she insisted, right before kissing him.
He didn’t resist any longer. They would talk after . He lifted a hand to her breast, pressing his palm on it, feeling as much of her as he could. She was so soft under him, so incredibly tempting. Quickly, it wasn’t enough, and he craved to feel more of her, more of her skin.
Moving away from her, he pulled the laces of her decolletage. With unmasked impatience, he passed them through the eyelets until the garment was loose enough. Then he pulled the fabric down to expose her generous mounds. After a rapid glance at her puckered tips, he met her eyes again, reading the plea in them. Lord, flushed and aroused like this, she was the most gorgeous creature that ever existed. Eager to answer her silent request, he bent over her and took a brown tip inside his mouth. He took great pleasure in discovering what she preferred, going from one to another. He bit, licked, sucked, kissed… The feeling of it under his tongue was rendering him mad with lust.
He was on his way to heaven, and every moan she made, every gasp, every sigh felt like one step closer to its golden gates.
Her hands were on his head, her fingers clutching his hair, pressing him, gripping him, begging him… When she released him, an intense shiver ran through him as her palms trailed down his neck, where she tried to pull at his shirt. Understanding she was trying to take it off, he kneeled for an instant, slid the white cloth over his head, and came back, his lips inches from hers, their eyes locked.
He wanted her, wanted to be inside of her, to know what it felt like, to have her intimacy wrap tightly around his shaft. He needed it more than he needed air. But he didn’t want her to have regrets afterward. Before they could go any further, he had to be sure it was enough for her, right here, under the weeping willow, on this perfect, sunny day.
“Are you sure you want this, love?” he asked again.
“Yes. I want it with all my heart.”
With her whole heart… The very heart that was his. As much as his heart was hers.
The song for this one took me a while to find. It’s a mix of piano and violin, so it’s quite suited! Keyboard Concerto in G Major, Wq. 44: II. Andantino, by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach.
【18】Under the Weeping Willow
Sonata in D Minor, K.9, by Domenico Scarlatti
Intoxicated by the taste of her tongue on his, Aiden moved to the side. With an impatient hand, he hauled her skirts up, revealing her legs little by little. The heavy and sticky wet fabric was making the task more arduous than he preferred.
She wasn’t wearing any stockings, which aroused him more than he could ever have imagined. Hers were the most gracious, the most perfect legs he had ever seen. The appeal of them had him dropping his hand on the inside of her knee. Her skin was still slightly cold from her moment in the water. He could already feel it warm up under his touch. Taking his time, he carefully moved his hand upward, treasuring how soft she was. The sight of his large hand on her thigh, progressing slowly, was affecting him more than he’d thought possible. Discovering more of her was overwhelming, and he couldn’t wait to have explored her enough to know her by heart.
As his hand slowly traveled up to its destination, her legs clamped together, tighter and tighter. Only then did he remember she was innocent. Being seen for the first time by a man had to be nerve-racking. Especially outside, with the sun shining and leaving no room for modesty.
He lifted his gaze from her sumptuous legs and looked at her face. Her pearly teeth were planted into her lower lip, her cheeks red, and her eyes tightly shut. Gently, he motioned to kiss her.
Leaving her skirts as they were, he focused on getting her panting and distracted again. It didn’t take long, as she welcomed his lips and tongue with enthusiasm. He gently returned his hand on her leg, right over her knee, not wanting to push her too fast. When he tried to slip it between her closed thighs, she tightened.
“I thought you wanted this,” he whispered in her ear.
“I do. It’s just that… I’m embarrassed. I don’t know what to do…”
Her voice was trembling, almost as if she was about to cry. He nipped her ear and smiled when he felt her shiver against him.
“I know what to do, love. Will you trust me?” She nervously nodded, and he kissed her neck, right on a spot where he could see a vein pulsate. “Open for me,” he whispered as he tried again to push his hand between her thighs. She obeyed slowly, and he couldn’t contain a grunt of appreciation.
“That’s it, love. Now I’m going to move my hand up.”
As he said it, he caressed the inside of her thigh, moving upward to her core. She flinched when he grazed the tender skin high on the inside of her legs. Before he even reached her delicate folds, he could feel her heat, her wetness. When his thumb brushed her curls, she let out a sensual sigh.
God, how he loved her.
He doubted he would ever get enough of her. This would be their first of many times. And after he would have had her, when she would lay in his arms, satisfied and peaceful, he would ask her to marry him. And she wouldn’t refuse, not after all this.
Ever since she had left, after their moment in his study, Aiden had thought about it constantly. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else. What the others would think didn’t matter. As soon as they’d get to know Amalia Romero, people would understand why marrying her had been his only choice.
This morning, he had chosen a ring to ask her to become his forever, and he’d taken it with him, hoping the occasion would arise. And it would. Along with other things, he thought, adjusting his position to relieve the pressure on his aching groin.
He couldn’t wait for them to be married. He wanted to live the rest of his life with this strong-minded, bright, and talented spitfire of a woman. Never would they have a dull day together, their life full of love and adventures. They would grow old together, have children, grandchildren, and he would spend a lifetime proving to her she had made the right decision.
“Look at me,” he asked softly, lifting himself on his elbow. She opened her eyes, and her smile lightened his heart.
His hand was still on the verge of her intimacy, and with their eyes locked, he closed the small space left. The instant his fingers met her wetness, a shiver ran up his arm, and he had to fight the urge to move faster. He didn’t want to scare her. Admiring the slight changes on her face, he touched her with care, as if that part of her was a delicate flower, a fragile orchid. With patient curiosity, his fingers surveyed her wet folds, spreading them, caressing them.
She let out a voluptuous sigh, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. He took his time fondling her lightly, letting her get used to being touched. When she moaned and lifted her hips to intensify his touch, he knew she was ready. Until now, he had avoided the crucial spot, but now she needed him there. With a determined but gentle gesture, he moved his thumb to her hidden pearl. Another moan. He kept stroking it gently while two other fingers were toying with her entrance, barely entering, withdrawing…
She was the most gorgeous she’d ever been, whimpering, undulating, flustered. One lifetime would never be enough.
“Aiden,” she whimpered.
“What is it, Ama?”
“More… I want more…”
His delighted grin vanished on her lips when he kissed her again. His index finger slid inside of her, and he marveled at how warm and tight she was. The digit extracted another moan from her that resonated all the way to his erection, which palpitated with need. Adjusting the speed of his thumb, he moved his finger back and forth in her. With the way she trembled, letting out a soft plaint, he could tell her orgasm was already seconds away. She grabbed his forearm to press him harder where she needed him so much.
“Please, I need…” She couldn’t find the words, and he could feel her frustration.
Gently, he pushed a second finger inside of her. She was so tight that he could barely go past the first knuckles. When he pressed harder, she let out a surprised cry as her tender channel swallowed his fingers further. It was all so erotic, he worried he might spill while still wearing his breeches. He toyed with her, pulling his fingers in and out, adoring the wet sounds they made, loving the sighs he conjured from her lungs. His thumb was still actively teasing her clitoris, and he could feel the way her walls clenched around him.
“I love you, Ama,” he professed, his heart so full of her.
The hand on his forearm tensed, the nails digging into his skin. A soft, shaky cry left her lips, and he felt her insides pulsate around his fingers.
In pure awe, he admired the spectacle of her orgasm. Her face was tense, her brows frowned, her nose slightly pinched, and her mouth was letting out the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. The rest of her body was shaking, and her chest was shuddering in rhythm with her ragged breath, her breasts wiggling. Her hips were moving as if they had their own mind, as she shoved herself over and over again on his fingers. He tried to maintain her climax for as long as he could, his thumb circling the source of her pleasure, his fingers never halting the back and forth in her channel.
When the waves faded away, his touch became lighter, helping her come down.
After a moment, she opened her eyes again. With bliss in her eyes, she lifted to kiss him and then looked at him with the most euphoric smile. Now , he thought. He would ask her to marry him now.
She wouldn’t refuse.
For a split second, Amalia thought she was dead and had gone to heaven. Aiden’s touch, his fingers in her, was causing something to build up inside of her, a tension, something powerful. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but he did. Oh, he most certainly did because he never stopped. And when this tension reached its peak, it felt as if a dam broke inside of her.
All of what he had been doing to her had been for this. Waves of pleasure, as she could never have imagined, started from his touch, his hand, to spread to her entire body. She couldn’t hold back the sounds that came out of her throat, and she couldn’t stop her hips from moving. For an instant that seemed to last an eternity, she wasn’t in control of her body anymore. He was.
Aiden, her Aiden, was bringing her to the most blissful heights. In his arms, she felt as though she flew, losing herself into the deepest infinity.
Slowly, the waves became less powerful and Aiden’s touch became lighter. With the sensations lessening, she regained her ability to think. It felt like she was waking from a deep slumber, her body weak and heavy. When she opened her eyes, she saw him admiring her with an adoring look on his face. She lifted her head to kiss him, a deep, thorough kiss, and moved back, dreamily gazing up at him.
Her mood switched when she noticed there was something off with him. He wanted to say something and was thinking of a way to say it. His visible indecision made her worry. What if he changed his mind and refused to go all the way?
Despite her innocence and uneasiness, she knew a thing or two about what happened between a man and a woman. After all, she had married friends who always felt compelled to recount their marital lives. She knew men had two brains, and one of them was very easy to manipulate.
Having found his words, Aiden spoke. “Amalia, I have something to ask—” Before he could say anything else, she moved her hand to the front of his trousers, her hand shaping the rigid form there. As she gauged its size into her palm, she couldn’t hide her perplexity.
Dear God… Was all of this supposed to go inside of her? She was trying to remember what her friends had said, but she couldn’t think of one mentioning the fact that it only went halfway or so. Despite her concern, she noted her maneuver worked. Aiden was speechless, his second brain taking control.
Curious, she moved her hand along the hard shape, wanting to feel the whole extent of it. Hastily, Aiden moved his hand to hers. For an instant, he pressed it harder onto his protrusion but then moved her hand away.
“Amalia, love, we have to talk first.”
“We’ve done too much talking already.” Feeling rebellious, she tried to put her other hand on him. Before her hand would reach him, he caught it firmly.
“In a minute, you spitfire. Let me just express what I have to say first.”
Defeated, Amalia sighed and sat up when he released her hands. After he’d cleared his throat, he arranged her cleavage and skirts so that she would look presentable. That wasn’t a good sign. Not one that indicated they would resume what they’d started.
“Amalia Romero. I wanted to ask if you would… Um…” he hesitated before clearing his throat. “Love, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Amalia froze. Of all the things she was expecting, a proposal certainly wasn’t one of them. Entirely disturbed by his ludicrous demand, she wordlessly stared at him. She didn’t know what to say. What could she even answer to this? Where did this come from? The silence stretched, making the atmosphere around them awkward and tense. They could hear the birds, the wind in the willow’s branches… A fish jumped out of the water somewhere over the lake, the splash it made easy to hear in the deafening silence.
Aiden seemed so nervous that she would have probably teased him if she hadn’t been in the same state of mind.
“Say something,” he pleaded.
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?” he repeated, appalled.
“I gave myself to you. You don’t have to try to win me over.”
Her statement seemed to offend him. Regaining some composure, he looked down on himself, only to remember he was half-naked. His gaze moved to his shirt on the ground, then traveled to the boat that was slowly drifting away on the lake.
“Damn it. I have a ring. It is in my waistcoat.”
It was Amalia’s turn to be shocked. “You have been carrying a ring around? To propose to me?”
“Yes.”
Amalia tried to think through the confusion, but nothing made sense. Her mind was too clogged with questions and doubts. What she needed was to get away from him, to allow herself some time to process what had just happened. With trembling limbs, she forced herself up and rearranged her dress. Her soaked bodice was hard to handle, and her trembling fingers wouldn’t cooperate. His familiar hands came over hers, steady and firm. He was in front of her, a few inches away.
“Calm down and talk to me, Ama.”
“Worst part is, I don’t know if you’re serious or making fun of me. How can you ask me something like that?”
Many women would have gladly accepted his proposal. Many of them could , but not her. She was bound by her low birth. A bohemian married to a duke? That was the joke of the century. She felt humiliated. Tears rolled down her cheeks, showing her internal turmoil.
“Please don’t cry, love. It could work. I have been thinking of a plan.”
“No, it couldn’t. What do you think people will say when they see me? I cannot be good enough. I will never be graceful, moderate, or well-mannered. I can never be like your mother.”
“Well, it’s a good thing because it isn’t my mother I want to marry,” he explained with a pinch of humor.
“No one will ever be fooled by me.”
“I don’t care about the people. The only one I care about is you.”
Her heart dropped in her chest. She had to think. There were a hundred reasons for her to refuse, but when he was looking at her like that, she couldn’t think of a single one. Putting her hand on his jaw, she looked at him, a distraught look on her face.
“Aiden, we cannot… I can live as an outcast. I really can. But… what happens when we have children?” She paused to allow her question to hit him. When it did, a deep frown twisted his brows. Maybe he hadn’t thought of everything after all. “Can you imagine the things they will have to endure? Your people will judge them before they are even born. I don’t think I can live knowing I condemned my own children to this life.”
He was trying to find a counter-argument, but Amalia didn’t want to be here for it. If she stayed, he would eventually win. More than anything, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. But it was impossible. Even if it would tear her heart to shreds to leave him now, it was still the safest option.
Raising on the tip of her toes, she kissed him tenderly, needing to feel whole one last time.
“I love you, Aiden,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. “Goodbye.”
Ignoring the extreme pain in her chest, she walked away from him, holding back her sobs.
The chapter’s song is romantic, and beautiful, and nuanced, and light, and sometimes not… Go check out Sonata in D Minor, K.9, by Domenico Scarlatti.
【19】Sisterly Love
Piano Concerto No. 1 in C major, Po. 11, J.98: II. Adagio, by Carl Maria von Weber
For hours, Amalia wandered around. For as long as she could, she delayed the moment she’d get back to her camp, where her family would surely notice something was terribly wrong with her.
Deep down, she knew she was doing the right thing. She was convinced of it, even. But while she knew there was no other way, she couldn’t help but think of what her life with Aiden would be like.
In her haste to leave, she hadn’t even given him the time to explain what was his plan to make it work. She had been so focused on fleeing the situation that she couldn’t think straight. But it was too late. All she could do now was convince herself she’d taken the right decision. But as she tried to think of all the misfortune she was avoiding by refusing his proposal, she kept thinking of all the happiness she would miss.
Maybe a life spent by his side was enough to balance out everything else.
By the time she arrived at the campsite, the sun was almost down, the night slowly falling over the meadow. She was so lost in her thoughts it took her a moment to realize that something wasn’t right.
Everybody was running around, carrying bags, belongings, trunks… It was usual for the camp to be animated, with women doing their chores, children running around, men repairing something… But this was different. There was some urgency to it, a frenzy that worried her.
She hurriedly went to her caravan. In there, she found her sisters tidying up their things. Brunhilde, the youngest, was crying, and Francine was trying to comfort her.
“What’s happening?” Amalia asked. Blanca, the oldest of her three sisters, turned around.
“Where have you been! Father has been looking for you for hours!”
“What is going on? Why is everyone packing up?”
“We have to leave! I don’t really know what happened, but men, constables, came, and they said we violated some law, stating we can’t beg for charity. Also, we aren’t allowed to stay on this prairie because it’s someone’s property.” Blanca paused, trying to remember everything. “He said we were in infraction with other laws, but father thinks it’s just lies.”
“But why now?” Amalia asked.
“I don’t know, apparently it has something to do with the lord nearby.” She lowered her voice and came closer to Amalia. “I heard Paul and Rodrigo talk. Apparently, the owner of that big white castle uphill is some prejudiced tyrant who hates bohemians. That is why he sent his men to chase us away.”
Amalia shook her head, dumbfounded. It sounded like the old duke had taken the matter into his own hands, after all. “When are we supposed to leave?”
Francine, who had been silent until now, spoke. “We have until dawn tomorrow to leave. After that, they will send people to chase us. Apparently, some of us could risk being shipped to the Caribbeans or even hanged!”
Brunhilde sobbed even louder, visibly terrified by this prospect. Amalia went to hug her. This was bad. Terrible. The entirety of Europe seemed determined to be rid of her people, and they were never welcomed in the same place for long. Nowhere felt like home, which was why family was so important. Their home was in each other.
As she was holding her sister, the reality of the situation hit her.
Aiden…
It wasn’t the first time they had to leave in a hurry – far from it. They often had to disappear into the night for their own safety or to avoid troubles. However, it was the first time she didn’t want to go. If they left, she’d never see Aiden again. Her family would drag her to God knows where, and she’d never see the man she loved ever again. She had to make a decision. Now. Before dawn, she had to decide if she was ready to spend a lifetime away from him or risk everything and be by his side.
Still holding Brunhilde, she examined each of her options. As she was trying to think, images of Aiden kept leaping into her mind. Their laughs, their appreciation for music, their afternoons of talking and fooling around… But mostly the way he made her feel, the way he kissed her, the limitless love she felt for him, the unrestrained passion…
When she’d left him this afternoon, she’d believed it was their last encounter, and she thought she could live with that. But now that it was real, that she might actually never cross Aiden’s path again, it seemed insurmountable. The notion of never seeing him again was too much for her to handle. Her eyes watered with hopeless tears, her vision getting blurry. Rapidly, the salty drops of despair rolled down her face, gathering at her chin. She was holding her sister for her own consolation now.
Brunhilde abruptly pushed her away. “Ew!” said the little girl. “Are you drooling on me?” She looked up, and when she saw Amalia was crying, her eyes became huge with stupor. “Are you crying?”
“No, it’s impossible. Amalia never cries,” Blanca said as she came closer to see what was happening.
Francine joined them, and all three sisters realized Amalia was, in fact, crying. After a moment of stupor, they harassed her with questions, but she didn’t hear them through the raging commotion of her thoughts. Unable to contain her cries, she let herself go and wept openly. She could barely breathe over the sobs, barely hear over her pain…
They helped her sit down on the bed. Amalia knew she should reassure them, but there was nothing she could do to stop her overwhelming hopelessness. A new, familiar face came into her view, and she realized her aunt was here as well now. All four of them tried their best to console Amalia, wiping her tears, hugging her, soothing her… Thanks to their perseverance, she managed to calm down a little.
Ingrid took the initiative and asked her questions. “Is it because of the same man as the other night?” Still unable to talk, Amalia nodded. “Did he hurt you?” This time, she shook her head. “Did you hurt him?” Nod. Ingrid sighed, apparently understanding Amalia’s predicament. “Does he love you as much as you love him?” Another nod.
Amalia took a deep, trembling inhalation. “He wants to marry me,” she sobbed through her hectic breath.
“And you don’t?”
“Yes, I do… Very much.”
“Then why don’t you?” Ingrid asked with empathy.
“It’s complicated… And if I leave, who will take care of them?” Amalia turned to her sisters, troubled to see them so affected by her distressed state.
Blanca rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about us! There is a man somewhere crazy enough to want to marry you, you pigheaded idiot. You are in love with each other; that is all that matters.”
The other two agreed with the statement and hearing her sisters’ opinion on this was confusing Amalia. They made it sound so simple that she wondered why she was resisting so hard. Maybe, after all, things could be simple. All she had to do was to trust him. Aiden had a plan. The very least she could do was to hear him out.
Sensing that her mind was slowly switching, Ingrid gently grazed her cheeks to wipe away the last tears. “I promise I’ll watch over them, Ama. But trust me when I say a love like yours shouldn’t go to waste.”
Wanting the same thing as their aunt, her sisters pulled on Amalia’s arm to make her stand up. Blanca then gestured toward the door. “Just go already!”
Amalia glanced quickly at her attire. Her dress was in a terrible state, thanks to the unexpected dive into the lake.
“I can’t go like this.”
All four of them looked at her, assessing the damages. Ingrid took charge, sending them outside to fetch things. Grabbing a brush, she vehemently detangled Amalia’s hair. With the help of Brunhilde, who had come back with all sorts of hairpins, she styled Amalia’s hair in a lovely way, with two French braids that ended in a bun low on her neck. When Francine came back, she was hiding something in an old sheet. She opened it, and Amalia’s eyes widened.
It was their mother’s wedding dress. Their mom had worn it only once and had kept it with her ever since, with the goal to pass it on to her daughters once their time to marry would come. It was a beautiful dress, with white lace and light blue silk. It was still far too humble compared to what Aiden’s peers could afford, but it was a clear improvement from what she usually wore herself. Amalia was about to protest when the girls and her aunt made it clear that it was pointless to even try.
If she was to marry, this dress was hers to have.
They helped her out of her wrinkled yellow gown and went outside, to give Amalia some privacy for some quick ablutions. Once she was done, she slipped the blue dress on and called the others back, needing their help. As Brunhilde and Francine were tying the back of the dress, Blanca insisted on a touch of makeup while Ingrid finished her hair.
When it was all done, Francine held an old mirror in front of Amalia so she could see the results. She had to admit it was a definite improvement. Although she was sure Aiden would be delighted to see her, no matter what she was wearing.
Doubt settled into her mind, wondering if he’d truly be happy to see her. She’d abandoned him earlier today, harshly refusing his proposal. She’d left him there with his broken heart and the ring he wanted to give her. Shaking her head, she dismissed those silly fears. Aiden loved her. He’d understand why she’d fled.
After she’d warmly thanked her sisters, she put a long cloak on and got out of the caravan discreetly. In the camp’s agitation, she fended her way into the night without anyone noticing.
So… Will they, won’t they?
Something a bit sad, and fragile, for this sad chapter, even though it ends on a good note! Piano Concerto No. 1 in C major, Po. 11, J.98: II. Adagio, by Carl Maria von Weber.
【20】The Plan
Violin Concerto No. 4 In D Major, K.218: 2. Andante cantabile, by
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Slumped in the armchair in his quarters, Aiden stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace. The confusing blur of his thoughts had gotten the better of him, and he couldn’t do anything other than think of her. After she had left, he’d stayed a long time under the weeping willow, struggling to accept her refusal.
On his way back to the manor, he had come across their small boat. The wind had pushed it ashore in the reeds. The reminder of the ring in his waistcoat had inflicted yet another blow on his broken heart. After he’d taken his things, he had walked to his chambers, carefully avoiding members of his family. After a rapid wash with a cloth and the cold water from the pitcher, he’d sat down with a glass and a bottle of whisky. He hadn’t moved since. His valet had reminded him of the upcoming supper, but he’d pretended to have a splitting headache. Some moments later, the man had brought up a tray. Aiden hadn’t touched it.
He was now finishing his third glass, bitterly noticing the alcohol wasn’t working; the ache in his heart was still intense. As much as he hated to admit it, she’d had a point. He knew his peers all too well, and their children would suffer from the situation. Especially daughters. His world was cruel to women. The gossips, the accusations, the stares… No matter what title he held, how blue his blood was, their children would be deemed stained and contaminated by their mother’s origins.
God, how he hated his people… With their righteous dogmas and archaic values. None of them lived the virtuous lives they advocated so fiercely. He aspired to simplicity, to blunt honesty, to realness…
His thoughts drifted back to Amalia. Couldn’t he have fallen in love with a simpler woman? One who wouldn’t overthink things, who would let him be in control, who would allow him to possess her…
Just the idea of a docile Amalia revolted him. It seemed not only inconceivable but also unwelcome. After years of relishing his freedom and never wanting to get married, he had finally found the one. She was the only woman who could make him want all this. If he had fallen so completely in love with her, it was because , and not in spite, of her stubbornness.
He was reaching for the bottle, ready to pour himself a fourth glass, when a familiar voice resonated from his left. “So, what is your plan?”
Amalia was there! Abruptly, he turned around, startled to find her so close. For an instant, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. With her light blue dress, she seemed like an apparition, one that could disappear at any moment.
Had she changed her mind? Was she here to say goodbye? Hundreds of questions suddenly flooded his brain. Regardless of the answers, the sight of her healed his heart. In a split second, she’d chased away all the pain he’d been in moments ago.
When his excitement calmed down, he took a moment to observe her. Except for that night his mother had hired her services for the party, he had never seen her really try to be appealing.
He’d always thought she didn’t need to do anything to be appealing. She was a natural beauty, with her black and dense brows, the thick fringes of her lashes that made her dark eyes seem larger, her tempting pink lips, and her cheeks that never failed to flush when he teased her. But right now, she was absolutely gorgeous. Her makeup accentuated her features, and her dress cinched her waist, making her hips seem wider. She was absolutely stunning, looking at him with hope and longing.
When she cleared her throat, visibly uneasy, he realized he was staring. He put his glass down and stood up to face her. She was standing near the open French windows, and he guessed she’d climbed the old oak to get in. Unable to contain his wonderment, he smiled and shook his head. He knew all about how she was adventurous and fearless.
God, how he loved her.
Aiden walked up to her but didn’t dare touch her, afraid she would fade into thin air. With an encouraging nod, she put her hand on his chest, closing the space that separated them.
“What was your plan so we can get married?”
Her smile was kind, and she encouraged him to tell her with a soft push of her palm on his sternum. He put his hands over hers, moving it and pressing it tightly against his heart.
“I thought we could get married in secret, in Scotland. Then we would leave, visit Europe for months, a year. It would be like a long honeymoon,” he explained, not refraining his enthusiasm. “At some point, I would announce to my parents that I have married the daughter of some Spanish aristocrat. Or Portuguese. It doesn’t really matter; we would invent one. My father barely knows half the Lords in England, I doubt he would notice a fake one from the other side of the continent… I don’t think getting forged papers will be complicated.”
He paused, scanning her eyes, looking for her approval. “It is the perfect cover. Your accent, your manners, your exoticism… We could justify everything, and we would make people think, ‘she is a foreigner, that is the way they do things in Spain’.”
“What if one of them has actually been to Spain?”
“No one goes to Spain. People go to France or Italy, sometimes Germany, but never Spain. And even so, we would just tell them they didn’t pay enough attention or that you’re from another part of Spain. Trust me, Ama, no one would dare to question the word of a duke and his duchess.”
She nodded silently, her pretty head gauging everything, as usual.
“My family,” she said with concern. “They can never know. My brothers, they would try to take advantage of the situation. I will tell them I’m leaving to marry a farmer or a baker.”
“Or a dashing Scottish smuggler named Aiden,” he humored, amused.
Amalia’s eyes widened. “Yes! Oh, this is perfect! They wouldn’t know where to find us, and it is plausible, given what happened that night.”
He watched with adoration as her face became flushed with embarrassment.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, resting her head on his chest. “Aiden, I think it can work.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head as he hugged her back.
“Do you know what the best part about this plan is?” he asked, very proud of himself. She lifted her face, looking up at him with hopeful eyes, her chin planted in his torso. “We don’t have to wait for anything. No bans, no wedding organization… We could leave in two days.”
She squeezed him harder, her eyes suddenly darker. “You mean that by the end of the week, I could be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Aiden couldn’t resist the invitation. He bent and kissed her tenderly. At least, it started tender, but soon enough, both of them were demanding more, their greedy tongues meeting for a wet encounter. He remembered how clumsy she’d been when they’d first kissed, and was amazed by how fast she’d learned. Kissing Amalia was always an incredible thing. She did it with her natural sincerity, with eagerness and truthfulness. She took as much as she gave, and it felt more real than all the other kisses he’d ever experienced. When he released her, they were both panting.
“God, yes… My precious wife… And then, a year-long honeymoon.” He kissed her again, and she wiggled with a smile, struggling to escape his embrace. He let go of her and watched as she walked around the room, examining his things.
“By the time we come back, you will have grown tired of me,” she stated.
He was following her closely, refusing to be more than a few feet away from her. His hands reached for her on their own, and he grabbed her by the hips to press her against him. With his face buried in her neck, inhaling her scent, he sampled the curve of her shoulder, eager to taste her.
“I will never get tired of you, Ama.” To prove his point, he pressed his raging erection against her bottom. She let out a sensual sigh and pushed back against him to feel him better.
Without a word, he sent his hand to the ties at the back of her dress. He carefully undid the knot and loosened them, anxious to resume what they’d started earlier. Quietly waiting, she allowed him despite the slight tension in her shoulders. When the bodice of her dress came loose, he undid the knots holding her skirts in place.
He kissed her shoulder to ease the tension away, and she arched her head the other way to give him access to her neck. He gladly accepted the invitation and followed with his lips the lines of her tendons and muscles along the slope of her slender neck.
“I should have you sign something, a form, stating you won’t change your mind again,” he said, knowing his words were caressing her skin, probably pushing her further into this numbing state of arousal.
“I’m done changing my mind.” He couldn’t see her smile, but he heard it in her voice. “This is what I want.”
As if he had been waiting for her to say that, he pushed her skirts down, making them fall to the floor, pooling at their feet. The bodice followed, and he took a step back to admire her. She was only wearing her corset, chemise, and stockings. Aiden had to tug at the crotch of his pants to adjust himself. She was splendid.
She gave him a shy look from over her shoulder, and he saw her arms lift, her hands going to the front of her corset. With gestures that seemed inexperienced, she unhooked it, and Aiden watched the garment loosen until she let it fall on the pile of clothes. Slowly, she turned around and faced him. She seemed both worried and determined, and when their eyes met, she smiled timidly.
With the slowest moves, she lifted her hand and pulled at the string on the collar of her chemise. Hooking her fingers on the seam at her cleavage, she stretched it over her shoulders. When she let her arms down, the thin apparel slipped along her curves, joining the rest of her clothes.
Aiden was speechless, his tongue tied by awe, a heavy knot sitting in his throat. He wanted to say something, wanted her to know she was the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth, but he’d become unable to form words.
Her breasts were generous without being overly large, and they were beautifully formed, round and firm, with two perky tips looking slightly upward. Her stomach was flat, her waist naturally narrow. He had never been particularly observant regarding navels, but hers seemed ideally placed and shaped. Her curved hips were made to welcome his hands, and the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs was everything.
She was still wearing stockings, their whiteness grayer than they probably used to be. The fabric was coarser than what he was used to, but those were somehow the loveliest pair he’d ever seen. The thought that she had slipped those on, knowing he might see them, aroused him beyond words. She tried to keep her arms along the sides of her body to allow him to admire her fully, but his silence eventually worried her. She put one hand to her front to shield her intimacy from his heated gaze, and a forearm went over her breast.
“Aiden, say something…”
He reached her in a heartbeat and lifted her in his arms, picking her up from the pile of her discarded clothes. She locked her arms around his neck as he carried her across the room. Once he reached his bed, he delicately laid her on it. In a show of modesty, she tried to hide herself, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them on each side of her head.
“Don’t hide from me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you is perfect.”
Without releasing her wrists, he punctuated his words with a kiss right above her navel. His mouth moved up, laying kisses, bites, and licks along her skin, ripping sighs and moans from her. When he reached her breasts, he gave each of her nipples a thorough treatment before continuing up and finishing his exploration with an ardent kiss.
When he looked at her, she was panting, her cheeks red, her lips swollen… She was an absolute temptation.
“I love you,” he uttered.
Before she had the time to whisper it back, he reclaimed her lips with passion.
AAAAAAHHHH! <—–You right now.
So, I’m trying hard to give you things other than Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, but it’s not always easy to find great songs that aren’t them. If they are who we know best, it’s because they wrote an insane amount of pieces, but also that they were the bomb. So… Violin Concerto No. 4 In D Major, K.218: 2. Andante cantabile, by
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
.
【21】Endless Love
Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13: II. Agagio cantabile, by Ludwig van Beethoven.
Amalia’s heart had doubled in size and was about to explode in her chest.
She loved this man with everything she had, and she felt like an idiot for resisting him for so long. As she was lying in his gigantic bed while he worshiped her like a goddess, she promised herself never to doubt him again. When he lifted his golden head, parting their lips, his icy eyes pierced through her, and she wondered what she had ever done to deserve him.
Impatient to consummate their love and offer him her body as she’d given him her soul, she noticed he was still dressed. The sudden urge to see him naked, as exposed as she was, overwhelmed her.
She tugged at his hands, still holding her wrists, trying to free herself. “I want to feel your skin against mine,” she protested.
His pupils dilated, a perfect black circle surrounded by blue. A euphoric grin was plastered on his face when he moved away from her to stand in front of her at the foot of the bed. With rapid gestures, he got rid of his shirt.
Amalia sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, one on each side of him. She examined his body, taking her time. She was used to seeing half-dressed men. The ones at camp never failed to remove their shirts during an arduous task. Even her brothers often did, sometimes in the hope of wooing women.
However, none of them looked like Aiden did.
He was lean, his torso was defined, and his hips narrow. His muscular chest was covered in light blond fuzz, darker than his hair. She dared to put her hand in the middle of it, grazing the sparse fur. There was a large patch over his chest, which then formed a line that went down his stomach to widen right before it disappeared under his pants, hanging low on his hips.
Feeling compelled to, she nonchalantly followed the trail, enjoying the way his muscles contracted at the light touch of her fingers. When she reached the barrier of his trousers, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
He was visibly struggling to contain himself, his jaw tense and his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. With a wicked smile, she pushed two fingers down under the cloth. She barely had enough time to notice that the hairs became denser before he jerked her hand out. Consumed by need as much as she was, he pushed her back onto the bed.
He impatiently laid her down, wildly kissing her. His hands were framing her face as he devoured her, keeping her right there. The lower part of him was pressed between her legs, and she bent her knees, tilting her hips to accentuate the pressure. She was already feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and he wasn’t even naked yet.
Because her eagerness couldn’t be contained, she sent her hand between them and pressed it on the hard shape at his crotch, molding her palm and fingers over it. He moaned in her mouth and pushed her hand away to take care of the fastening of his breeches. She could feel his impatience in his hurried and clumsy gestures. And she reveled in it.
Never breaking their kiss, he shoved his trousers down, and she whimpered with yearning. Something hard, warm, and unfamiliar, touched the inside of her thigh. When she understood his manhood was free, a shiver coursed up her body, warming her everywhere. Her hands were on his sides, and she slid them down to rest them on his lower back and draw him closer.
This pull she had toward him was extraordinary. She wanted him with feverish intensity like she’d never wanted anyone, like she didn’t even know it was possible to want someone. Soon, they would be the closest two beings could ever be. And she couldn’t wait for it.
When she adjusted her position beneath him so his hard length would settle perfectly on the part of her that demanded him, he let out a low growl which vibrated against her tongue.
Once he was done removing the last of his clothing, he helped her move up on the bed to settle her higher on the mattress. He then placed himself above her, his hardness against her wet folds again. Curious to see what this part of him looked like, she tried to look down. But he was blocking the view, and she couldn’t see past his muscular stomach against hers.
“Aiden, I want to see you.”
He frowned, giving her request a thorough consideration. Once his decision was made, he kissed her again. “After,” he promised against her lips.
She wanted to argue, but he took possession of her mouth. With a lascivious move of his hips, sliding right against the center of her needs, he robbed her of her ability to speak entirely. The friction on her tender folds sent a wave of raw pleasure throughout her body, making her moan. She tried to feel it once more, moving to rub herself against him. It was his turn to moan. She did it again, and he followed her. They moved together, their bodies becoming slippery with sweat, never letting go of each other’s lips. She reveled in the wet sounds that came from their rubbing intimacies, the sighs that were escaping their mouths…
Their moves became sloppier, greed making them feverish and eager. With a groan, Aiden backed up and held her hips with both his hands, trying to fight something within him.
“I need to be inside of you,” he hoarsely declared. He didn’t move, and Amalia understood he was waiting for her approval.
Her nod brought him great relief, and she caught on to it. He leaned on one arm to make sure he wouldn’t crush her, and with one hand between them, he guided his shaft to her entrance. He didn’t push himself in right away, and slid the round and smooth shape along her slit instead, teasing that particularly sensitive spot.
Once the head of him was coated with her desire, he settled it lower and pressed in. She felt the instant he nudged in her and tensed, nervously anticipating the pain that would come.
“No, love,” he said in a soothing voice. “Relax, open for me.”
She tried her best to do as he asked, and he pushed deeper. Aiden was remarkably cautious, moving with gentle care. He kissed her, probably to distract her. And it worked. She welcomed his lips and barely felt it when he pushed further. His hips were rolling in small, continuous nudges, waiting for her to accommodate to his size. It was incredibly odd to have something stretch her like this. It was nothing like his fingers, the circumference much larger. Amalia experienced a slight pain when he reached deeper and winced. He noticed her discomfort and stopped moving.
As she lay there, tucked under his comforting weight, she couldn’t help but think of all the terrible things her friends had told Amalia about their first time. It wasn’t as bad as she had expected. Not at all. She gazed up at her lover and smiled. With his brow frowned, he looked at her with something conflicted in his eyes. Bending lower, he kissed her forehead, then each cheekbone.
“I’m so sorry, my love.”
She was about to ask why when he withdrew before thrusting back hard, making her realize he had only been partially inside of her.
This time, she felt a sharp pain strike her as if she had been stabbed. She cried and tried to push him away, pressing her hands on his solid torso. Muttering an endless chain of apologies, Aiden thrust again, even deeper. Amalia felt like she was being torn apart. A tear rolled on her temple, and when he noticed it, distraught veiled his incredible eyes. He kissed the tear away before thrusting inside of her one last time, disappearing into her entirely. At the sensation of his shaft deeply planted into her, she released a throaty moan, half pain, half relief. There would be no more of him to fit, which was good because there was surely no room left to welcome it. He remained there, unmoving, allowing her some time to get used to the new sensations. She wasn’t sure what to do and didn’t dare to move, worried it would make the pain worse.
“I’m so sorry, Ama. Forgive me,” he pleaded, his voice remorseful. “It was the worst part. It will get better now.”
Aiden then proceeded to tenderly kiss her. After a moment, he moved away to welcome one of her nipples in his mouth instead, the warm and wet touch of it making her moan. With the help of his expert tongue, pleasure slowly took over again. With his free hand, he was caressing her skin, spreading shivers everywhere his palm and fingers touched.
Her hands had been fisting the sheet, and she let it go to move them to his sides. With a feather-like touch, she grazed his ribs, his back…
Taking it as an encouragement, he groaned, and his hips rolled slowly with sinuous shoves, filling and emptying her. The pain wasn’t as sharp as before, but it was still there. Quickly, she felt uncomfortable again.
“Aiden, wait…” she begged, her voice breathless.
Anxious to please her, he complied and stopped moving. Letting go of her breast, he met her eyes. She was still holding back her tears, which he must have guessed since he swore under his breath.
Lifting himself a little, he sent a hand between them, where their bodies joined. With an experienced touch, he caressed the sweet spot right above where he was in her, sending sensual shivers through her entire body. He kept doing it, granting her more and more delectable sparks, until all notions of pain left her mind. She only sensed the pleasure he was giving her. With a moan, she threw her hips toward him, taking him deeper, wanting more.
For the first time, she could feel beyond the pain, and she realized she could feel his shaft, all of it, inside of her. She pushed again, and he moved with her. Her hands went down on his back, and she tried to pull him closer. She wanted to feel all of him. He complied gladly, his thrusts becoming longer and faster.
They were moving together, their momentum building up. Sounds escaped from her lips, and she couldn’t hold anything back. This, the union of their bodies, was better than anything she could have imagined.
Earlier this afternoon, she hadn’t known what to expect, but now she knew exactly what was coming. The tension built slowly in her center, and she knew where it would lead. She could feel Aiden over her, inside of her, around her. He was everywhere, their intertwined bodies rubbing together, their moans blending in unison.
The tension at her core was so intense, so good, that it felt as if it were too much. She wanted him to stop, the sensations making her unhinged, but she also knew she’d want whatever was coming.
Never halting the rhythmic ramming of his shaft, he did something with his hand, still between them? The smooth rolling over her most sensitive spot was enough to send her over the edge.
She tensed, pressed her face on his throat, and then exploded, muffling her cries into his skin. Waves of pleasure paralyzed her as she shattered over and over. Her body trembled against his, her arms and legs clutching him tightly. She barely heard his roar, but understood it was his turn to find relief, his hips jerking uncontrollably.
The seconds stretched, their bodies arched, tensed, and pressed together, their breathing hectic, unable to move. After endless seconds of this astonishing communion of their bodies and souls, he collapsed on her, his weight almost crushing. But she welcomed it gladly, wrapping her arms around his heaving form. She felt as though she’d just learned how to fly, and his heaviness seemed to help ground her.
He didn’t move until the last tremor passed through him. Then, with a grunt, he lifted himself, pulled out of her, and rolled to the side. He seemed to have no strength left in him, and Amalia loved the fact that she was the one who’d made him so weak.
She pressed her body on his side, reluctant to let go of him yet. He was looking at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened. Amused, she kissed his shoulder, and he turned to look at her.
“My God…” he said, astonished. “Ama, that was amazing… I have never—” He couldn’t find the right words. So he simply put his arm around her to pull her closer, kissing her forehead with a smile. “You are incredible.”
“I barely did anything.”
“And clearly, that was more than enough. Next time I should last longer.” Next time… Amalia shivered with enthusiasm at the thought. They would have dozens, hundreds of these times from now on. She was to become his wife, after all. They would be united before God, and what had just happened would become a part of their life together. An important one, if she had any say in it.
He squeezed her one last time and rolled away to get out of the bed. “Don’t move.”
Amalia pulled the covers over her body and lifted herself on her elbows. She watched with delectation as he moved around the room, completely naked, without an ounce of prudishness. As she watched, she took the time to take care of her messy hair, distractedly undoing the braids her aunt had done for her. He spent a moment in front of his washing basin, rigorously cleaning his member. When he came back with a clean cloth and a bowl of water, she shamelessly stared at his groin.
She knew this part of a man became larger and hardened when aroused. Right now, it seemed less rigid than before, but it was still impressive and dangled arrogantly, half raised.
When he came back to her side, she lay down as he pushed the sheets away. He dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it, and carefully pressed it on her sore intimacy. The coldness made her jump a little, but she tried to remain still. When he removed it, the fabric was stained with patches of pink. The proof of their union made her ridiculously happy. She was his, and he was hers. He rinsed the soiled cloth and started over. When there were no traces of blood left, he abandoned the cloth in the bowl.
With careful hands, he then took care of removing her stockings, untying the ribbon that held them high on her legs. When he rolled the thin wool down, he revealed the garter’s marks, embedded in the skin of her thigh. As if he couldn’t hold back, he kissed the reddened spot, and finished removing the garment fully. The other leg knew the same tender treatment. Then, Aiden bent over her, his hands on each side of her, their gazes locked by an unbreakable force.
It had been a very long time since someone had taken care of her like this. For once, she thought, it felt good. Especially when he was the one doing so.
Knowing he would forever take care of her, an irrepressible smile curved her mouth.
A little romantic song, from the composer named after a St. Bernard (don’t come at me, this is a joke): Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13: II. Agagio cantabile, by Ludwig van Beethoven.
【22】The Ring
Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068: II. Air, by Johann Sebastian Bach
Aiden admired her, all cleaned up and looking very innocent despite being naked in his bed. He was sorry to have caused her suffering, but he had done his best to give a pleasure that surpassed her discomfort. To steer clear from problems, he’d never gotten entangled with innocent women before, preferring his mistresses to have some modicum of experience. So, when he’d faced the reality of her virginity, he’d decided to let it be a painful but quick moment to pass.
With the way things had unfolded, he was quite satisfied with his decision. The pleasure he’d brought her was still lingering on her pink cheeks, her eyes still sparkly from it. He kissed her softly, unable to resist.
“There,” he murmured, inches from her face, “as if nothing happened.”
He grabbed a small velvet box on the nightstand and held it in front of her. She sat up against the headboard and took it, her eyes twinkling with joy and curiosity. Given the reverence with which she opened it, she must have guessed what was in it. Still, her eyes widened when she saw the ring. The beauty of it surprised her, and it delighted Aiden. This woman deserved only the best, and he’d give her just that. It was a large oval ruby, framed by fourteen diamonds in total. Two mediums and twelve smaller ones.
Aiden took it out of the box and took Amalia’s left hand, which was resting on the covers, over her thigh. His thumb gently grazed the back of it, and he looked up to meet her eyes. “Would you, Amalia Romero, do me the greatest honor there is and become my wife?”
With a hand on her chest, she tried to talk, but her throat seemed tightened with emotion, her teary eyes filled with love and happiness. All she managed to do was nod. He smiled and slid the ring on her finger. It was slightly too large, but it wasn’t much of an issue.
“We will have a jeweler work on it during our honeymoon.” He paused and held her hand in his, enjoying the sight of the ring on her. “It has been in the family for many generations. The last one who wore it was my grandmother.”
“I hope I can fool everyone into thinking I’m a proper lady,” she said, her insecurities coming back.
“I’m sure you will, my love.”
The unexpected sound of a stomach rumbling echoed, and she gave him an apologetic glance, dropping her hand to the source of the noise. That made him realize he was starving too, and remembered he still had his supper waiting for him on a tray. He went to get it and settled it on the bed between them.
They shared the meal, a stuffed quail with a mushroom sauce and roasted potatoes, as well as a generous piece of fresh bread and a slice of peach pie. They took turns sipping on the generously filled glass of wine that accompanied it all. Everything had gone cold, but they didn’t mind, pleased to have something to feast on in this time of need.
Aiden enjoyed the moment immensely as they fed each other, talked, and joked. He would have to make this a recurring tradition. Once the plates on the tray were empty, except for the fragile bones of the bird, Aiden set it aside and sat back next to her.
“There are so many things that I will need to learn,” she realized, a slight worry in her voice.
“Don’t worry, Ama. You are smart. You will get the hang of it in no time.”
“I will have to start the lessons during our honeymoon. I need to be ready when we return. Your parents have seen me as a bohemian. I will need to be an entirely different person if we don’t want them to suspect something.”
The idea that she would change displeased Aiden. He loved her as she was, and he hated that she had to become someone new to be with him.
“My father has spoken with you once, and he’s too haughty to look at a bohemian with attention. My mother could be an issue, but she has a trusting heart, so I don’t think she’d question you,” he explained, hoping it would reassure her.
“Still, I will need to know at least the most basic of rules.”
Wanting to distract her from her concerns, Aiden took her hand with a mischievous smile. “If we are going for the basics, maybe you should be introduced to hand-kissing.”
He kissed her hand as solemnly as a gentleman would. Then he turned it palm up before dropping his lips to the inside of her wrist. Slowly, he went up and up her arm, caressing her with his lips. He’d never get over how soft her skin was or how intoxicating her scent was. Leisurely, he explored her like this, smiling when she jolted away from him, tickled by the teasing graze of his tongue. Before he had even reached the fold of her elbow, she impatiently grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss. She gave him everything she had, pressing herself, begging for more, demanding it. For her own comfort, he moved back and tried to reason with her.
“We can’t, Ama. Not so soon after.”
She protested with a moan, and with her hand, she grabbed his member. It was hard as stone already, and when he looked down, he saw she could barely close her fingers around it. Aiden tried to resist, but she grazed it gently with her thin fingers, the ring catching a ray of light from the candles. It became clear to him that his blood was no longer dispatched to his brain.
“You’ll be gentle,” she negotiated. “Please, we have to see if you last longer this time…”
Her audacity made him smile before he moved her hand away. “If I hurt you, you will tell me right away,” he conceded while taking place over her. “We will go slow.”
She sensually bit his chin, then licked the underside of his jaw. God damn it… The day this woman realized how much control she had over him, it would be over. “I quite enjoyed it when you were going fast.”
The little spitfire… His blood warmed up, and he had to remind himself she’d been a virgin moments before. He wasn’t sure that he would last longer this time, either.
He admired her with wonderment, so warm, soft, and flustered under him, looking so incredibly pretty. So utterly his.
As badly as he wanted to be inside of her once more, he didn’t want to hurt her again. He was rather well endowed, and her first time with him had already been painful. Now, she was probably tender and sore, which meant he still had to be mindful of her comfort. But overall, it should be easier. Deciding he had to work her to another peak before entering her, he lowered his lips to the delicate slope of her throat.
He kissed, licked, and nibbled the smooth surface, enjoying the saltiness of her sweaty skin. With one hand, he reached to fondle her breasts, having noticed how very sensitive she was there. One of those days, he’d try to make her come solely from teasing her beautiful nipples. But not tonight, though. Tonight, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
His mouth left her throat to drop to the perky tip he’d been rolling between his thumb and index, feeling the roughness of it with his tongue. She was undulating and panting under him, chasing something, wanting more.
His hand lowered to her center, wanting to make sure she was ready. He couldn’t hold back a groan when he felt how wet she was, his fingers drenched with her arousal. Carefully, he slipped two fingers inside of her, reaching as far as he could before pulling them out.
“Aiden, please,” she begged, reaching boldly for his shaft. He clenched his teeth, trying to contain the pleasure she brought, and when she tightened her hold on him, his hips jerked uncontrollably.
“Are you sure you aren’t too sore?” he insisted, praying to every god he’d heard of she would say yes.
“Yes, I want you again.”
Not waiting for her to change her mind, Aiden positioned himself over her, gently nudging her hand to release him. He grabbed himself and aligned his erection with her opening. As he was about to push in, she put her hands on his chest to shove him away. He stopped, worried she’d decided against another session.
Instead of finding her distraught, he understood she was trying to see what was happening between them, to look at where their bodies would join. He indulged her curiosity and lifted himself on his hand, bending a knee for better stability. Inspired by her, he looked too, as he slowly, carefully, slid inside her inviting channel.
There wasn’t as much resistance as before, but she was still ridiculously tight, and he feared he might spill early. Nothing in his entire life had prepared him for the pleasure she brought him. He couldn’t say if it was because she was particularly warm, tight, and soft or because of his love for her. It was a mix of both, he figured. This was heaven because it was her .
He was almost entirely in when he heard her take a sharp breath through clenched teeth. He stopped his advance instantly and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Are you all right, love?”
“Yes, it’ll pass. It feels much better than the first time.”
The both of them looked down again to where he was buried in her, and Aiden slowly pulled out, noticing how his thick length was shiny with her arousal, before thrusting back in until it disappeared entirely inside of her. The sight made them both moan.
At this point, Aiden wasn’t even sure that a year-long honeymoon would be enough. He’d need many more years by her side before the untamable lust he felt for her was reduced to an acceptable amount.
Listening to her attentively, he did his best to spare her of any discomfort. Thanks to his efforts, the pain seemed to dissipate, and Amalia rolled her hips in rhythm under him, her sensual instinct taking control. He should have known that her hips would be lethal, especially after the Draba she’d graced him with.
Still with her comfort in mind, he tried to keep it soft and gentle. But the fierce beauty under him had decided otherwise. She was already learning how to make him lose his mind, her hands gripping and clawing his back, her mouth reaching every spot she could, kissing his jaw, licking his collarbone, biting his shoulder… God, she was so perfect.
This. This was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. And what a life it would be.
The more she demanded, the more he gave. And they were soon covered in sweat, their hips crashing into each other as Aiden took her hard with deep, rapid, and long thrusts.
Before he could prepare for it, she came with a surprised cry, her intimacy clenching around his shaft, making it impossible for him not to follow her in ecstasy. Holding her tightly against him, he released himself inside of her with a climax that seemed to melt his bones. Her pulsating channel milked him to the last drop, leaving him spent and disoriented.
Trying to reclaim control over his mind, he remained on top of her. This was insane. He wanted this to never end. He wanted to spend the rest of his life in this bed with her, doing this over and over.
Eventually, he summoned enough of his remaining strength to push himself away from her, and dropped to the side, properly exhausted. She wriggled her way to him and pressed her delectable curves against him. Panting and covered in sweat, they laid in each other’s arms. He hadn’t been able to last for as long as he’d wished, but he had no reason to be ashamed of his performance since he’d made her cry out before spending himself.
He was still recovering, staring at the ceiling when he noticed that her breathing had become calm and steady. When he turned to look down at her, he saw she had fallen asleep. This opportunity allowed him to admire her features. He took in the shape of her arched eyebrows, the tiny beauty spots here and there, her dense eyelashes, the appealing curve of her lips…
She frowned slightly, mumbled something inaudible, and moved closer to him with a shiver. Careful not to wake her up, he pulled the covers over them and delicately embraced her again. A few candles were still burning, and Aiden watched his fiancée sleep until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
His last thought, right before Morpheus claimed him, was that he must be the luckiest man in England. That would explain why he would have the honor of marrying such a magnificent woman.
She’d become his wife, his countess, his duchess… Together, they’d lead the happiest life, have the most perfect children, and grow old.
Unless destiny had another plan.
I almost, almost , shared Clair de Lune with you, by Debussy, which won’t happen for another 100 years. I was like, “fuck it”, but then I thought that it would be a shame to ruin my nice streak of songs that are from before 1790 :(
Here comes the song I settled with, still super romantic, and very much known: Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068: II. Air, by Johann Sebastian Bach.
【23】The Worthingtons
Sonata for 2 Pianos in D major, K.448/375a: II. Andante, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
The Duke of Leeds stepped out of his four-horse carriage, straightened his coat and his jacket, adjusted his hat, then moved to knock on the door before him.
As he waited for someone to open, he took a moment to look around. Even if he was in the wealthy neighborhood of Bristol, his ridiculous coach seemed out of place. The lacquered ebony, the gold decorations, the two footmen and the driver with their red liveries… It was all too much. His decision to travel in it had been solely to impress the people he was here to visit. But now that he stood in front of their door, it seemed ridiculous.
His hosts were wealthy and had an essential place in the British aristocracy – a barony. Admittedly, it was nothing close to his dukedom, but their peers held the baron in high esteem. Which was why Aiden couldn’t help but try to dazzle them.
After all, he was here to spend some time with the family of his prospective bride. Everything had to unfold perfectly.
The door finally opened, and the butler, after a moment of perplexity, bowed when he recognized the coat of arms on the coach behind him.
“Your Grace. We were expecting you tomorrow.”
“I finished my business in London earlier than planned,” Aiden explained, irritated to have to justify himself. “I thought Lord and Lady Worthington wouldn’t mind. Nor would Lady Harriet.”
The butler realized he had overstepped and, with the utmost respect, he invited him in. He took his coat and hat, then asked him to wait in the hall while he went to announce his arrival to the family.
Jaded, Aiden looked around at the abundantly decorated hall. The room was larger than he would have expected. The floors were covered in Italian marble, the walls overloaded with paintings, tapestries, and mirrors. Most of the light came from two floor-to-ceiling windows on each side of the front door. These were enough to light up the room, but the place was also filled with candles on one overly large crystal chandelier and several candelabra.
He should have guessed beforehand about the extravagance of the family. The baron was always dressed in rich, vivid colors, parading around like a peacock, and his wife was always wearing the largest, most ostentatious jewels.
Aiden was finding the whole thing to be inelegant, and the need to exhibit one’s wealth was of poor taste. He winced when he remembered the monstrosity he had been traveling in.
Before he could think too much about it, the butler came back to accompany him to a large parlor nearby. The decor there matched the pretentious design of the entrance hall.
Lady Worthington was sitting on a sofa, a fan in her hand. Her young son was reading a book in a chair, while the daughter, Lady Harriet, was sitting in front of the piano as if she had just been playing. Aiden didn’t recall hearing anything while he had waited, so he imagined they had quickly assumed strategic positions.
All three got up as he entered, and Lady Worthington quickly came to him. “Your Grace! What a delightful surprise. We thought you would arrive tomorrow.” Before he could explain the reasons for his earliness, she continued. “I’m afraid Lord Worthington is out, calling on a dear friend of his.”
“As disappointed as I am to have missed your husband, I have to admit that having you two delightful ladies to myself is consolation enough.” The vain flattery didn’t miss delighting Lady Worthington, who giggled like a maiden.
“Harriet,” she called, turning her attention to her daughter. “Won’t you come and greet his Grace?”
The young lady advanced slowly, visibly shy, and came before Aiden. She saluted him with a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace, what a great honor to have you here with us.”
Aiden looked at the girl. He had met her at a ball, earlier during the Season, and had found her to be particularly pleasant on the eye. Her light blond hair was always styled with meticulous care, and her dresses were chosen rigorously to reveal enough of her pale skin without seeming vulgar. Her bearing was impeccable and her manners flawless.
They had only conversed together twice, but she seemed to be well-balanced and easygoing. She practiced the piano and the harp with an undeniable talent and could speak French fluently. She was a little too young for his taste, barely over nineteen, but Aiden knew all the best wives were snatched early, often during their first season.
He smiled at Lady Harriet and took her hand to place a chaste kiss on her gloved fingers. “Trust me, Lady Harriet, the pleasure is all mine.” The girl tensed but still gave him a smile. After another curtsy, she went to sit on the sofa next to her mother.
“And this is my son, Lucian,” Lady Worthington introduced, gesturing toward the boy. The son diligently stopped reading to come salute him, still holding the thick book.
“What do you have there?” Aiden asked after they’d shaken hands.
The little man, who had the same green eyes as his father, moved the book to expose its cover to Aiden. “ The Art of War ? Isn’t it a little too boring for a boy your age?“
The boy – Lucian, was it? – seemed surprised by the attention he was receiving, apparently used to be ignored. If Aiden remembered correctly, the family had an older son, living an expensive life of debauchery in London, and two older daughters, married to earls. Given the age difference between Lady Harriet and the boy, who seemed to be around twelve, it must have been a surprise pregnancy.
“To be honest, I find it more interesting than The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire ,” Lucian answered. It wasn’t every day Aiden met a child more versed than him in such matters, so the duke looked down at the boy with surprise.
“Hmm, I should imagine so. I’ve only read the first volume, but Gibbon nearly bored me to death.”
“I’ve read all three, your Grace. It doesn’t get better.”
Amused by the little man’s blasé expression, Aiden offered him a nod, allowing him to go back to his reading.
Joining the ladies instead, he sat down in the armchair facing them and tried to think of something to say. Lady Worthington had a stiff smile plastered on her face, and Lady Harriet was desperately avoiding eye contact, looking down at her hands twisting on her lap. The situation was so unnatural that he couldn’t help but wonder why he was here.
His mother.
His mother was harassing him to find a bride. She had been doing so ever since his father died four years ago, and the dukedom had fallen on Aiden’s shoulder. She was worried he would never produce an heir, or that it would be too late for her to meet them by the time he decided to do so.
His own father had been well in his forties when he had gotten married, so were many of his peers, but his dear mother wouldn’t let it go.
However, he had to admit that it wasn’t the real reason why he was sitting here, in this over-decorated parlor. He was there because he wanted to prove to himself that he had moved on.
She didn’t matter anymore, and she didn’t influence his life any longer. Not after more than five years. That was the sole reason for him to be sitting here, courting a woman twelve years younger than him.
How could someone he had only known for two months wreck his life so completely?
Aiden bitterly dismissed the thought.
It seemed to have been a lifetime ago, and he blamed it on his foolishness. He had thought himself a man, but apparently, his twenty-five-year-old self had been a naïve boy, unprepared for the challenge that Amalia Romero posed. Before he could stop it, images of the wretched woman stormed his mind. Amalia smiling, laughing, fooling around, panting under him, naked…
Thank God Lady Worthington pulled him out of his head. “How was your trip from London, your Grace?”
Aiden welcomed the distraction, and they entertained themselves with an empty conversation about the state of the roads, the weather, and various meaningless subjects. He tried to include Lady Harriet in it, questioning her opinion on different points. Alas, the girl only responded with as few words as she could, and focused back on her lap, where her hands were nervously fidgeting.
Aiden tried not to sigh. Not all nineteen years old women were like this, right? No. Some of them showed a bit of spirit. Some were bold and strong-minded. Some of them wouldn’t hesitate to go against him and challenge him. Feeling his mind drift to Amalia again, he tried to focus his interest on the beautiful Harriet Worthington.
She was indeed a great beauty, with her porcelain skin, her fair head, and blue eyes — the perfect English beauty, fragile and delicate. To add to her splendid exterior, she had the ideal temper for him. Since childhood, she had been prepared to fulfill her tasks as the wife of a man of his rank. She knew how to be the perfect hostess, entertain guests, manage a household… She had been disciplined and knew how to conduct herself. How to stay in her place. In sum, she would be the perfect duchess.
She would bear him the sons he needed, and with time, he was sure she would open up and become more forward.
A tray was brought to them, and they drank their tea in silence. It seemed that every subject had come up, and he didn’t know what to say anymore.
Aiden hated this tension. If possible, he would merely propose to the girl, leave, and come back in a few weeks to marry her. However, there were rules to be followed, and they had to bend to them. Also, it was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. He had to be sure that he wasn’t making a mistake. Unlike the first time.
Maybe he could take his leave now and call again the next day? In the meantime, he would come up with a list of things to talk about and questions to ask his soon-to-be betrothed. He was about to get up when the door opened with great energy.
“Your Grace!” said the newcomer, Lord Worthington himself. “What a privilege it is to have you here in our modest home.”
Aiden tried not to look around, showing the baron what he thought of the “modesty” of their home. He stood up and shook the man’s hand. Worthington paused and noticed how tense the atmosphere was.
“Harriet, my dove, would you play us some piano, to alleviate the moods?”
The young woman nodded before elegantly moving to the grand piano. She removed her gloves, set them aside, and sat on the stool, carefully arranging her skirts under her. She chose a harmonious melody, and Aiden noticed she hit every note perfectly.
The baron and he spoke about the house of the Lords, which they both attended, politics, the British people… When the subjects seemed to dry out, Aiden excused himself and moved to Lady Harriet.
“Do you know any four-hands pieces?”
“I know a few, your Grace,” she interrupted her song to answer.
Understanding what he wanted, she moved to the right side of the seat, and he sat on her left. She moved as far as she could on the bench, as if not to touch him. They agreed on what to play, and she gave the start, her hands light and gracious, pushing the keys with finesse. Aiden began at his cue, and they played the song to completion without a single mistake.
At the last note, Lord and Lady Worthington enthusiastically applauded. “What a perfectly assorted duet!” Lady Worthington claimed. “Please, another one!”
Aiden suggested another piece to Lady Harriet, and she accepted, amenable. They executed this one too, and even though they showed great affinity in their music, he couldn’t help but think they were not a perfectly assorted duet. Every time one of his hands accidentally touched hers, she tensed and moved it away. As soon as they finished, the baron and baroness cheered again. Swiftly, Aiden stood up and took a few steps back, not wanting to indulge in a third piece. Lady Harriet slipped her gloves on, and Aiden accompanied her back to the sofa.
Lady Worthington discreetly elbowed her husband, urging him to say something. Once he understood what this was about, the man cleared his throat. “Your Grace, since music seems to be so close to your heart, would you do us the honor of joining us, tomorrow night? We are attending a concerto, and you would be most welcomed in our private box.”
Aiden didn’t need to think long about his answer. After all, he was here to spend some time with them. “I will gladly accept. Should I come to fetch you all, so we can go together?” He saw the eyes of the baroness sparkle with joy.
They agreed on a time for Aiden to come, and after some more small talk, he took his leave, refusing their invitation to join them for dinner.
What on earth could have happened for Aiden, so amazingly in love back then, to despise Amalia to this extent? → Theories here ←
One of the four-hands pieces Aiden plays with the pretty and shy Lady Harriet is Sonata for 2 Pianos in D major, K.448/375a: II. Andante, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart .
【24】Quiet Sapphires
String Quartet No. 62 in C Major, Op. 76 No. 3, Hob. III:77 “Emperor”: II. Poco adagio, cantabile, by Franz Joseph Haydn
On the way back to his hotel, Aiden looked at the city’s streets unfolding outside his coach. He was staying at the Grand Hotel, close to the baron’s terrasse. He had reserved the grand suite for a few days, unsure how long he would be in Bristol.
They arrived, and he waited for the footman to open the door. At a rapid pace, he crossed the main hall, dismissing curtsies and flatteries from the hotel’s employees. Climbing the steps two at a time, he reached his suite with haste, and dismissed his valet after asking for a bath to be prepared.
Going to the bedroom, he tugged at his tie until it became loose and removed it. He partially undressed, throwing his jacket and waistcoat on the floor, before heading to the tray of alcohol. After he’d settled on what he was in the mood for, he poured himself a drink.
His next destination was the French doors that led to the balcony, which he opened to access the two low seats and coffee table there. He sat down in one of the chairs, took a sip, and looked at the people coming and going, four stories below.
He was in a bitter mood. This entire afternoon, he’d thought about her . Despite all this time convincing himself he was over Amalia, she was still haunting him. It was ridiculous to think that even after so long, she still obsessed him. She was so deeply carved into his mind, he couldn’t get rid of the wretched woman. His interest in her may have shifted from love to revenge, but she still lingered in his thoughts.
A knock on the door pulled Aiden out of his dark thoughts. He finished his drink in two gulps and left the balcony to return into the suite to see who was at the door.
There were several maids and a footman, carrying buckets of hot water. He allowed them in, and they went straight to the bathroom. Aiden vaguely watched them work while he poured himself another generous dose of gin.
The maids left after they’d curtsied, and the valet remained before the door, his posture impeccable. “Will there be anything else, your Grace?” Aiden dismissed him with a hand gesture and went to the bathroom, his glass in hand.
He undressed, leaving his clothes on the marble floor, and entered the pedestal tub with his gin. He welcomed the warm water, relaxing his sore muscles.
He hated to travel in a carriage, preferring to be on horseback. Even though his vehicle was of the greatest manufacture, the roughness of the journey was too much for him. He felt like an old man, his back aching, his articulations sore…
His fingers mindlessly drifted on the surface of the water, his eyes distractedly looking at the way it moved. There must be something that could heighten his mood, to make him stop thinking about Amalia. His mind drifted to the last time he had been in a tub. It was barely twenty-four hours ago, with the lovely Lady Bowford.
His trip to London had been for business purposes, but he always managed to save some time for leisure. Especially where Lady Helen Bowford was concerned. She had an insatiable appetite and knew no boundaries when it came to satisfying her needs. He smiled as he recalled the mess they had made during their bath together.
The images of their lustful encounter filled his mind, and he felt the familiar swelling of his prick. Deciding he should entertain himself, he finished his drink and set it aside. Sending his hand under the water, he grabbed his hardening length and massaged it up and down, adding more pressure when he reached the tip. With his closed eyes, he thought of Helen. Her lovely mouth, her tongue on him, sucking the cum out of him. She was a peculiar creature with many fantasies. One of them was to be bound and let him decide her fate. He’d come to learn that with her, the rougher it was, the more she enjoyed it.
So Aiden thought of that. He recalled images of her exposed body, her sighs of pleasure as he’d tied her to the bed. He wasn’t particularly into that sort of thing, but he certainly enjoyed being in charge. The rhythm of his hand increased. Almost as if he was there, he could see Helen, her submission as he’d slipped his cock in her mouth, reaching deep into her throat, her moans when he’d made her come with his fingers… He remembered how she’d begged him to fill her needy cunt, to fuck her hard from behind… The tension was building up, and he was getting closer to his release.
The alcohol was slowly making its effect, numbing his mind, blurring his thoughts. Without him realizing it, his mind drifted. He lost control of his fantasy. Helen’s straight, strawberry blond hair changed, and she now had dark, abundant curls. Her pale freckled skin turned tanned and spotless, as her generous and soft breast was now more humble, but round and firm.
He swore when he recognized the woman his mind had conjured and tried to go back to the delectable Lady Bowford. It wasn’t working. He could only think of Amalia, or at least what he recalled of her after all these years. He was too close to his release to stop his hand, but he tried hard not to think of the bohemian. Of her scent, her moans, her tight little—
With a savage roar, he came in long, white-hot jets that got lost in the water, his cum seeming to emanate from his spine, leaving him panting and weak. Frustrated, he moved out of the tub with anger and wrapped a towel around his hips.
As he crossed the living room, he snatched the bottle of gin before going to his chambers. Since nothing seemed to work to take her out of his mind, he might as well have no mind at all.
When Aiden woke up, the sun was already high in the sky, and the brightness of the room burned his retinas. The excruciating pain raging inside his skull made him growl, as he still struggled to accustom his eyes to the light. When he tried to move, he realized his naked body was tangled in the sheets. He vaguely remembered having had tumultuous dreams.
Damned be that woman…
He hadn’t thought about her that much in nearly two years. But apparently, the mere idea of getting engaged again was enough to make him relapse into the whirlwind that was Amalia Romero.
Painfully, he lifted himself and sat with his feet on the ground. On the nightstand, the bottle of gin was lying on its side, an inch away from rolling to the floor. He took it to examine if there was any liquid left. Alas, the bottle was desperately empty. Adamant to find something else to drink, he clumsily rose to his feet and went to the main room of the suite, not taking the time to slip his robe on.
As he walked, he stretched his limbs, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. He reached the tray of liquors and lifted various bottles until he found one to his satisfaction. The French doors that led to the balcony had been closed, so he opened them, went outside, and sat down with his bottle of rum.
With his head on the back of the chair and his eyes closed, he focused on the muffled sounds of the street. The weather was unusually clement, especially for the middle of May. A chilly breeze was blowing, but the warmth of the sun felt good on his aching body. It offered a pleasant distraction from his headache. He stayed there a while, sipping now and then on the bottle.
A knock came from inside the suite, and without moving or even opening his eyes, he invited the person in. The door opened, followed by the unmistakable sound of a trolley being pushed in. The timid voice of a maid came to his ears.
“Your Grace, would you like me to do the service?”
“Bring me some coffee. Then you can leave.” He listened to the girl getting busy, and when he heard her footsteps come toward him, he opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden burst of light. Only then did he remember he was naked. With one hand, he cupped himself, mumbling a curse. Maids in such hotels had probably seen way worse than a naked man with a hangover. Still, he felt bad about imposing his nudity on her in such a manner.
He watched the woman put down his cup of coffee on the table next to him. It was clear she was mortified by his accouterment – or lack thereof. Her hands were slightly trembling as she served him his coffee, her eyes peering quickly at his exposed body.
“Have my valet bring me something for my headache,” he told the maid once she was done. She agreed with a nod and fled the suite.
Putting down the bottle, he took his coffee and drank it, enjoying the bitter taste of the brew. A few sips in, his mind drifted to his upcoming evening with the ostentatious Lord and Lady Worthington, and the amiable Lady Harriet.
Tonight after the concerto, on the way back to their house, he would ask for her hand. He knew the baron and the baroness wouldn’t refuse the honor. As for the young lady, she would do what was in her best interest, and accept to become his duchess.
Behind him, he heard his valet discreetly come in and do something on the breakfast trolley. Shortly after, a small glass of medicine diluted in water was handed to Aiden. He took it eagerly and swallowed the disgusting beverage rapidly, following it with a gulp of rum to chase the taste.
“Lambert,” he called, “bring me the box with the rings.” His command was obeyed in an instant, and a flat wooden box was set on the table.
Before he went back to his tidying, Lambert cleared his throat. “May I ask if your Grace wishes me to choose a pair of pants for the day?”
Not fooled by the subtleness of his valet, Aiden agreed and stood up. He stretched, groaned, and grimaced. He was getting too old for this. Alcohol excess wasn’t as easy to recover from as it used to be. Lambert rapidly came back and handed Aiden a pair of gray breeches. He slipped them on, buttoned them halfway up, and sat down again. While the valet returned to whatever he was doing, Aiden took the box and opened it to look at the rings sitting inside.
Upon departing from London, he hadn’t met with Lady Harriet for long enough to know which ring would suit her best. Because of it, he had all the family rings with him in Bristol. He looked at all eighteen rings and tried to imagine them on Harriet’s delicate hand. She was slender and dainty. So he didn’t want a ring that would be too large. It would be too much – tasteless, even. He certainly hoped she hadn’t inherited the terrible and ostentatious tastes of her parents. Her eyes were blue. Maybe a sapphire?
He took out the two rings that matched his criteria and looked at them. Both were cast in gold. One of the sapphires was purer, but the other one was larger. One had the main stone surrounded by tiny diamonds, and the other one had a solitary stone, but the band was covered in the same tiny diamonds. Angling them against the sun, Aiden examined their shininess. An annoyed sigh blew from his lungs. He had no idea which one he would choose.
The last time, he had known which one to pick after one glance at the content of this box. He had chosen a ring bold and fierce, much like the woman he had destined it to. It angered him to think that because of his stupidity, a jewel that had been in his family for generations had probably been pawned off to some questionable seller. Turning his attention back to the sapphire rings, he hesitated again.
“Lambert!” As if he had been near all along, the servitor appeared. Aiden showed him the two rings. “Which one should I offer Lady Harriet?” Lambert examined the jewels with attention.
“Is the lady more of an exuberant nature or is she more… dare I say, quiet?” Lambert tactfully asked.
“Definitely quiet.”
“Then, your Grace, I would go with the clear, solitary stone with the diamonds on the band.”
Aiden looked at the ring for a moment, trying to see what his valet had seen in this particular one. Since the nuances didn’t matter that much, he put the other one back in the box before handing it to Lambert. Worried he might drop it, he slid the chosen ring on. It barely even passed the first knuckle of his little finger.
With a contented sigh, he sat back to enjoy the sun. His headache was almost gone now, and the weather was, for once, formidable. He could hear Lambert taking care of his usual routine, and when he reopened his eyes, a plate with toasts and ham had been set on the table, along with a fresh cup of coffee.
Right there, comfortably settled in the sun, Aiden decided to have a calm day. After the last few weeks he’d had, he deserved a break. So, instead of doing anything at all, he focused on recovering from his hangover, spending most of his day on the luminous balcony. His reluctance for the evening to arrive only grew worse, but he couldn’t get out of his arrangements.
Tonight, he’d endure whatever concerto they had invited him to, then ask for the lady’s hand. Soon, he would marry her and start a new life. With his bride by his side, he would bury the memory of his first fiancée for good. Finally, after all this time, he would officially move on from her betrayal.
The song is kinda sad, again, because all this is kinda sad: String Quartet No. 62 in C Major, Op. 76 No. 3, Hob. III:77 “Emperor”: II. Poco adagio, cantabile, by Franz Joseph Haydn .
【25】Haunting Memories
Adagio in G minor, Tomaso Albinoni
As much as he tried not to let his mind drift back to Amalia, his upcoming engagement constantly brought her back. He’d thought he’d been over her for years, but his resentment for her was still strong, proving his assumptions had been false.
It seemed the rage he felt every time he thought about her would never diminish. The pure shock he’d experienced that fateful morning was still painfully clear in his mind. It would never completely go away, forever lingering in the back of his head. After all, he’d never been so humiliated and crushed in his life. Nothing could ever surpass what she’d done to him, which explained why he’d never loathe another person as much as her.
Unable to stop himself, he recalled for the umpteenth time the events of his doom.
He remembered waking up happy and satiated, seeking her. She’d agreed to become his wife some hours ago, so it was understandable he’d been disappointed to find her gone. She wasn’t at his side anymore, the scent of her still on the sheets. The evening before, she had explained her people were leaving in the morning because of the duke. Because of that, she’d left for her camp before their departure, to tell them she wouldn’t follow this time. But she was coming back to him as soon as she could, so they could set his plan in motion and leave for Scotland. The sun was still low, and he decided to get up to prepare things for their romantic endeavor.
After he’d shaved, he rinsed his face. Looking up in the mirror, he noticed the stupid grin lingering on his lips. Never had he been happier in his life. Amalia would become his, in every possible way. Shouting came from outside his bedroom, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. Curious, he went to see what was happening and found the household frantically running around in absolute chaos. He grabbed the arm of a footman passing by and asked him what the ruckus was about.
“We were robbed, Milord! They came during the night and plundered the manor!”
“Who? Who came in?”
“We aren’t sure, Milord. Mr. Appleton was found with a blow to his head, and we think he saw them. But he hasn’t woken up yet. Your father—” The footman paused, embarrassed. Aiden tightened his hold on the man’s arm, silently ordering him to keep talking. “Your father, his Grace, thinks it was the doing of the bohemians, Milord.”
It was ridiculous. With his father’s tight security measures, there was no way they could have gotten in without anybody noticing. Unless… Unless they’d had someone inside to unlock a door or a window.
Dismissing the idea, Aiden left the footman to seek his family. There must be a logical explanation for this mess. He found them gathered in his father’s office, still wearing their nightclothes, their robes slipped on hastily. His sisters seemed terrified, his father was yelling angrily, and his mother was trying to calm everyone down.
Aiden came in, hoping they would help clarify things. When his father saw him, he came at him, pointing a threatening finger toward him. “I told you!” he roared, his index trembling with rage. “I told you these people were dangerous! But did you listen, you imbecile?”
Aiden was confused. Why was he the recipient of his father’s anger? “This is absurd. I had nothing to do with this!”
It seemed to infuriate his father even more. The old man turned red with wrath. “Do not lie to me, boy! The servants told us everything! They told us you have been entertaining some kind of relationship with one of those barbarians! And now she helped them get inside and take everything!”
Aiden did his best to keep his composure. His family knew about his summer with Amalia. This wasn’t good at all. It would complicate things for certain. Aiden didn’t fight his genitor’s accusations. There was no point denying the truth anymore. He didn’t know how many people had talked, but surely enough of them to trump anything he might attempt to sell. He wouldn’t humiliate himself by entertaining an exposed lie.
“I can assure you Amalia had nothing to do with this,” he explained instead. “How on earth could she have helped them inside?”
His father’s exasperation wasn’t settling – on the contrary. The duke grabbed his second-born by the arm and pulled her in front of his defying son. “Tell him! Tell him what you told us, Annabelle!”
The look on Annabelle’s face worried Aiden greatly. She seemed heartbroken, her eyes full of tears, and she muttered an apology before confessing. “I… I told them there was a woman with you last night. I heard her… When you two were—”
Before she could give any more details, Aiden intervened. “Because she was with me doesn’t mean she is responsible for any of this!”
His father let go of Annabelle and gripped Aiden’s collar. “Then who do you suppose opened the window in the music parlor?”
Aiden had nothing to answer to that, but he was sure in his heart that Ama wasn’t the cause of this. She wasn’t like that. Before he could say anything, a footman burst in.
“Your Grace! Mr. Appleton is regaining consciousness!”
Moving impressively fast for a man his age, the duke left the room to follow the servant. Aiden and the rest of the family were on his tail. They entered the music parlor where Appleton had been found and was still recovering on a couch. Several of the maids and footmen were surrounding him, so the duke chased them away, gesticulating and shouting.
“Appleton!” the duke called, leaning on the injured butler. “Tell us! Was it those filthy bohemians?” The servant tried to straighten up, wanting to endorse his role as an irreproachable butler even here.
“It was them indeed, your Grace. About a dozen of them.” Appleton was visibly trying to recall what had happened, his brows furrowed, his eyes unfocused. “I wasn’t sleeping well, and I heard a strange noise. Something had fallen. I came out to see what it was, and found them here, about to leave through the window. Before I could warn anyone, I felt a blow to the back of my head. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them, your Grace.”
“Nonsense! You alone, against twelve of those maniacs? You stood no chance! At this point, you are even lucky to be alive!”
The duke paced back and forth, thinking intently as Aiden stood there, uneasy. He had a bad feeling about all this. He knew her. She couldn’t have been a part of it. She wasn’t like this. Reluctantly, he went to Appleton.
“Tell me. Was she with them?” he asked, despising the apprehension he was feeling. Amalia couldn’t have done it, so he shouldn’t even feel compelled to ask.
The butler wiggled nervously. In an instant, the duke was back at their side, waiting for the answer too.
Appleton finally capitulated. “I’m afraid she was, Milord…” Aiden was about to call him a liar when he continued. “She was the first one I saw when I came in here. The others were dressed in darker tones, but she was wearing a blue dress. A light one, with lace.”
The world collapsed around Aiden.
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
They were going to marry. He had just offered her the world on a plate. She’d wanted their union as much as he had. The love she held for him was as powerful as the one he had for her. She couldn’t have faked it, it was all too real and poignant. Two people had never been more meant for one another than them.
He was trying to keep his head straight and not spiral into these lies. He knew the truth. Deep in his heart, he knew it wasn’t her. She couldn’t have done this to him. But everything was here. All the proof he needed. This was even the room she knew the best, the one they’d spent hours in, which would explain why she’d chosen it as an entry point. No. He wouldn’t believe it. She would come back and they would leave together, get married, and spend the rest of their lives laughing about this.
Admittedly, the fact that their relationship had been exposed was complicating things. Maybe they would just stay aboard until his father died. It wouldn’t take too long, and anyway, he could wait an eternity if it was by her side.
His father was yelling again, ordering the servants to make an inventory of what had been stolen, terrorizing the personnel… Aiden needed a quiet place to think. He left the center of the commotion and went to his study. After he’d locked the door behind him, he leaned against it, trying to think.
Amalia wouldn’t betray him like this. Appleton had either lied or mistaken her with someone else. She wasn’t a thief. A small sardonic voice reminded him that the first time they had met, she hadn’t hesitated to nick his pouch.
However, it was different now. With everything he’d given her, their future together, their love, there was no way she would choose this path of corruption.
All these thoughts preoccupied him so much, it took him a while to notice the book on the floor, thrown in the middle of the room. It was the book in which he hid the key to his safe. With a terrible presentiment, he hastily went to check under his desk, only to find the safe utterly empty, its door wide open, the key still in the lock.
Aiden tried to make sense of this. No other books had been touched. Only this one, as if they’d known where to find the key. No one, not even the household, knew where to find this key. He made sure to be alone every time he retrieved it. The memory of the one time he hadn’t been so careful came back to him, and he froze.
Amalia knew.
The night of the party, when he had dragged her here, she’d seen him get the key and open the safe.
Dismayed, he let himself slide to the floor, a cabinet on his back. The evidence was everywhere, and the clues were overwhelming.
Indifferent to the agitation outside, he remained in his study, sitting on the floor, letting the truth sink in.
She had betrayed him, after all…
All this time, she’d been using him, gaining his confidence, learning everything she could about the place, preparing for this. And he’d believed it. All of it. He’d been so eager, so infatuated, that he’d truly thought she loved him.
For countless minutes, his mind went back and forth. One instant, he’d think this was all a misunderstanding, then he’d try to accept the fact she’d played him. And she’d done so with even greater skills than the one she had with her violin.
“The violin!” he blurted out loud, struck by an epiphany.
If Amalia hadn’t truly left him, the violin he’d offered her would still be here. If she’d really intended to come back, she wouldn’t have bothered with it.
As if possessed, he stood up and exited his study, almost running to the music parlor. On his way there, he crossed the paths of several servants. They gave him strange looks, but he ignored them, keeping his goal in mind. He entered the room, which was now empty, and went to the cabinet where she always put her instrument away.
The emptiness that his eyes fell upon felt like a capital sentence. Trying not to despair, he looked around the whole room in search of her case. He turned the entire parlor upside-down, needing to find the bloody violin for his sanity.
When it became undeniably clear that she’d taken it with her, Aiden’s doubts, his sorrow, his discouragement… they all morphed into pure rage.
He couldn’t pretend anymore. She’d lied, betrayed, stolen… The woman had used him for weeks – months! She had made him fall utterly in love with her, and then had stomped on his heart and his pride, making a joke out of him, their story, his feelings…
It became impossible to hold back his devastating emotions, and he let his anger free. Infuriated, he flipped the armchair before him with a resentful roar. Unable to stop himself, he kept going, breaking, throwing, tossing…
He forgot where he was, what he was doing, barely noticed the servants that were now gathering at the parlor’s entrance, and wrecked the room. Ravaging it as she’d ravaged him.
Annihilating the very room where everything had begun.
The room they had spent so many afternoons in.
The room in which he had fallen in love with her.
Their room.
So, I wanted a sad song, cause this is sad, but I also wanted an angry song, cause Aiden is angry. The first one is ridiculously beautiful, so please try it out for real: Adagio in G minor, Tomaso Albinoni.
【26】The Concert
Violin Concerto No.4 in F Minor, Op.8, RV 297, “L’inverno”: I. Allegro Non Molto, by Antonio Vivaldi
The carriage arrived in front of the Worthington residence at the exact time they had agreed on. Aiden was clearly not in the mood for this, not after his afternoon of glum recollections. He had given his word, though, and would endure the upcoming evening with the ostentatious Worthington family.
All three seemed to have been impatiently waiting for him in the hall, because they came out before Aiden could even reach for their door. He invited them in his coach, holding the ladies’ hands as they climbed in. When it was his turn to get in the carriage, he realized they had, once more, chosen strategic places. Lord and Lady Worthington were both sitting on the same bench, leaving him the seat next to Lady Harriet. Holding back a sigh, he sat down next to the young woman and knocked twice on the roof, signaling the driver to go.
“This is a fine vehicle you have here, your Grace,” said the baron, inspecting the inside details with attention. “You must tell me the name of the maker, so we can order an identical one.” It didn’t surprise Aiden that the baron liked the extravagant coach.
“I will make sure to do so. Lady Harriet, could you tell me whose concerto are we attending? I’m afraid I eagerly accepted the invitation, without asking which composer we would enjoy.”
The girl answered with a voice so low he could barely hear it. Before he could ask her to repeat, Lady Worthington intervened. “Vivaldi, your Grace. It is a selection of his best works, including the Four Seasons.”
The revelation displeased Aiden, who hid his discontentment. Ever since her betrayal, he had come to despise the composer’s work. He was her favorite, after all, and he’d heard her perform his pieces countless times. An evening of Vivaldi with the Worthingtons sounded like his very own version of hell.
Apparently noticing his lack of enthusiasm, the baroness felt compelled to continue. “Some of our most illustrious friends attended earlier this month, and they fairly enjoyed it, as I’m sure a man of your tastes will.”
Aiden forced himself to smile. The family’s obsequiousness was slowly starting to annoy him. Once married to their daughter, he would do his best to see them as little as possible. He touched the left pocket of his waistcoat, making sure the ring was still in its place.
Thankfully, the ride to the opera was a short one. The main hall, a vast room decorated in accordance with the opera house’s prestigious reputation, was packed with Bristol’s high society. Aiden was used to navigating through such a crowd, knowing how this whole mingling thing worked. But today, it was more than he was willing to bear. He couldn’t escape it, though, as the Worthingtons did their best to introduce him to everyone they knew while he had Lady Harriet at his arm. They were absurdly proud that the prestigious Duke of Leeds would be their daughter’s escort. Aiden met some acquaintances, and they exchanged a few formalities.
Thankfully, people were asked to find their seats, as the concerto would start soon. When they finally reached the box, Aiden was dearly missing his balcony, the sun, and his bottle of rum.
The Worthington’s box was a small one – it could only hold four seats – but it was ideally placed near the scene. The common etiquette would have required the baron and the baroness to sit in the two chairs at the back and leave Aiden to sit with Lady Harriet in the front. After all, he was courting her, and they had to be chaperoned.
However, with their strategies still at work, Lord and Lady Worthington sat upfront, leaving him behind in the poorly lit part of the box, half-hidden by the red curtains. He helped the young woman to her seat and he sat in his. They conversed, mostly about Vivaldi’s life, until the musicians made their entrance.
The dreary evening took an even worse turn as soon as the orchestra started the first piece. Not only did he dislike how it reminded him of Amalia, he’d heard Vivaldi so much over the years, he knew by heart most of his pieces. The concerto promised to be quite dull. But he wasn’t here for the music. He was here for the pretty blonde on his right.
Aiden couldn’t help but wonder if they would be well suited to each other regarding their intimacy. It wasn’t a requirement for a wife and a husband, so he shouldn’t have worried about such a thing. He only had to honor her enough times for her to bear his heirs. But if they could have some fun doing it, would it not be better?
So far, life had taught him he was alluring. The attention he received from the ladies was irrefutable proof of that. Yes, his dukedom may have been one of the factors of his success with women. But still, he liked to think he wasn’t repulsive. At thirty-one, he believed to be in his prime. He attended several physical activities to keep in shape. He also tried not to overdrink, even if sometimes his demons would get the better of him. Lambert made sure his hair was always styled to the latest fashion, and so were his clothes.
However, he was under the impression that Lady Harriet was impervious to his charms. Maybe she was intimidated by his title. Maybe years of learning to contain herself had forged her to keep her feelings hidden.
If his wife turned out to be disappointing, he would always have Lady Bowford, as well as other willing women to satisfy him. His skills in a bedroom were unquestionable, and finding women who eagerly wanted to indulge in such activities with him was effortless.
Curious anyhow, he removed his gloves and dared to touch Lady Harriet’s arm. He gently grazed the band of exposed skin between her high glove and the sleeve of her dress. She flinched but didn’t move. Going further, he took her hand and undid the small buttons on the side of her wrist. The young beauty was still unmoving, and Aiden couldn’t tell if it was from consent or stupor.
Once he was done with the buttons, he tugged at her fingers, one by one, to remove the glove. It slipped with ease on her arm, and he set it across her lap. For an instant, he enjoyed the smoothness of her hand before turning it around, palm up. Delicately, he stroked the inside of her forearm, marveling at the softness of her young skin. He toyed with her palm, followed the lines on it, teased the crease of her elbow… She was still immobile, except for some small jolts now and then. With his eyes forward to avoid suspicions, Aiden couldn’t see her expressions. But as long as she wasn’t making a move to put an end to his ministrations, he saw no point in interrupting them. It was distracting him from the painfully familiar melodies coming from the stage.
Before he could anticipate it, the first act ended. He let go of Lady Harriet’s hand, cursing himself for not being more attentive. She hastened to put her glove back while Lady and Lord Worthington were busily applauding.
Alas, the baroness turned around before her daughter was done with the buttons. Aiden resented the triumphant look she displayed when she understood what had been happening. He looked at the young woman and nearly swore when he saw her face. The poor thing seemed upset, tears pooling in her eyes. What had he done?
He had underestimated her innocence, the chastity that made her so reluctant. Had he known she was so squeamish, he would never have touched her the way he just had.
Her lack of sensuality wasn’t exactly a problem. He was confident he could debauch her out of her prudishness. But, if she never developed a taste for it, he would just keep it to a minimum and satisfy his desires elsewhere. Once a month, at a strategic moment, was enough to get him the heirs he needed.
The box and the pit emptied, spectators leaving the room for the intermission. Everyone moved to the hall to treat themselves with alcohol and appetizers. Aiden and the Worthingtons did too, and once more the baron and his wife showed him around as if he were a trophy they had won. When a man announced the resumption of the concert, Aiden thanked God for freeing him of this torture, and they went back to their seats.
Two acts followed, and they were slightly better than the first one. Aiden had decided to leave Lady Harriet alone. She had moved the chair slightly further from him, and she was keeping both hands to her right. This was why he didn’t favor virgins, contrary to some of his peers who devoted their lives to claim as many of them as they could. No, these women didn’t know what was good for them, and he didn’t have time to waste teaching them.
Since his future betrothed didn’t interest him anymore, nor did the music, Aiden allowed his mind to drift. He was half asleep when a melody shook him out of it. It was a violin solo, and it moved him to his core. Once more, before he could prevent it, the thought of Amalia resurfaced in his mind.
She loved this piece and had played it often during their afternoons. It was the one that reminded her of stranded lovers, fated to lose and find each other over and over. He could still see her fluid gestures, how she would slide the bow gracefully on her violin’s strings. He remembered how easily she could move her fingers across the strings, making it look effortless. The violinist on the scene was talented, but he remembered the passion that transpired when Amalia played.
The piece ended, and it turned out to be the last one. The concerto was over, which satisfied Aiden. He would be back to his suite and whatever was left in the bottle of rum shortly. People stood up to praise the musicians as the latter bowed to salute their public. Their box joined in the applause, and when it died out, they exited the confined space. Then followed the arduous task of getting back into the carriage. Thankfully, his coach arrived quickly, and they all climbed in.
“Oh, was it not wonderful, your Grace?” Lady Worthington asked once they were on their way.
“It was indeed,” Aiden lied. “Thank you again for inviting me, Lord Worthington.”
Lady Worthington, who was apparently very pleased with the concerto, kept going. “I have to say that I do love the violin. What an extraordinary instrument! Do you play, your Grace?”
“Not anymore, no.”
“Was it in favor of another instrument?”
“No, I merely lost interest in it about five years ago.” This too was another proof that despite everything he’d told himself, he still wasn’t over Amalia’s deception.
“What a shame. Just last Sunday, as we were coming out after attending mass, we saw this bohemian. She played superbly, did she not, husband?”
Aiden straightened up, suddenly interested in the turn of the conversation. The woman had only said it to mention the fact that they were a respectable, church-going family. But it wasn’t the part that mattered to him. A bohemian woman who was remarkable with a violin? That was a topic that interested him.
The baron, who was apparently finding it hard to fight his fatigue, gave his wife the answer she wanted. “She was indeed handling her violin with exceptional agility.”
Lady Worthington dismissed her husband’s answer with a hand gesture. “You probably didn’t even notice she was playing at all!” She bent toward Aiden, as if she had a secret to tell him. “The woman was also very appealing, you see. Most of her audience were men.” Aiden nodded, his mind bubbling at the thought. Could it even be possible? Could she be in Bristol right now?
Vexed, the baron tried to defend himself. “Of course, I noticed. I can even tell you she must make substantial money with her begging, because it was a very fine instrument she had there.”
Yes, it was possible. A bohemian beauty, with the gift of music, and an overly expensive violin? It could be her. Amalia could be in Bristol.
The thought of seeing her again made him vibrate with excitement and rage. In the end, he might face her, make her pay for her treachery. If it was indeed her, he would drag her into the dirt, make her feel all the horrendous things he had been feeling for the past five and a half years. He would ruin her life, destroy her world.
For the first time in ages, Aiden felt alive. He felt as if he’d just awoken from a deep slumber, a numbing lethargy. In his chest, his heart was beating faster, his skin tingling with excitement. The idea of retribution gave him a purpose.
“May I enquire which church you go to?” he asked, masking his thrill.
“We attend the Sunday mass at the Cathedral,” Lady Worthington explained as if there could be no other way. “I imagine you don’t have your habits here. Would you wish to join us tomorrow morning?”
Aiden smiled. She had just given him the perfect opportunity. “I would be honored.”
Once more, the Worthingtons were delighted to have him join one of their mundane outings. Twice in a row? This would surely get people talking, and his interest in Lady Harriet would soon be hot gossip. This time, though, he didn’t offer to pick them up. He already knew he would want to be alone for this ride.
Aiden was perfectly silent during the rest of the way back to Worthington Hall, his mind trying to wrap around the fact that he might see her again. He had given up on the idea four years ago, and he hadn’t realized how badly he still wanted it.
Tomorrow he might see Amalia again. Finally, he would have the opportunity to inflict on her the same misery she’d brought upon him all those years ago. He would find that treacherous bitch and show her she’d hustled the wrong man. She would learn, and if she resisted him, she would hang. What she’d done to him and his family warranted at least that.
Vengeance had never sounded so appealing.
Are you more excited or more worried right now?
Well, I kinda had to share some Vivaldi here. So, this is the song that triggered Aiden: Violin Concerto No.4 in F Minor, Op.8, RV 297, “ L’inverno “: I. Allegro Non Molto, by Antonio Vivaldi. (It’s the Chef’s table song!)
【27】Helpful Drunkards
String quintet in C major op.30-6 /G.326, by Luigi Boccherini.
Aiden was effervescent with impatience, trying not to move too much on the cathedral’s bench because of it. Most of his night had been spent pacing in his suite, but he was barely feeling the effects of his lack of sleep. With all this mess, he hadn’t proposed to Lady Harriet. It had completely slipped his mind. He would find a different occasion to do it. Once this Amalia matter was settled.
He hadn’t attended Mass in at least a decade, and he now remembered why. The never-ending sermons, the judging, the old bigots… He felt extremely out of place. But if his suspicions turned out to be right, it was all worth it. Hell, it was worth a hundred sermons.
To his displeasure, he was seated with the Worthington family on a bench up front, ridiculously close to the preaching Bishop. The family was devoutly listening, drinking in the clergyman’s words. The young son seemed to be as bored as Aiden, struggling to keep his eyes open, slouched in the seat.
The decrepit old Bishop talked about sins, and Aiden recognized himself in many of them. He actually felt a slight tinge of guilt. For an instant, he thought it might be good for his soul to repent now and then, but the idea of having to enumerate all of his immoral conduct seemed like a Sisyphean task. What was even the price to atone for fucking a woman in her ass to make sure she wouldn’t get pregnant with his child? Because he’d done that last week, along with so many other depraved things.
Convinced his soul couldn’t be saved anyway, he endured all this as time was abnormally slow, kneeled when he had to, stood when demanded… He could barely hear what was being said. His mind was thinking of all the scenarios he wanted to play out when he would face Amalia.
Regularly, he had to remind himself it might not be her. After all, bohemians were known for their love of music, as well as their larcenous agility. It could be a different woman, with good dexterity and a stolen violin. Maybe the woman wasn’t even pretty. He knew nothing regarding Lady Worthington’s tastes in women.
When, finally, the Bishop gave the final blessing, Aiden was ready to jump outside. However, he had to keep the appearance of normalcy, so he waited for the Worthingtons and coordinated his steps with their slow pace. They came out of the cathedral’s entrance, and Aiden looked around nervously. There was too much noise to hear any music, and the crowd was too dense to discern anything.
“Milord, will you join us for lunch?” the baroness asked.
“Alas, I’m afraid I have other engagements,” Aiden told her, still looking around. “Tell me, Lady Worthington, that violinist you were talking about, where was she exactly?” The baroness looked at him strangely, not understanding why he would care. Right, his attitude was rather suspicious. Determined to salvage his lack of tact, he invented a lie. “I have a collection of great violins, you see. So, I’m curious to see what your husband called a ‘fine instrument’.”
She seemed to buy his ambiguous explanation, and she told him she had seen the beggar on the south face of the building, near a side entrance. Aiden, trying not to appear suspicious, accompanied the family to their coach and wished them a good day.
As soon as the carriage disappeared around the corner, he moved at a steady pace to the spot the baroness had indicated. The crowd was already getting thinner, and well before he reached it, he saw there was nobody playing the violin there. Not renouncing yet, he circled the entire cathedral.
When he returned to his starting point, he tried to think of reasons for the bohemian not to be here. Maybe she was late. Maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe she was sick… He could come back next week, and perhaps she would be here then.
Could he really stay one more week in Bristol, though?
He had important matters waiting for him at Langston Manor. Staying for one more week to potentially see a woman who might be Amalia seemed like a lot. Especially for a man who pretended to be over the damned woman.
Furious by this waste of time, he stomped his foot. With a quick and heavy pace, he moved to the road to hail a coach. He had preferred not to come with his own carriage, as it wasn’t quite discrete, and he hadn’t wanted to take the risk of scaring Amalia away. After a few seconds of waiting for a cab to pass, Aiden changed his mind, deciding to walk instead.
Without a real purpose, he strolled in the general direction of his hotel. All of his excitement had faded off, and he was suddenly exhausted, his brief night becoming a heavy reality. Nebulously, he walked the animated streets of Bristol, barely paying attention to his surroundings.
A delicious smell pulled him out of his torpor as he was making his way up a narrow alley. He looked around to find the source of it and found a lively pub. A filling meal and a pint of beer seemed like a great idea. Ignoring the strange looks people gave him, he entered the place. It was clear that he wasn’t from this part of town, with his tailored suit and the way he held himself.
He looked around the poorly lit interior and found an empty table to sit at. The ground was sticky under his boots, and the place was filled with smoke of various origins. For a second, he hesitated, wondering if he might catch some lowly disease by eating here. But he eventually sat down, realizing people wouldn’t be here if the place wasn’t trustworthy. He hadn’t been in such a pub in years. A waitress came to take his order, and he didn’t have to wait long before a tall brew and a fuming plate of some kind of stew were set before him. He downed the beer in one go and tried the food. Well, it smelled better than it tasted. He took a few bites and pushed the plate away, signaling the waitress to bring him another pint. The bread she had given him was stale but edible, so he ate it all in three bites.
He had been an idiot for getting his expectations so high. He should have known. Amalia Romero was gone, and he would never see her again. Back then, upon realizing her betrayal, he’d spent over a year looking for her.
As soon as the initial shock had passed, he’d ridden his horse to the camp, only to find a muddy field with some discarded belongings. He’d sat on an abandoned crate, devastated by the ultimate proof that he’d never see her again.
Not willing to give up so soon, wanting to see her again one last time, to make her pay, he interrogated people from the nearby town, to see if anyone knew anything. An entire camp of caravans leaving must have been noticed. If he knew what road they’d taken, he would know where to look next. To his great dissatisfaction, it seemed that the camp had split up, leaving him four possible roads, and seven neighboring towns to investigate.
So, he chose one lead and followed it all the way to the southern coast of England, where some of Amalia’s people had blended with another group of bohemians. Because he knew better than to interrogate them, he infiltrated the place under the pretense of selling imported goods and French wine. After an hour there, selling off the merchandise he’d purchased for the occasion, it became clear to him that she wasn’t there. Not a single member of her family was among the bohemians.
By the time he returned to the starting point, ready to follow another lead, two months had passed, and the people he questioned were forgetting, making it harder for him to progress. His second lead vanished somewhere between Glasgow and Edinburgh after a month of following it. He didn’t know if the Scots were particularly opposed to giving information, or if the one he’d talked to genuinely didn’t know where the bohemians went.
By the third lead, he was slowly despairing, thinking he’d never find her. Too long had passed, and people would presumably not remember enough details to help him out. Still, with the undying resentment he held for her, he did the best he could, going all the way to France.
When he finally found a familiar face, in a small camp near the Loire, all of those months of chasing her became irrelevant. It had all been worth it. He would finally face the wretched woman. His hopes rapidly vanished when he understood that only Amalia’s aunt, Ingrid, was here.
He thought about talking to her, to ask her where he could find Amalia, but he worried she would warn her niece. Aiden was fairly certain that Ama had no idea he was looking for her, trying to find her at any price. If she ever knew, she might take extra measures and become impossible to find for good.
So instead, he’d tried to learn as much as he could without being too suspicious, and had returned to England. After this third failed attempt, he had almost given up. But some part of him was still burning with wrath, demanding to be avenged.
His last hope was Spain. Apparently, the remaining members of the camp had secured themselves a safe passage to the city of Valencia, via ship. Aiden had even found the captain that had sailed them all the way to the Mediterranean sea. After much hesitation, and over a year after she’d left, he’d decided to go. It would be a long journey, but Aiden would know he’d done everything he could to avenge his tarnished dignity.
He was ready, his journey secured and his mind prepared, when his father fell ill. For the sake of his worrying mother and sisters, he delayed his departure. The old duke regularly had one of those illnesses, but he always miraculously recovered. The man had more lives than a damned cat.
When the duke passed away, rattling them all, Aiden knew that his trip to Spain was a thing of the past. Now, he had more urgent matters to take care of. His wild chase through Europe had come to an abrupt ending. All of it had been pointless.
Aiden was remembering his original disappointment, the moment he’d realized he’d never see her again, when he heard a commotion back at the bar. Two men weren’t getting their glasses refilled because they were out of coins. They were arguing with each other in a language that seemed familiar to Aiden. Could it be Romani? One of the men, the less inebriated, turned to the man behind the counter.
“It is all good,” he told him with a thick accent. “We are leaving. We will go back to our camp, get more money, and then we will come and spend it in a friendlier establishment.”
They were going back to their camp . It seemed they were indeed bohemians. Intrigued, Aiden abandoned his beer and inedible stew to approach the two men. They were struggling to put their coats on. The task was arduous for them, especially since one could barely stand.
“Excuse me,” he said with a firm voice. The men turned to him and took a quick glance at his outfit. “I have a few questions.” He took out his wallet and dangled it before their eyes, making the coins within jingle. “I will pay a generous sum for the answers.”
The men’s eyes locked on the pouch, and Aiden knew he would get what he wanted from them. “How many bohemian camps are there around Bristol?”
“At the moment, only one,” said the least intoxicated one.
“And where is it located?”
The man seemed to hesitate, so Aiden opened his pouch and poured some coins on the bar in front of the two men.
“When you get out of the town via the south road, you walk for about three miles, and there is an old house in ruins, and after, a dirt path that goes to the right— No, the left, and then you walk past the woods, and you will reach a clearing. We are there.”
“How many people are in the camp?”
“About a hundred. We have people arriving and leaving often.”
Now for the most critical question of all. “Is there a woman named Amalia among you?”
The two men looked at each other, trying to recall. It mustn’t have been easy, between the blur of the alcohol and the fact that there were so many people there.
“Isn’t the Romero girl named Amalia?” the less inebriated one asked the other.
Upon hearing the name, Aiden’s heart lurched in his chest. The Romero girl… It had to be her. She was truly there. Something lit up in the other man’s eyes and they widened. “Yes! Ama! So very pretty that one.”
She was there. Amalia was right here. At arm’s reach. He’d gone all the way to France, had been willing to go to Spain to get to her, and now he would find her in Bristol, of all places… His excitement the evening before, when he’d first suspected her presence nearby, was nothing compared to the way he was feeling now. He was thrilled, euphoric, ecstatic… She was right here. Right fucking here. He would see her again.
His gratitude for the drunkards knew no bounds, so he emptied the rest of his pouch on the counter before them. From the pile of coins, he took one and handed it to the owner to pay for his meal. Before he left, he asked for his hotel’s directions and stormed out.
Reinvigorated, his mood so high he almost wanted to run, he reached the Grand Hotel. To avoid any waste of time, he asked the stable boys to prepare his horse before entering the building. He went up to his room to put on a more suited outfit. This time, it was for real. He would see her again. Before the day ended, he would reduce her to a life of servitude, to make her pay for her offenses.
While Lambert was taking out his riding outfit, he paced the room, trying to remain calm. His wait was coming to an end after more than five long and restless years… Once dressed, which went fast with Lambert’s efficient help, he checked himself in the mirror. The cut was impeccable, fitting him to perfection. He looked imposing and formidable. Upon seeing him, she would tremble where she stood.
Within minutes, he was back at the stables. After his horse’s reins were handed to him, he climbed on Horus with a supple move and sent him galloping through the streets.
The man’s instructions had been sparse but right, and Aiden easily found the camp. He stopped in the woods, right before the clearing, tied his horse’s reins to a low branch, and moved discreetly to circle the meadow. From the cover of the trees, he assessed the place.
This camp was larger than the one he had seen years ago, but it seemed to be organized the same way. He studied every woman’s face, trying to find her. Several of them were moving away from the caravans, carrying bundles of clothes. Remaining in the shadows, he moved in their direction, careful not to be discovered. He followed them from a distance as they went down a small path and reached a stream. The women scattered along the bank, finding the ideal spots to do their laundry.
“Ama!” one of the women shouted, making Aiden’s heart skip a beat. “Don’t go too far this time.”
“Don’t worry!” a familiar voice yelled back. Aiden’s head whipped toward the second woman. Of her, he could only see the back of her rumpled gray dress and her dark hair. But instantly, he knew without the shadow of a doubt.
It was her.
Amalia…
He forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to move… She was right there, a few yards away. He watched her, unable to do anything else, as she followed the stream, careful not to slip. When she was almost out of sight, he was finally pulled out of his stupor, deprived of the vision she offered. Prudent not to make any sound, he caught up with her in the safe cover of the trees and bushes. When she reached a narrow, sandy spot between two boulders, she stopped and put her bundle down.
Hundreds of feelings were flooding him, nearly incapacitating him with their intensity. She looked so serene, so peaceful, it was hard to believe she was the heartless bitch who’d taken everything from him. Once he was done with her, there wouldn’t be anything calm remaining in her attitude. In minutes, she’d get what she deserved, and it sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins.
Aiden came as close as he could without being noticed, and looked at her. She turned around, exposing her profile to him, and his breath stopped. Despite everything, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
He admired her beauty from afar. With time, he’d forgotten her features, the delicate arch of her brows, the thickness of her lips, the curve of her nose… But now that she was in front of him, it all came back. Images of the young woman she used to be stormed his mind. She hadn’t changed. But everything else had. The love he’d harbored for her was long gone, replaced by hatred and resentment.
Oblivious to his presence, she reached for the front of her dress and untied it. He observed, hypnotized, as she removed her bodice, untied her skirts, and slipped them down. She carefully placed her clothes on one of the boulders, and he understood this was some sort of routine for her.
The vision she offered mesmerized Aiden. He despised her for that, aware that she still had some pulling effect on him. But as much as he tried, he was incapable of looking elsewhere.
She was wearing an old shirt tucked into a light petticoat that reached her calves. She pulled the hem up to tie it around her hips, exposing her legs up to her knees. Opening her bundle of laundry, she took a white shirt, a bar of soap, and a washing board. His eyes were still on her when she kneeled in front of the water, on the sand, ready to start her chores. With gestures she seemed to know well, she dipped the garment in, rubbed the soap on it, and scrubbed it on the board.
Forgetting everything he’d been preparing for the past five years, he watched her. The elegant slope of her neck, her narrow waist, wide hips. Angled as she was, he had a tremendous view on her bottom, and he was reminded of what it felt like to caress it when she’d given herself so thoroughly to him.
He felt like a bloody fool. For so long now, he had been eager to confront her, but when he finally had the chance to do so, he was entranced by her magnetic pull again. He felt like his twenty-five-year-old self, still bewitched by her.
His weakness brought him great shame and anger. This, right there, was the wench who’d used him. She had humiliated him more than anyone ever could. Without an ounce of hesitation or remorse, this woman had broken his heart and stomped on his pride. She’d made a daft fool out of him, giving him the hardest lesson he’d ever had to learn.
She deserved to pay for her offenses, and now was the perfect time for it.
A growing rage made his blood boil. It swiftly replaced his astonishment and gave him his confidence back.
With sturdy and determined steps, he went to Amalia, about to open the gates of hell on her.
→ Your keyboard smash goes here ←
So, thrilled, happy, angry, sad, right? Kinda hard to come by. I tried my best… String quintet in C major op.30-6 /G.326, by Luigi Boccherini . It starts a bit weird, but then it’s happy and exciting, then there’s a sad bit, then happy again, then a kind of menacing tone increasing towards the end. So rather perfect I’d say!
【28】Redemption Day
String Quartet No. 14 in D minor, D.810 “Death and the Maiden”: IV. Presto, by Franz Schubert.
Amalia was mindlessly scrubbing the white shirt, listening to the surrounding noises. The birds were chirping joyful melodies, the water of the stream was flowing soothingly, the light wind was passing in the trees… It was always great to get some quiet time, away from the noise and distractions.
She didn’t like to do her laundry all dressed, as she usually ended up soaked and cold. Also, whenever she could, she preferred to remove her dress and proceed with only her undergarments. She had taken the habit of distancing herself from the others, as she didn’t enjoy exposing her body to people. This also gave her the perfect excuse to have those moments alone.
For the third time today, she thought to herself that this month of May had been particularly warm. It was as if she was still in Spain and not back in bitter and rainy England. While the air was chilly, it wasn’t enough to make her cold, despite her lack of clothes. Although the glacial water was harsh on her hands.
When she was done scrubbing her shirt, she rinsed it in the cold stream, making sure there were no traces of soap left, and then squeezed it to remove as much of the water as possible. She set it aside and was about to grab another one when something cracked right behind her.
Startled, she jumped on her feet and turned around. A tall man was coming at her from the woods. From what she could see, his clothes were too fine for him to be from the camp, and she feared what an outsider might do to her. She was tempted to grab her washing board, ready to defend herself if needed. But then the imposing man came out of the shadows. Her heart dropped low in her chest and her lungs emptied with shock, as if someone had punched her.
Utterly stunned, she stared at the familiar face. The very face she never thought she would see again…
Aiden .
After a brief moment of stupor upon recognizing him, her panic turned into pure terror.
No, it couldn’t be him. Not here. Not in Bristol. She’d thought she would be safe here, since he lived hundreds of miles away. It was impossible that he’d be right here, a few yards away from her. But she knew this face. She knew those features too well. It was Aiden. He had found her.
For an instant, she was thrown back to their summer years ago. She remembered those lazy afternoons they’d spent talking, laughing, playing music… Most of all, she remembered how it felt to be unconditionally in love with him, and to have her affection returned with the same intensity.
To this day, those weeks with him were still the happiest of her life. There wasn’t a day she hadn’t thought of him since.
He stopped a few feet away from her, his icy blue eyes locked on hers with a threatening glare. He seemed so cold, so brutally hateful, that she could barely see the young man he used to be.
“Good afternoon, Amalia,” he greeted, his voice dangerously calm.
Her knees weakened beneath her, and she had to lean on the boulder not to fall. It was a dream— No, a nightmare… It couldn’t be true. She would wake up soon.
But everything was too real to come from her imagination. The rock under her palm, the light breeze, nature’s noises… And mostly Aiden. She had forgotten how dashing he was, and she could never have remembered his face so perfectly. It was real, and he was the same man she’d loved so passionately.
Even though fear was paralyzing her, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he still was. It seemed as if much more than five years had passed. The young man she knew and loved was now more mature. Everything about him was masculine, muscular, and dangerous.
He took a stride closer, domineering and imperious, so Amalia took a shaky step back.
“Aiden. Why— Why are you here?” she finally managed to ask, her voice uneven. He didn’t answer right away. His piercing eyes were locked onto hers, and she worried he might read her soul and see her deepest secrets.
“I’m sure you knew this would happen, love. This is redemption day.”
The endearment made her heart sink in her chest. She used to adore it when he called her that. But now it sounded like a sarcastic insult. He took another step, and so did she. She barely noticed the stinging cold of the stream’s water when she stepped in it.
“What do you want? I have nothing.” She looked down at her attire, which wasn’t hiding much, and her face warmed up. She was wearing the worst possible outfit for this.
“What could I possibly want?” he repeated, pretending to think about the answer. “Maybe we should start with an apology?”
His deceitfully calm attitude was worrying Amalia more and more. He seemed to be prepared for this, and she didn’t want to imagine what his mind might have come up with during all those years. If she screamed, how long would it take for the women to come to her? Once more, she had gotten too far, and she could barely hear their voices. She decided it was safer to comply with his demands. She had too much to lose. There was no way she’d take the risk of upsetting him.
“I’m sorry, Aiden—”
“Stop calling me, Aiden. To a bohemian like you, it is ‘your Grace,’” he warned, his voice merciless.
For the first time, he was openly aggressive, and Amalia backed up again. Then she understood what this meant. He was a duke, now. His father had died, which meant he held much more power than he used to. He was an almighty lord, and there wasn’t anything she could ever do to oppose his will. She was helpless, because he could decide her fate with a snap of his fingers.
His eyes went up and down on her with what resembled disgust, and his eyebrow rose when he saw how she was retreating in the water. “You can come closer. I won’t hurt you. I made a promise to you a long time ago, and some of us can actually keep their word.”
She remembered. During their afternoon near the lake, he had told her he would never hurt her. However, with everything that had happened since, he couldn’t feel the same way about her anymore. Also, it was clear to her that he’d changed a lot. While she’d trusted the young man he’d been, she wasn’t sure she could feel the same way about the imposing stranger before her.
He grew impatient, huffing in reprobation, so she moved out of the water to please him. Still, she stayed at a safe distance, just in case.
“I apologized, Aid— Your Grace. What do you want me to do now?”
“The ring, what became of it?”
“I… I don’t have it anymore.”
This time, when he came closer, she fought the urge to move back. His incredibly blue eyes, a shade she had never been allowed to forget, were fiercely locked on her, like a predator’s on its prey. She’d never thought she would see him again. She used to, back then, when everything had happened, but she hadn’t in a very long time. She wasn’t prepared for this confrontation.
“Then maybe you can answer this question that’s been on my mind all those years,” he suggested, his voice low. He was so close now that she could feel his breath fanning over her face. “When you spread your legs for my cock, was it the plan all along, or did you just go with it like a whore?”
Her blood boiled, appalled that he would reduce what they’d shared to this. Before she could hold it back, her hand flew to his cheek to slap him. Her palm was stinging from the blow, but his head had barely moved. A dangerous, menacing smile bent his lips, and Amalia understood the extent of her acts. Terrified, she looked in the direction of the other women, gauging if she could make it in time.
“There she is… The fierce Amalia I know, not that scared little thing.”
“Stop calling me Amalia,” she dared to blurt out. “To you, it’s Miss Romero.”
A sparkle lit in his eyes. “I take it you never married?”
She didn’t answer, but held his gaze, having found back some of her combativeness. There was only one man she had ever wanted to marry, and it seemed clear he had become an absolute arse. “What do you want, your Grace ,” she asked, pressing him.
He looked at her, puzzled. “I’m not sure yet. I have been preparing for this for so long. I have too many things in mind. But don’t worry, I will pick a suitable fate for you.” He covered her with a lustful gaze, and Amalia shivered. Although she couldn’t tell exactly if it was from outrage or the recollection of what lust in his arms felt like. She could still remember how it felt to be under him, to kiss him with fervor, to experience passion… But she certainly didn’t want any of that with the version of Aiden she had in front of her.
She was about to tell him to go to hell when a familiar voice came from further up the path. Her friend, Carmen, was coming this way.
No…
No, no, no.
Amalia panicked, sheer dread freezing her blood. Desperate, she sent Aiden a pleading gaze. “You have to leave. You can’t stay here!” She pushed on his torso to force him back to where he came from, but she might as well have tried to move one of the boulders. Carmen’s voice was getting closer. “Please, Aiden, Your Grace, go…”
He looked down at her, inflexible. “Maybe you should introduce me to your friend, love.”
Amalia didn’t know what to do. This was a secret that couldn’t be known. That mustn’t be revealed.
Before it was too late, he seemed to take pity on her, sensing the depth of her despair. “If you don’t want to have to explain my presence here, make her go,” he commanded before moving back, retreating to the cover of the vegetation. The newcomer wouldn’t see him if she managed to get rid of her fast.
Carmen finally appeared to her sight, followed by two little girls. They were still a hundred feet away, and Amalia hoped she could send them back. “Carmen, not now!” she shouted. “Go back to the camp, please!” As much as she was trying to sound normal, her voice was trembling, her breathing uneven. This couldn’t be happening…
“I will,” the woman argued. “I just need to leave the girls with you. I can’t get anything done with them around!” Before Amalia could say anything, the girls ran toward her. Carmen vaguely waved at them and went back to where she came from.
“No!” she told the girls, who were approaching fast. “Go back! Go to Carmen!”
It didn’t stop them, and desperation invaded Amalia. When they reached her, she kneeled in the sand. Both of them hugged her, and she tried her best to keep them facing her. If they turned around, they wouldn’t miss Aiden’s threatening silhouette lurking in the shadows. He was still watching her, waiting for her to get rid of the girls. There was hope. She could still save the situation.
“Please, go back to the camp. I will come back soon, I promise,” she ordered with a firm voice.
“But we don’t want to! Please!”
“Carmen won’t let us play with the tea set,” the other complained.
“Please, Mommy…” they begged together.
As the word left her daughters’ lips, Amalia knew she had just lost her battle. To her great distress, Aiden came out of the shadows, a stunned expression on his face.
“‘Mommy?’” he repeated, baffled.
Surprised, the girls squealed and turned around to face him. Amalia stood up and shoved them behind her. They each grabbed one of her thighs, trembling with panic. Trying to be fierce like a lioness defending her cubs, Amalia held herself high, ready to do anything to protect them.
“‘Mommy?’” Aiden said again, still not grasping what was happening. He tried to push Amalia aside to take a look at the girls. But she didn’t budge. She wouldn’t let him. Ailia and Maeve were everything to her. She couldn’t lose them, she couldn’t live without them.
“How old are they?” he aggressively demanded. She said nothing, knowing there wasn’t a thing she could say to help her situation.
She read on his face when something clicked in his mind. His confusion became even more intense as he scanned her eyes for the answers he sought. He grabbed Amalia’s arm and squeezed it hard, sending a painful jolt under her skin.
“Are they mine?”
“No.”
To her dismay, the cracking in her voice was enough to betray the lie. She saw the exact moment Aiden knew. The moment he became certain.
Her greatest fear was coming true. The nightmare she’d had so often was unfolding before her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it this time. Her eyes filled with tears as she stood there, utterly helpless.
This song is kinda good to illustrate panic, and a hectic mind, I think. The tune is quite catchy, in my opinion. Also, the name could totally be in a hard metal album, which I find very amusing. String Quartet No. 14 in D minor, D.810 “Death and the Maiden”: IV. Presto, by Franz Schubert.
【29】Unpredictable Circumstance
Der Freischütz, J. 277: Ouverture, by Carl Maria von Weber
Aiden was slowly losing his patience, waiting for Amalia to send the little girls away. He had a lot of ideas prepared for her, and he couldn’t wait to start executing his plans. She would work to pay back for the things her people had taken. All the way to the last silver teaspoon she’d helped them steal. Pennies per pennies, she would repay her debt to him. With an average wage of ten pounds per year, she would need the rest of her life to repay just the ring.
He wasn’t certain yet what position he would grant her. Nothing more than a housemaid or a kitchen maid. Once he would be married, he might promote her to become his wife’s lady’s maid. Then Amalia would spend the rest of her life seeing what she had lost by leaving him.
Aiden focused back on her, kneeling in the sand, trying to reason with the little girls. He was barely paying attention to what was being said, his mind too busy figuring out how he would execute his revenge plans.
Regardless of how distracted he was, he couldn’t miss the “Mommy” that suddenly came out of the girls’ mouths.
The instant he understood these weren’t random children from the camp, but Amalia’s progeny, his entire body tensed. He’d never imagined her moving on and finding someone else. It seemed ridiculously naïve, now that he was thinking about it, but he’d never imagined how she could have spent those five years. She hadn’t married, but it seemed her people didn’t need the holy bonds of marriage to procreate.
Shocked, angry, and confused, he left the cover of the woods to bolt to her.
“Mommy?” he growled, demanding an explanation.
His sudden presence seemed to frighten the girls, and they moved behind their mother to seek protection. He hadn’t caught it before, but they seemed to be twins. The difference between their dresses, one blue, one pink, had prevented him from noticing it. They didn’t wear their hair the same way either, as one had her hair loose, while the other had a braid. Now that they were hidden, he couldn’t see much of them, but something was driving him to study the little girls. Their mother wasn’t allowing it, though, so he looked up at Amalia, who was fiercely ready to protect her daughters.
“Mommy?” he repeated. Once more, she didn’t answer, and doubt made its way into Aiden’s head. She seemed scared. Too scared. Something wasn’t right.
Why would she be scared for them? It wasn’t the girls he wanted revenge on. It was…
An insidious, small seed of doubt grew in his mind. He tried to guess the girls’ age, from the way they’d spoken to their height, the way they moved… He had a niece and a nephew, who were four and two. And the girls seemed to be a little older than his niece.
Which meant they would have been conceived five to six years ago. So they could be…
They could be his.
In the past, he had always been careful not to take any risks with the women he bedded, using French letters, sponges, or avoiding coming inside of them. He was confident that none of his adventures had resulted in procreation.
However, with Amalia, it had been different, hadn’t it? They were going to marry, and he had wanted her to carry his seed. But could it truly have happened in one night?
No, it was impossible. The odds were too slim.
Still, he needed to make sure.
“How old are they?” he demanded, looking back at Amalia. She didn’t answer, her brave mask slowly cracking despite her resilience.
There was only one reason she wouldn’t answer. Only one explanation as to why she would be so scared of him. She was worried that he would take them away. And she was so terrified of it because he could.
Because they were his.
He clasped her arm, frustrated by her lack of answer. “Are they mine?”
“No.”
As much as Aiden wanted this to be true, as much as he wanted the girls to be someone else’s problem, it was clear she was lying. She was petrified with fear, tears pooling in her eyes, her voice uneven.
Had the girls not been his, she would have denied it with ardor, because then she would have had nothing to fear. But if they were his daughters, she could lose everything. And she was perfectly aware of it.
He took a step to the side to examine the girls, and she tried to stop him. “Please… Aiden please, don’t…”
Ignoring her plea, he kneeled, eager to observe the twins. With an unthreatening hand, he touched one of the girl’s black hair, as dark as her mother’s. “What is your name?” he asked in a soft voice. The girl glimpsed at him timidly and looked up at her mother. Amalia was still paralyzed, a solitary tear rolling down her face. “It is all right, sweetheart, you can tell me.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, the girl finally spoke. “I’m Maeve.”
Aiden turned to the other one. “And you, darling, what is your name?”
“Ailia.”
“Those are pretty names. Mine is Aiden. Do you know where your names come from?”
“Mommy says it comes from Ireland!” Maeve explained, proud to know the answer.
“Were you two born in Ireland, then?”
Ailia shook her head. “It was in Spain.”
He frowned, confused by the way it didn’t add up. The names supposedly marked their origin, according to Amalia’s people. The girls’ names made no sense. Unless… Unless the origin was different.
It was him. His name was Irish. He was their origin. Boiling with contained rage, he looked up at Amalia, whose world was still falling apart. The girls weren’t as afraid as before, moving from behind her, and they were both looking at him, curious.
“And how old are you?”
“We just turned five!”
Everything made sense.
As much as he distrusted Amalia’s past actions, he was convinced she’d been a virgin when he’d bedded her. It seemed unlikely she led a promiscuous life right after, given her original reticence toward men. No, without any possible doubt, he was their father.
Trying to find himself in them, he studied their features, tried to find a difference in their perfectly identical faces. One of them, Maeve, had a small scar on her cheek. They had their mother’s hair, dark and wavy, but it was his eyes he saw on them, a rare shade of blue. The only similitude in their attire was their jewelry. Each of them had stud earrings made of three small glass gems.
He had never thought of himself as the fatherly type, but a desire to protect them invaded him, some primal instinct that took over his mind. Emotions filled his heart as he gazed down at the twins. He was a father. Twice. Before him stood the flesh of his flesh.
This unpredictable circumstance was overwhelming, and his head was almost spinning from it all. This morning, he had been a bachelor, without obligations or commitments. And now, in the past five minutes, he had become a father, with two lives to take care of, two souls who depended on him.
To his great surprise, knowing that he had two daughters unleashed pure joy on him. And they were utterly adorable, with their perfect faces and small bodies. Having a child had always been some distant thought, but now that he was facing it, he was finding some satisfaction in this idea. He had a legacy.
As the information made its way in his mind, anger slowly overtook him again. He had missed five years of their lives. Five years he would never get back. Five years of learning and discovering about fatherhood that had been robbed from him. He’d missed an entire stage of their lives, which he would never witness.
If he hadn’t been there for the first years of their lives, he could make sure he’d be here for the rest of it. From this point forward, he wouldn’t tolerate not knowing if they were taken care of, safe, well-fed, warm…
The decision didn’t even take him a second, and he stood up to face Amalia. “I have to go back to Bristol, but I will be back in two hours with a carriage. Make sure everything is packed by then.”
She dried her cheeks and held his gaze. “I won’t let you take them away from me. I won’t let you.”
“Listen to me carefully, love. I’m taking the girls with me. This isn’t even up for discussion.” He paused and looked at her with arrogance, reminding her she was nothing compared to him. “You can try to fight me on this, but I can assure you, Amalia, you will lose.”
He paused and gently brushed the head of one of the girls. He was taking them with him. There was no doubt about it. But he also knew he couldn’t rip them away from their mother, or they would never forgive him for that traumatizing moment and trust him. Their mother had to come too, whether he liked this idea or not.
Clenching his teeth, he turned back to the godless woman, his eyes meeting her dark ones. “Now, the question you should ask is, are you coming?”
“Would you allow it?”
“You will come along with us until we find what arrangement will work the best. We will talk about it later when we are back in Bristol.” He looked at the girls, who were understandably confused by what was happening. “In the meantime, you will do as I say and prepare your things. You better be ready when I’m back.” He paused and grabbed her arm again, pulling her closer. “And Amalia, don’t flee. Just know that if you do, I will put a bounty on the three of you so high, that half of Britain will look for you.” He paused to give her the time to process the information.
“And then, when you are found – not if but when – there will be no discussions possible. I will take them away from you, while you either hang from a rope, or spend the rest of your days rotting in a cell.”
Maybe he should have insisted more, but he saw the fright in her eyes. She knew these weren’t empty threats. If she didn’t comply, he would act on them, and she’d learn what it cost to disobey him.
With one last brush on the girls’ heads and one last glare at their mother, Aiden left them by the stream.
At a fast pace, he reached his horse, eager to get back to the hotel and have everything prepared. Despite his very serious and genuine threats, he couldn’t trust Amalia to stick around. It wouldn’t be the first time that she disappeared on him.
He would be back in an hour with the carriage. If she was gone by then, he would unleash hell and find her.
After all those years, he finally had her in his grasp. Between the ability he had to control her, and the daughters he now had to care for, he wouldn’t let go of Amalia.
Not now, and not ever.
The piece for this chapter is Der Freischütz, J. 277: Ouverture, by Carl Maria von Weber . It’s a little worrying at the beginning, but there are also tender moments, a certain sadness and happiness to it… Perfect for this chapter!
【30】The Prince’s Suite
Oboe Concerto in D Minor: II. Adagio, by Alessandro Marcello
Packing all of their things in such a short amount of time was nearly impossible. Thankfully, they didn’t have much, which meant it was doable. Amalia did her best to keep her mind working, despite the tumultuous thoughts clouding it, and the girls constantly asking her questions.
Had she known Aiden’s plans, she would have given the twins the answers they sought. But she was just as lost as they were. Aiden had scared her more than she’d ever been scared in her life. The man she knew was gone, and the merciless duke that had replaced him wasn’t one to be meddled with. She had considered running while there was still time, but the dangers were too great. Aiden was determined to have Ailia and Maeve, and she wouldn’t take the risk of losing them.
Amalia was in the caravan they shared with Carmen and her family, looking around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. The twins were sitting on the bed all three of them slept in, looking at her with perplexed expressions on their identical faces. They had been looking at her like this ever since she’d hurriedly brought them back to the camp.
“Mommy, why do we have to go?”
“Are the others coming too? Will our friends be there?”
Amalia sighed, struggling to maintain her sanity. “The man who was there earlier wants us to stay with him for a while. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to come back. But we will,” she promised with determination. There was no way she’d stay there when Aiden seemed to have murderous intentions where she was concerned.
Someone entered the caravan, and Amalia’s heart stopped beating in her chest as she turned around. When she found Carmen there, she blew out her cheeks in relief. “What is happening?” the newcomer asked her.
“We have… We have to leave. Someone’s coming to get us soon.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
“I can’t tell you. But please…” Amalia fetched the note she’d written, to hand it to her friend. “Please, have this sent to one of my brothers. It’s urgent.”
She could see the confusion in Carmen’s eyes, and she was sorry she couldn’t tell her more. But this letter would be her salvation. In this letter, she told whoever would receive it, that the father of the twins had found her. She told them how her life was in danger, how the twins were at risk too. She begged her brother to come and get her at the manor they had found her in all these years ago.
Hopefully, this would reach Paul or Sebastian soon. If she was lucky, Paul would be the one getting it, as she feared what Sebastian might do to her if he were the one coming to rescue them. But regardless of the beating he would inflict on her, it was still better than hanging from a rope, or spending the rest of her days in a cell, as Aiden had threatened.
Some commotion came from outside, and Amalia’s throat clenched painfully. He was here. He’d come to get them. Tears blurred her vision, but she fought through them. Ailia and Maeve were scared enough. They didn’t need to see their mother breaking down.
They all exited the caravan, Amalia holding a large bundle of their things while the girls had smaller ones. Carmen was helping as well, carrying a small chest. People from the camp had gathered around a luxurious coach, curious to see why on Earth would such a fine carriage come here. The passenger door opened before the footman had reached it, and Aiden’s blond hair was a stark contrast to everyone else’s here.
He scanned the crowd with his imperious gaze, and when he found her, his eyes turned cold and expressionless. With the girls by her side, Amalia forced herself to move forward. The servitors took their belongings after Aiden had ordered them to. Empty-handed, she looked up at the man she’d once loved so boundlessly.
“Get in the car,” he ordered, barely granting her a glimpse.
Although she knew she didn’t have a choice, she hesitated, turning to Carmen who was utterly lost. Aiden didn’t have time for farewells, though, as he grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the steps, urging her to enter the vehicle. The girls received better treatment, as he delicately lifted them and settled them inside.
Before she knew it, he was with them. After he’d knocked on the roof, the carriage took off. Amalia watched out the window until the people she’d been living with for the past three months disappeared in the distance. Ever since the twins’ birth, she’d traveled a lot, never settling for long in the same camp. But she still befriended a few people every time. Of the friends she’d made here, she’d miss Carmen the most. But as long as Amalia got to stay with her daughters, she would be alright.
She squeezed them harder against her. She had one on each side, with Aiden sitting opposite of her. His gaze glided back and forth on the three of them.
As she held her precious angels, she wondered what would become of them. Did he want to recognize them as his daughters, exposing them to the scandal of being born illegitimate, or did he have another plan? What would be her place by their side? Would she become some kind of nurse, allowed to care for her own daughters?
The girls didn’t seem too shaken by what was happening. Ever since they’d gotten into the carriage, they had become calmer. They were looking out the windows, where the late afternoon sky was displaying beautiful shades of orange and pink. The twins were fierce and courageous, and sometimes too bold for their own good. Especially Maeve.
Minutes passed, and the silence stretched. Soon, the tension between them became unbearable.
When he wasn’t looking, Amalia examined Aiden. It felt as if he had aged fifteen years instead of five. Not that he looked old, but the bright, full of life young man she knew seemed long gone. His eyes were harsh, and the light in them was gone. The line of his mouth was flat and severe, and his brows were constantly furrowed to some extent. She hadn’t seen him smile once, and she could barely imagine it. There was something cynical about him. He almost seemed cruel. After all, only a cruel man would threaten a mother with death, right in front of her daughters.
The rest of him appeared to have matured, too. He had always looked healthy and athletic, but what she had in front of her was far from the svelte, active Aiden she knew. He was imposing, his chest large and strong, his shoulders broad. Even his neck was thicker, laced with tendons and muscles. She looked down at his hands, his fingers intertwined, resting by his crotch. When they’d been at the stream, his grip on her arm had been strong, and she didn’t doubt that he could easily break one of her bones.
Ailia pulled on her sleeve to get her attention, and she looked down at her daughter. “Mommy, is he a Prince?”
Maeve turned too, interested in the answer.
“Certainly not,” Amalia answered.
“Are we going to a castle?” This time it was Maeve.
Before she could respond, Aiden spoke. “Not right away. We’re going to a hotel for tonight, then to London, to get the three of you a decent wardrobe and tutors. Then we will go to the castle.”
The girls vibrated with excitement. They loved getting new dresses, but Amalia had never been able to get them more than three dresses at a time.
“What is a tutor?” Maeve asked.
“It’s someone that will teach you things,” Amalia explained. The girls frowned, unsure of what to make of this.
“But we already know plenty of things,” Ailia complained, supported by her sister, who nodded.
“If you are to live in a castle, you two have to learn how to be princesses,” Aiden explained with a voice that was strangely soft, given the hardness of his expression. “It’s hard work, certainly. But you have your mother’s blood, and she never refused a challenge. Actually, she would go to any length to accomplish her goals.” He had stopped looking at the girls, and his eyes were now on Amalia, glaring at her with spite.
She knew he meant it as an attack, but she didn’t let it affect her.
“Do you think you can do it, girls?” Aiden continued, focusing back on them.
They intensely considered the question, and both agreed at the same time, without ever looking at each other. It was a twin thing that never failed to amaze Amalia; the consensus of their minds.
The girls then took turns in asking him questions about the castle, which Aiden replied to, patiently. Were there horses? Would they have a room for just the two of them? Would they have to bathe every day? Would there be cakes? Would they be allowed to eat them?
They were tireless, but Aiden never seemed annoyed. He even sounded amused by how their minds worked. Amalia turned to the landscape, hurt by the sight of her children so easily liking her tormentor. Outside, the scenery was changing as they were approaching Bristol. By the time they reached the hotel, the girls were out of questions to ask. Amalia was sure they would have a fresh batch of those in less than an hour. They looked delighted with Aiden’s answers and were already trying to hold themselves straighter, like princesses.
When the car stopped, Amalia’s heart rate increased. In the coach’s confinement, she had felt somehow safe even with Aiden a few feet away. What could he do to her with the girls here, anyway? But the idea of facing the outside worried her, especially with people from his world. The door opened, and he went out first, then assisted the girls down, lifting them for their greatest enjoyment. He hesitated when her turn came, but extended a courteous hand nevertheless.
Ignoring it, she stepped out of the vehicle without even a glimpse at him. As she passed him, she caught his grin from the corner of her eye.
She looked up at the grand entrance of the hotel and reached for the girls’ hands, who were already about to rush inside. All four of them entered, and Amalia tried her best not to notice the judging looks the hall’s visitors gave them. Their clothes were coarse compared to the fine ones everyone was wearing. It was obvious that they didn’t belong here.
She imagined they displayed an odd picture. The three little bohemians and the dashing duke. It sounded like a moralistic tale – one where she and her daughters didn’t have the good part.
Aiden guided them all the way upstairs to his suite without addressing a word to any of them. Amalia was having a hard time keeping the twins in line, as they wanted to touch everything and run up front. When they arrived, a footman posted there opened the double, after giving them a confused glance. Finally, Amalia let go of the twins, and they rushed into the room, their eyes sparkling.
Aiden removed his coat and left it on a chair, his attention on his daughters. They were inspecting every detail, amazed by the finesse of everything. It was their first time in such an environment. Amalia had to admit that the room was impressive and decorated with style. It was a large living room, furnished with taste and opulence. Two large sofas were facing each other, a marble coffee table between them, a beautiful rose bouquet sitting in the middle of it. There was a well-maintained fire in the massive fireplace, and the room was comfortably warm.
The girls reached the end of the room, where there were doors to access the balcony. Ailia opened it and they bolted outside. Amalia quickly joined them. As she suspected, the girls wanted to look over the railing, to see the street.
“Maeve, don’t climb that!” she warned. The girl pouted and tried to see over the massive stone balustrade on her tiptoes.
Aiden had joined them, and without a word, he grabbed one girl under each arm and lifted them over the edge. Very amused by the situation, the girls giggled and watched with amazement the street below them.
Amalia looked at the scene, her heart aching painfully. For the first time, she was seeing the old Aiden. His face was relaxed, and he was smiling while he held the twins against him. Only then did it hit her. What she had done to him. She had deprived him of this.
All those years ago, they had never talked about children, focusing on the present instead, and she hadn’t known if he longed to have any. He hadn’t seemed to be the type back then. But then, she hadn’t been either. It was when faced with her pregnancy that she had known. There had been no doubt in her heart that she would love the upcoming child with everything she had. Children, as it had turned out.
Not letting go of the girls, Aiden carried them back inside, making them giggle with delight. Amalia followed, and he led them to a room adjacent to the living room.
It was a bedroom with a double bed, on which he dropped the girls, making them laugh. “This will be your bedroom for tonight,” he told them. The girls looked around with wonder in their eyes. Then, Maeve went to check the closet while Ailia examined a cabinet filled with trinkets. Aiden opened a chest at the foot of the bed. It was filled with toys and stuffed animals, and the girls shrieked when they saw the content before raiding it.
Aiden came to Amalia, who was standing at the door, and invited her to follow him with a gesture. He showed her to another room, where everything was larger. The bed, the closets, the fireplace… “I’m afraid there are only two bedrooms in the suite. I’m not sure what sleeping arrangements can be made for tonight, but you will have to sleep here tonight. We will make the proper arrangements for the rest of our travels,” he explained.
Amalia looked at the bed and the man she was meant to share it with. Even if it was the largest bed she had ever seen, it still didn’t look large enough for her to be at a safe distance from him.
“I would rather sleep on one of the sofas in the living room. Or with the girls.”
His eyes darkened. But she didn’t know if it was of amusement or anger at her defiance. He was still holding the door in his hand and pushed it shut.
Determined and imposing, he marched toward her. She fought the urge to step back, not willing to show him she was intimidated. But he was so tall and massive, and so full of hatred toward her. She couldn’t help but expect the worst. There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just anger or resentment anymore, but another feeling she’d already seen in him; one she hadn’t expected to ever see again.
Less than a foot away from her, he stopped his advance and raised his hand to take a strand of her hair between his thumb and index, sampling the texture. His proximity disarmed Amalia. He was right here. She could touch him effortlessly if she wanted. And he smelled as good as he used to, years ago. The memory of his scent threw her back again in time, to a period where things had been so much simpler.
“Since we are both here,” he said with a sensually low voice, “why not settle a matter I’ve been wondering about for over five years?” As he said it, she looked up, meeting his eyes. He was observing her with a mix of hunger and curiosity. Amalia kept her ground, determined not to show her fears.
He slowly rested his hands on her hips and came even closer. Even though they were barely touching, she could feel the heat of his body, and it made her knees weaken. It was Aiden. Her Aiden. The man she had so desperately loved.
“With time, I have come to think it was the two months of celibacy before I had you that made the whole experience remarkable,” he declared. He bent as if to lay a kiss on her shoulder, but his lips never met her skin. His warm breath was enough to make her shiver, though. “Now that we have both gone around and tried new things, I think we would find it quite unextraordinary.”
She said nothing, trying not to let his words hurt her. If he wanted to think that what they had shared was nothing, good for him. On the contrary, he would leave her be. His hands on her hips tensed.
“We should try again, just to prove my theory.”
Still unmoving, she decided to stop him. “I would rather not.”
Not letting go of her hips, he moved back to look her in the eye. “Don’t you want to see if your memory didn’t overemphasize that night we shared?”
Both angry and embarrassed, she didn’t answer. She had to pull away from him. She didn’t want to allow him to be so intimate, so forward. But as much as she tried to reason with herself, her body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Trapped by the way his closeness made her feel, she was helplessly motionless.
“Please… Don’t tell me you haven’t been exploring your options, after all this time?” His voice was both curious and mocking. “If I remember well, Rodrigo couldn’t wait to enjoy that tight little body of yours. Did you never let him?”
Despite her efforts, this one hurt. It gave her the impulse she needed, and she pushed him away. “No, I didn’t. Not after my two tedious and short experiences,” she responded, feeling as if venom was coming out of her mouth. “With an arrogant ass, nonetheless, and I still ended up with twins… Can you imagine what a real man could have done?”
Speechless, he looked at her with absolute stupor. For an instant, she worried she had gone too far and he would hurt her for it. Oh, no… Even if it hurt her pride, she had to remain amiable and not push Aiden too far. She had to last until one of her brothers received the message and came to rescue them.
After a few excruciating seconds of silence, Aiden let out an incredulous laugh, visibly surprised by her boldness. “Can you imagine, indeed? You could have ended up with triplets.” Amalia couldn’t help but be intrigued by his reaction. Maybe he still had some humor left in him, despite his cold and distant facade. “Well then, I guess we won’t be sharing much tonight. Your loss, love.”
“Don’t call me love .”
This time, her recklessness earned her an intense look that made her breath catch in her throat. After a moment, he went back to the door to open it, allowing her to exit the room.
The song for this one is Oboe Concerto in D Minor: II. Adagio, by Alessandro Marcello . Try it out.
【31】Conditions
Symphony No. 49 in F Minor Hob.I:49 La Passione: II. Allegro di molto, by Franz Joseph Haydn.
When they reentered the main room, Amalia noticed a valet had arrived.
“Lambert,” Aiden called the man. “This is Amalia Romero. She is a fling, from years ago, and I just learned she has had two girls as a result. They are in the small bedroom. Of course, none of this information will leave this room.” He was explaining it as if it was a simple anecdote and his detachment hurt her more than it should have. To her amazement, the valet’s expression didn’t flinch. “They will be with us from now on. We are leaving for London tomorrow before noon. Have everything arranged for our journey. Also, I need you to find them proper clothing for the trip.” Aiden stopped, trying to determine if he was forgetting anything.
“Will that be all, your Grace?”
“No. We will be eating here tonight. Have the kitchen send us something. Also, have a word sent to the Worthingtons, thanking them for their time and wishing them the best for the future.” The valet nodded and was about to leave when Aiden spoke again. “Oh, and Lambert, well done with the toys. They were a success.” The valet nodded again with a stiff smile and left.
Once Lambert had left, Amalia gave Aiden one last conflicted glance and went to see her daughters. She leaned on the door frame as she watched them having a tea party with a pink stuffed rabbit and a blue bear.
Right behind her, she could sense Aiden’s presence, observing them as well, and the small hair on the back of her neck rose. His proximity was disturbing her, but she wasn’t sure why. She was scared of him, of the man he’d become, of what he could do to her… But she also felt alive near him, because despite how much he’d changed in these few years, he was the man she used to love.
“You have done well, Amalia. They seem to be happy and well-fed. However, we will have to work on their manners.”
If she stayed there as he questioned her educational skills, she might become aggressive again and get herself in more trouble than she already was. So she left him and went to sit on the floor with the girls.
All three of them had a mundane conversation, interrupted by fake sips of tea from the miniature cups – with the pinky up, the girls insisted. Ailia introduced her to the rabbit, named Bunbun, and the bear named Alfred. Amalia couldn’t tell how long they stayed on the floor like this, but Aiden never stopped watching them, still at the door, leaning on its frame.
There was a knock on the main doors, and only then did he leave. Amalia heard him talk to someone. A few people came and went into the suite, and when they left, Aiden came to fetch her and the girls.
“Dinner is served,” he told them.
“Can we take Bunbun and Alfred with us?” Maeve asked. He didn’t understand the question, so the girls showed him the stuffed toys. He seemed to hesitate, his strict education taking over, but he accepted eventually.
He led them to a dining room adjacent to the main room of the suite. Amalia knew dinners in the aristocracy were usually served by footmen, with a whole protocol and several courses… It was a rigorous process. However, all of it had been just put on the table, and they were in charge of the service. Had Aiden asked for them to be left alone. Was it for discretion? Did he want to make the girls feel comfortable? Maybe he wanted some privacy?
Amalia served the girls and herself, then watched, hiding her amusement, as Aiden struggled to handle the salad. They ate, and the girls had a new batch of questions to ask Aiden. Amalia kept reminding them not to speak with their mouths full, but it didn’t stop them.
Does the castle have towers? Will they also have to eat their salad when they become princesses? Can Alfred and Bunbun come?
This time, Amalia weighed in on the answers. She enjoyed this moment they shared. It was simple, just the four of them, and as much as she disliked the man he’d become, she enjoyed seeing Aiden like this. He wasn’t a severe duke anymore. He was a man, constantly disarmed by his daughters’ peculiar ways of thinking. During brief instants, she could see the Aiden she used to love. Alas, that man swiftly disappeared every time he glanced in her direction, returning to the cold and merciless person he now was. But for a few minutes here and there, they almost looked like a normal family.
There probably wouldn’t be many of these moments in the future. She had no idea what would happen, but she doubted he’d allow her to stay close to them like this. It would be insulting to be a nurse to her own daughters, but she would do anything to remain by their side. He could actually make it even worse for her, and keep her as a housemaid, which meant she’d barely ever see her daughters, too busy taking care of her duties.
Once the desserts were finished, Amalia took the girls for a quick wash before preparing them for the night. Their things had been set in the master bedroom, and Amalia went to get their nightgowns. When she got back, they were talking to each other, and Amalia halted behind the door to listen.
“I like Aiden,” Ailia was saying.
“Me too! I can’t wait to see his castle!”
“Can you imagine, we are going to be princesses, in a castle with towers and horses!”
“It means Mommy is going to be a queen!” Amalia smiled at the girls approving exclamations.
“Do you think she will have a crown? Do you think we will have one?” That prospect seemed to excite Maeve even more.
“Or tiaras! I don’t know, we have to ask Aiden.”
Before it went any further, Amalia entered the room. “Less talking, more undressing, girls.” The twins obeyed, and crawled in the luxurious bed once they were ready for the night, their new stuffed animals between them.
“Mommy, can you tell us a story?”
Amalia was about to refuse when she decided it was important for them to know nothing would change between them. She told them a story about an adventurous pirate who roamed the seas looking for his betrothed, accompanied by his pet octopus. The girls fell asleep before she was even done with his first adventure. She tucked them in and kissed their foreheads, reluctant to go with Aiden.
Aiden was in the living room, standing in front of the fire, patiently waiting. He had two glasses of amber alcohol on the mantel. Amalia sat on one of the sofas, anxious about what would happen now. The girls’ presence had protected her until now, since he was careful not to tarnish his image in their eyes. But now that it was only the two of them, Aiden might finally let loose, as he’d done by the stream when he’d first found her.
He slowly spun around and his gaze locked on her, examining her with intensity. Eventually, he came to her to give her one of the glasses before sitting in the armchair next to her. She took a sip and sat back, studying him with carefulness.
“I imagine this is the moment we talk about how we will do this?” she asked.
“The future of the girls is pretty simple. They will live with me, and I will take care of all their needs.” He paused and looked at her with a dangerous glimmer in his blue eyes. “The question is, will they have their mother by their side?”
The threat in his voice was hard to ignore. “You cannot recognize them as your own.”
“And why is that?”
“They would be the bastard born daughters of a duke with a commoner. No, less than a commoner; a bohemian. What would their lives be like?”
He didn’t reply immediately, searching for an alternative. “They could become my wards, then.” Amalia thought about it for a moment and nodded reluctantly. It was already better for the twins. “How about this, a duke falls madly in love with a beautiful Spanish widow, who used to be married to some lord in the Peninsula. The duke marries said widow, takes her children in as his own, and they all four live happily ever after in his castle.”
Amalia’s jaw dropped, too stunned to answer. This ought to be a farce. He was building up her hopes, only to crush them more thoroughly later. There was no way that this man, the very man who’d threatened to have her hanging from a rope mere hours ago, would consider marrying her. This was only some sick and cruel joke he was playing on her.
“Don’t go imagine anything,” he warned, interrupting the rambling of her thoughts. “My goal was always to have dominion over you, and control the rest of your life. And there isn’t a better way to own a woman than to marry her. By becoming my wife, you will lose the last shreds of independence you have. You will have no rights unless I have granted them to you, and I’ll be your persecutor until death do us part.”
There it was. This made so much more sense than him being willing to take her as a wife for the sake of their daughters. In this world, women were nothing more than their husband’s possession, so irrelevant they couldn’t do anything without their approval or knowledge.
While his threats were worrying, the solution was actually perfect. She would get to remain a mother to the twins, and for as long as she was his wife, he wouldn’t send her away to prison or have her hanged. It would ruin the image of his dukedom, which he surely wouldn’t want to tarnish. So this meant that by marrying him, she and the girls would be safe until one of her brothers could come and save them.
He waited for her to respond, but given her silence, he spoke again. “That’s if you’re even able to sell the part. How is your Spanish?”
“ Es impecable, tu pretencioso tonto ,“ Amalia answered, unable to resist the dig.
A flame of amusement danced in his eyes. “Let us keep it friendly, love.” The smirk he gave her, one she knew so well, melted her insides. “So now that we have our back story, let’s discuss my terms and conditions.” He downed the rest of his whiskey and put the glass on the table, leaning toward her with his elbows on his knees. “You will take lessons. I cannot have a duchess that ridicules me with her poor manners. You will learn how to fit into my world, how to follow the rules of your rank, and leave the bohemian side of you forever. On that same note, you will respect my authority. I’m not expecting you to contain yourself at all times, but I won’t have you insult me in front of people.”
Amalia was about to protest when he raised a finger. “Remember that I can, at any point, have you thrown in a sanitarium or a coven, even when we are married. And those are the kind options, where I don’t have you hanged for what happened back then.” He looked at her, making sure she knew he wasn’t joking.
“If you are to be my wife, the task of giving me an heir falls on you. You will give me access to your chambers until you give me two sons.”
“Once every two months,” Amalia counter-offered, hoping someone would have come to save her before she’d have to fill this duty. To maintain the appearances, she came up with another condition. “And you don’t touch me when pregnant, since this is all purely reproductive.” Aiden’s gaze darkened.
“Once a month, and if after a year you haven’t been pregnant, once a week. Also, don’t worry, I hardly think I will want to touch you when you are gestating. And to prove how accommodating I am, I will even add in a treat, to sweeten the bargain. You can choose your night, every month.” Amalia agreed with a nod.
“You won’t have affairs,” he told her. “Whether it is before, or after the two sons.” He paused, looking for more things he could demand of her.
“Are you done?” she bitterly asked.
“Yes, for now. I will let you know if I think of anything else.”
“Now, for my terms and conditions,” she told him. He raised an eyebrow, surprised. “I will still have a say in the education of my daughters. You will respect me as well. If I’m to become the perfect duchess, you will be the ideal husband. If you cause some big scandal with your affairs, your visits to my chambers will be revoked for a trimester. So you better be discreet. Also, we won’t tell Ailia and Maeve that you are their natural father. Not right away. They wouldn’t understand.”
“And what are you bargaining with, Amalia?” he asked, intrigued by her boldness. “I hold all the cards, remember?”
“If we have to fight for the twins, you will win in the end, that is certain. But not before your daughters know you got rid of their mother. And you can believe me when I say they would never trust you again. If I’m on your side, however, I can help make them like you.” She looked at him, feeling victorious. “So you see, it’s also in your interest that everything unfolds smoothly.”
She finished her glass, stood up, went to him and put her hands on his forearms that were laying on each armrest. “Also, if we reach an agreement, you get me ,” she added, making sure he had a view down her cleavage. “Is that not what you have wanted all these years? To own me?”
His eyes moved up from her chest, and he gave her a dubious look. “You overestimate your value, love.”
If his hands hadn’t been gripping the padded surface of the chair, to the point that his knuckles were turning white, she could have believed him. With a winning smile, she bent to his ear.
“I don’t think so,” she murmured. She hesitated when she heard the low growl that rolled in his throat, but she found strength in the knowledge that she was winning. She moved back and drowned in his icy blue eyes. “If we marry, I will become your legal property. You get to own me for the rest of my life. Isn’t it what you want, Aiden? To own my body? To control me? To decide my fate?”
She was feeling terrible about this, about the idea of selling herself like that. But she wouldn’t miss this opportunity. She didn’t want to become Aiden’s, but she needed to, for Ailia and Maeve. At least for a few months, until she could get out of this situation.
He groaned with frustration and she decided to push him just a smidge further, adamant to win. One of her hands left his forearm, and she boldly sent it down to his crotch. With a deft move, she laid it against the bulge there, molding her palm and fingers on it. The size and the hardness of it almost made her recoil, but she pressed further instead, knowing she was seconds away from victory.
“Don’t you want to own me, Aiden?” she whispered in his ear. Compelled to, either by her desire to control him or by his clean scent, she nibbled at his lobe, reveling in the dangerous grunt he let out.
His iron-clad grip was suddenly around her wrist, and he shoved her hand away, his other fingers wrapping around her throat. He held her close to him, his mouth inches from hers, and she trembled under his touch. The hand under her jaw was powerful, but its grip wasn’t as threatening as he could have made it. With a simple pressure from it, he could rob her of her life entirely. But what was in his eyes wasn’t this kind of danger. No, it was something she didn’t know what to make of. Something that resonated deep within her, into her core.
“I agree to your conditions,” he finally conceded, displeased. He released her and she moved away from him, passing a hand on her throat. Her skin tingled where he’d touched it, warm and fuzzy.
A mix of conflicted feelings flooded Amalia’s mind. Her battle was won, but she felt as if she’d lost everything. She was giving up on her precious independence. If no one ever came to their rescue, she would be subjected to Aiden’s will for the rest of her life.
But the outcome was worth it. The twins’ safety was enough to counterbalance all of this. They would all play along with this farce for as long as necessary. And as much as she hoped it wouldn’t last a lifetime, it was still better than so many other outcomes that could have played out.
Feeling the sudden need to be with her daughters, Amalia moved a few steps back.
“I will be sleeping with the girls,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. Holding together the pieces of her shattering heart, she left him, heading for the twins’ room.
She would make it work. There was no other choice.
The song is “the passion”. It’s a mix of several emotions, and I felt like it was a nice fit! Symphony No. 49 in F Minor Hob.I:49 La Passione: II. Allegro di molto, by Franz Joseph Haydn.
【32】The Marquesa
Concerto a cinque No. 2, Op. 9: I. Allegro e no presto, by Tomaso Albinoni.
The next morning, the suite was particularly animated. Domestics were packed, and Lambert had come back with several outfits for Amalia and the twins, and a seamstress for some touch-ups.
Aiden was in a small study, trying to organize their trip, writing letters to the people involved. One to the dressmaker in London, so she could prepare several options to pick from. One letter was going to Langston manor for them to organize everything. He paid particular attention to the one he wrote to Lady Bowford, stating he wouldn’t be able to visit her for a while. Hopefully, his mistress wouldn’t make a fuss about it. Not that she was possessive or jealous, but she’d let him understand he was currently her favorite lover. Surely, she would miss not seeing him as often as they used to. She knew he was looking for a woman to marry, but it was happening much earlier than he had originally planned. Maybe once things would have settled in a few months, they would resume their affair.
The most important letter he wrote was destined to the Archbishop, asking for a dispensation, allowing them to marry without all the regulatory necessities. He was just done when the girls erupted in the room.
“Look, Aiden!” Maeve demanded, showing off her outfit. Ailia did a twirl, making her dress twist around. Their happiness was contagious, so a smile naturally appeared on his lips. The dresses were simple and ready-to-wear, but it was already better than the old ones they had been wearing.
“Mommy says we have to thank you for them!” They came to him, made him lower down, and one after the other smacked a kiss on his cheeks. His heart swelled in his chest, the spontaneous gesture of the sisters affecting him deeply.
Aiden watched as they exited the room, giggling and running. God, they were adorable.
He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he was a father. It wasn’t exactly a miracle, but he would have never suspected the existence of the twins.
When he came out to the living area, a childish grin still on his face, he found Amalia on the balcony, looking at the view. Wondering if marrying her wasn’t the biggest mistake he would ever make, he observed her from afar. Clearly, there was still something between them, but the boundless passion had turned into bitter resentment. They were broken, but it was too soon to tell if they could repair it or not. He wanted the girls to be happy, and keeping their mother was an essential part of achieving that.
Also, this was the perfect plan. He wanted to own her. By marrying him, she was renouncing any freedom she could have ever aspired to. She would have to rely on him for the rest of her life, and he knew how much she valued her independence.
Too many years had passed, too many things had happened, so he couldn’t claim he knew her any longer. But the Amalia he knew would have never been fine with this. She used to be untamable and stubborn. He doubted she had changed to the point where she’d become the perfect and obedient wife he demanded of her.
Discovering how things would evolve was both appealing and intriguing.
Still, it was in both their interests, and that of the girls, if things could be as smooth as possible between them. Deciding that showing his willingness to improve the situation could be constructive, he went to join her on the balcony. He guessed the moment she sensed his presence, because she tensed imperceptibly.
Moving near her, he leaned forward next to her with his elbows on the stone banister. With his eyes on the street below them, he avoided looking at her.
“Did you sleep well?” he cordially asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Very well, thank you. Did you?”
“So did I,” he lied. He had barely slept at all. Between the thought of their upcoming wedding, and the overwhelming concerns about his newly gained fatherhood, it had been hard to sleep soundly. Also, the woman had purposefully driven him mad with lust last night, only to leave him hard and aroused. That hadn’t helped.
He finally turned to look at her, admiring her delicate profile. As always, she was gorgeous. Her coarse brown dress had been discarded, and she now wore a peach-colored one that accentuated her natural complexion. Her long and dark strands were styled in a sophisticated bun, with curls dangling around her face. If she could pull it off, she would be the most gorgeous duchess this country had ever seen.
“How long until we reach London?” she asked.
“About two days. It will depend. Do the girls get sick while traveling?”
Amalia turned to him, a funny look on her face. “Us, bohemians, don’t get sick when traveling, your Grace.” Aiden smiled, enjoying the lightness of their exchange. Maybe things didn’t have to be all pain and arguments after all.
“Well, many of us, Langstonians, get severely sick when it comes to transportations, Miss Romero,” he responded, almost getting her to chuckle. “I’m glad they got their strong stomach from your side of the family.”
She smiled and looked back at the crowd under them. After a moment, she turned to him, some inner conflicts veiling her features. “Aiden… I was wondering if you would agree to a truce? For the sake of the girls?”
So she had reached that conclusion too. They might never forgive each other, but they had to try to get along for Ailia and Maeve.
“As in, you don’t insult me, and I try not to make you want to insult me?” he asked with humor.
A smile was on her face when she fully turned to him. “Something like that, yes.”
She held out her hand for him to shake. He looked down at her slender fingers and, after a brief hesitation, he slipped his hand in hers to seal their agreement. The shivers that ran up his arm confirmed his earlier suspicions. Yes, there definitely was still something between them.
A masculine voice shouting from the inside of the suite broke their connection. “What is this nonsense!” yelled the voice.
Confused, they entered to see what was happening. When his eyes accommodated, he recognized the newcomer. Aiden cringed, already knowing this was something he didn’t want to have to deal with.
Lord Worthington, along with his wife, daughter, and young son, were in the middle of the living room, in full apparel. Amalia stared at them, confused as to what was happening. Holding back a growl, Aiden went to the unwelcomed family.
“Worthington. Miladies. Young man. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“We received your message, and heard you were leaving Bristol,” the baron explained. “Also, we thought we would pay you a visit and inquire when we shall get a visit from you again.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be coming back.”
“But— But you…” The poor man seemed to be on the verge of having a stroke. “You cannot, your Grace! Our lovely daughter, we thought you would—”
“Lord Worthington, you forget your place,” Aiden menacingly reminded him. “Nothing was agreed on, and if I remember correctly, I never stated that I wished to marry Lady Harriet.”
“Pardon me, your Grace. Of course not… But you see, we thought— And then we come here— And you are with…” Lord Worthington gestured toward Amalia.
Using this opportunity, Aiden took her arm and brought her next to him, ignoring the wide eyes she gave him. “Allow me to introduce you to Marquesa Romero, whom I will be marrying in under a week.”
Lord and Lady Worthington glared at Amalia’s modest dress, her stature, and Aiden could see how confused and appalled they were.
The baron was clearly having a hard time understanding his choice, and it seemed he wasn’t about to let this unfold without a fight. “But, she is not—”
“Be careful, baron. This is the future Duchess of Leeds you are talking about.”
The baron bowed slightly, still unsettled. Having heard the commotion, the twins joined them in the salon. Ailia took Amalia’s hand, and to Aiden’s surprise, Maeve came by his side. Because she was clearly bolder than her sister, the latter offered the visitors a curtsy and a smile.
“Good morning. I’m Lady Maeve,” she told them, still delighted by the title she’d been granted.
No one answered her, staring at her with shock instead. The son was the only one to greet her back. “I’m Lucian Thorne,” he told her with a nod.
Knowing this wouldn’t fail to obliterate whatever hopes the baron might have left, Aiden gently grazed his daughters’ heads. “These, Lord Worthington, are Ailia and Maeve, my future stepdaughters.”
That was the last drop, and it made the baron red with anger. Lady Worthington seemed about to faint, and Lady Harriet, being true to herself, kept looking at the floor. Before he could say something he would most certainly regret, Lord Worthington took his women and exited the room, fuming. The son stood there awkwardly, staring at the twins with perplexity. After a moment, he bowed slightly and left, running to catch up with his family.
“Who was that?” Maeve asked.
“Just a grumpy old man,” Aiden explained.
“He looked silly.”
Aiden smiled, glad to see the girls already had some taste. The baron had looked silly indeed, with his colorful outfit and ridiculous wig. When he turned to Amalia, he realized something was wrong. She looked troubled. Whatever was happening within her, he better handle it now, before it came back and blew in his face.
So he kneeled to the level of the girls. “Can you two make sure your toys are well packed? Also, to see if Bunbun and Albert are ready?”
“It’s Alfred!” they answered in unison before running back to their room.
When they were out of sight, Aiden got up and turned to Amalia. “What is it, love?”
“Stop calling me ‘love’.”
She gave him an irked glare before walking away with annoyance. Aiden rolled his eyes and followed her. “Amalia, talk to me.”
“Don’t come close to me, you lying arse.”
There it was. The first of many conflicts that would surely define the entirety of their marriage. She was too warm-blooded for things to be smooth and unproblematic. “Well, that was about the shortest truce in human history,” he remarked.
They were reaching his room when Amalia finally faced him. “Well, you weren’t supposed to make me insult you, remember?”
“What on Earth have I done?”
Exasperated, Amalia pointed to the door. “You were going to marry that girl! You wanted to give her your name, your children.”
“So what? Did you expect me to never ask another woman to marry me?”
She frowned and nervously touched her necklace, understanding the absurdity of her fit of rage. “It’s not that… It is just… That girl and me, we couldn’t be more different.” He waited for her to elaborate. “You cannot want to marry someone like her, then marry someone like me the next day.”
Aiden was angered by her attitude. He didn’t owe her anything. She was the one who had left him, not the other way around. Yes, he’d wanted to marry, and had found the perfect woman for it. But things were now different, and it was in his best interest to marry Amalia rather than Lady Harriet. He was doing it for the twins, so she had no right to be angry at him about this.
“But you see, I’m not marrying you for you,” he reminded her. “I’m marrying you for the sake of my daughters. So that explains why I went from the perfect candidate to you.”
When unmistakable sadness appeared on her features, he understood how hard he’d gotten to her. Despite owing her nothing after what she’d done to him, he regretted his harsh words. She ought to be as troubled as him in these complicated times, and it was understandable she would be as disoriented as he was. She seemed to hesitate on what to answer for an instant, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Aiden wondered if he should apologize, not wanting to make matters worse between them.
Short for words, she gave up, her shoulders sinking with defeat, evident distress in her eyes. As she headed out, he fought the urge to grab her when she passed by him.
Aiden clenched his teeth and didn’t hold back a frustrated sigh. He still remembered how hard he’d worked for things to be easy between them all those years ago. If it had been complicated back then, it seemed accomplishing this feat would be nearly impossible now. He wasn’t sure he could ever trust her again. All he could do was hope that she didn’t have another vicious plan this time.
Dismissing his worries, he left the room in search of Lambert, to make sure everything was in order. He would deal with this one problem at a time. First, secure things by marrying Amalia, and then find a way to make things work.
Despite all the ruckus, they left for London on time. Aiden was seated next to one of the girls, and Amalia was facing him with the other one by her side.
He took great pleasure in talking to his daughters, learning to know more about his progeny. Maeve enjoyed playing the violin, but Ailia not so much. Their favorite color was orange, and they didn’t like to eat cabbage. Ailia was born first, so her sister had to obey her because she was the oldest. Maeve seemed to disagree strongly with that logic.
After over an hour of talking, the girls fell asleep, and all they could hear was the sounds of the carriage making its way through the damaged roads. Aiden looked at Amalia with their daughter’s head on her lap.
If twenty-four hours ago someone had told him he would be married and be happy to take in her children by the end of the week, he would have thought them mad. If they’d told him he’d marry Amalia, he would have thrown them into a sanitarium himself. But there he was, about to marry the woman he had resented with so much passion.
A humorless smile grew on his lips as he turned to watch the rainy countryside. What a twisted turn this had taken. Fate had played a nasty trick on him; one he could have never seen coming. He was deep into his thoughts when Amalia shook him from them.
“Aiden?” He ripped his eyes from the scenery to look at her instead. She hesitated, visibly reluctant to say whatever she had on her mind. “Do you think we should… talk about what happened? Back then…”
The mere mention of it was enough to anger him, his blood warming up. “Why?”
“I want things to go well, and I think talking about it could help us.”
“What is there to talk about, Amalia? Do you want to remind me how you helped your people rob me and my family?”
A flash of guilt and shame crossed her eyes. At least she had the decency to look remorseful about it. She shook her head, the gesture barely perceptible. “Do you want to remind me how you abandoned me in the middle of the night, right after you agreed to marry me?”
She shook her head again, still prone to all sorts of feelings. “Do you want to remind me how you kept my daughters away from me for five years?”
“When I realized I was with child, it was too late, I couldn’t come back,” she tried to defend herself, something broken in her voice. But he wouldn’t let her manipulate him so easily. This time around, he would be merciless.
“For how long have you been back in England?”
A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, landing in Ailia’s hair. She wiped the trail it had left on her skin, conflicted about what she should answer. “It’s been nineteen months,” she revealed, contritely looking away.
“You see? I already know it all. There’s nothing we need to talk about. Nothing you could say can make us better.”
Defeated, she kept her eyes to the side, lost somewhere on the curtain. He returned his attention to the landscapes, despising the fact that he’d be stuck here with her for nearly two days.
“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” she let out in a small voice. “I hope you can forgive me one day.”
He turned to meet her gaze again, holding back from losing himself into the dark universe of her eyes. “You’re over five years too late. We are past the point of forgiveness. Now, there’s only room for retribution.”
Another tear flowed down her tanned skin, and Aiden followed its course. This time, it fell on Ailia’s chin, who mumbled something in her sleep.
“You should start feeling sorry for yourself, love,” Aiden told her, refocusing his eyes on the countryside.
The song for this chapter is lighter than the last few ones we’ve had, because things are a little smoother, although we’re far from out of the woods yet. Concerto a cinque No. 2, Op. 9: I. Allegro e no presto, by Tomaso Albinoni.
【33】London
Minuet in A major D. 334, by Franz Schubert
London was a revelation. It was Amalia’s first time in the capital, and she could never have imagined a city could be so great. It was like a gigantic beehive, with constant activity surrounding them. There was something happening on every corner, people going on with their lives, shops, merchants, sellers, coaches…
It reminded her of Paris, but there was something about London that called to her. Maybe it was because Aiden was taking them to the richest areas and neighborhoods, while she’d only been in the poor parts of Paris when she’d been there. The smell wasn’t as bad, the buildings were opulent, and the streets were clean, despite the horse droppings along the roads.
Because she was constantly tempted to look everywhere, distracted by their surroundings, watching the girls was a struggle of every minute. Thankfully, Ailia and Maeve were behaving for the most part, busy maintaining the endless flow of questions they had for either her or Aiden.
Their stop to the capital was almost ending, and they had barely touched ground ever since they had arrived four days ago, after a lengthy trip. They were staying at Langston Hall, Aiden’s family’s residence, which allowed them more privacy than a hotel.
When they had first arrived, there had been the matter of the dressmaker. Two entire days of fittings, choosing colors, fabrics, cuts, shoes, hats, gloves… All of it under the attentive gaze of her husband-to-be. He had insisted on dresses lighter than the ones in fashion, knowing that Amalia wasn’t comfortable with corsets. The excuse to the dressmaker had been that they weren’t used to wearing that many layers in Spain. Also, he had demanded that she wore no vivid colors nor low cuts for the cleavage.
He had ordered a ridiculous amount of things, and Amalia was embarrassed by it all. She would have fifteen dresses upon departing from London, and then thirty delivered to Langston manor. With that, a different hat for each outfit, different shoes, gloves… Until now, Amalia had been managing with three dresses, and the idea of having forty-five of them seemed ludicrous.
To their greatest pleasure, the girls were getting a complete wardrobe, too. They, however, didn’t feel embarrassed at all. There would be twenty dresses per girl, ten of which would be assorted to one another. When they asked if they could have tiaras, Amalia was mortified, but the amused seamstress had told them she didn’t make jewelry.
Then, when the matter of the clothes was dealt with, Aiden had insisted for them both to meet with a never-ending flow of potential tutors and nurses. They’d had the hardest time agreeing on which one to choose. Aiden wanted someone more firm, while Amalia preferred someone with a more tolerant temper. Sometimes, he would ask the applicants questions that disconcerted her. It had nothing to do with the twins, and it took her a moment to understand it was for her. Aiden was looking for someone able to teach the children, but also a duchess, regarding etiquette and manners.
It was humiliating to think that someone would give her lessons at her age. But Amalia had no choice in this matter and had to comply. It was part of their agreement, after all. She still remembered how proper, elegant, and sophisticated Aiden’s mother was, and she doubted she could ever reach that level of perfection. For too long, she had been a bohemian, and she certainly couldn’t turn a lifetime of habits into what her new life demanded.
Since he knew better than her what kind of person they were looking for, he didn’t allow Amalia’s opinion to interfere too much and chose an austere old woman who seemed strict and stiff. He also settled on a tutor for dance lessons, who would also correct her bearing. As for the nurse, he let Amalia choose, and she picked one who seemed patient and attentive.
That had been another long day.
But today… Today would be the longest day.
Today, she was getting married.
They had just arrived at a small church in downtown London, and Amalia couldn’t stop herself from twisting her hands anxiously. Ever since they had reached an agreement, she had known that they would get married. But now that she was incredibly close to it, the truth was finally sinking in.
She would tie herself to a man who loathed her. Until death parted them, or until one of her brothers got her message, she would be married to Aiden. It had seemed like an acceptable price back then, but she could see now how high it actually was. She sourly regretted not trying to flee, back in Bristol. Aiden’s threat had scared her too much to attempt anything, but what would happen today seemed much worse than what she would have risked then.
His dominion over her would be absolute, like a property, like cattle. She would lose her autonomy, her identity, her independence. And she had no idea how he would treat her once he had absolute power over her. His attitude toward her was inconsistent, and she never knew what to expect. Just like her, he was probably struggling to find some balance. On one side, he resented her still for what she’d done. But on the other, he wanted to do what was best for their daughters, and finding harmony in their marriage was preferable on so many levels.
He had been acting distant ever since they’d departed from Bristol, and she hoped he would remain the same in the long term. He was treating her with detached coldness, reserving his occasional smiles and moments of tenderness for the twins.
Both of them were already quite fond of him, which was easily understandable, given how he’d showered them with gifts. They were young enough to be bought, and the Duke of Leeds had the means to buy their affection a thousand times over.
Now, she was sitting on a bench in the very first row of the small church, with Ailia on her lap and Maeve on her left, the nurse a little further on the wooden seat. Amalia glimpsed at her future husband, who was talking with the priest in charge of marrying them. As their witnesses, they had brought Lambert and Maisie, Amalia’s temporary lady’s maid.
The whole situation was making her uneasy and melancholic. When she’d imagined herself marrying him years ago, she’d envisioned a romantic, intimate ceremony, somewhere on the other side of Scotland’s border. She’d never wanted a big, sumptuous wedding, but she’d at least hoped for some romance, some happiness, and some excitement. Instead, it was all very procedural, a formality to get rid of.
Amalia pressed Ailia closer to her, squeezing her against her chest, and gently caressed Maeve’s hair, seeking some courage. She was doing this for them. To keep the right to be their mother, to remain in their lives. Hopefully, they’d be freed; but if they weren’t, this was still the best option. If only they could have remained in Spain. She wished they could have kept living their happy, quiet lives, all three of them. Bohemians weren’t as condemning as Aiden’s people, even if her daughters’ blue eyes revealed their gadjie origins. A woman raising her children alone wasn’t an indecent sight back in the camps, and they had never suffered from it.
In front of her, Aiden seemed to be done negotiating with the priest, and with a hand gesture, he invited her to join him by the altar. Her heart suddenly raced in her chest, and an intense wave of apprehension overwhelmed her. She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to marry a man she loved, not a tyrant whose only wish was to control her. Her lack of reaction earned her a disapproving frown from Aiden, who clenched his teeth tightly.
Resolute not to turn this into a scene, especially since she wouldn’t win, she kissed Ailia’s forehead and settled her on the bench before standing up. It was difficult for her to breathe, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of her anxiousness or her tight dress. She was wearing the finest one the seamstress had delivered so far, a beautiful silk gown, with a light blue color that did wonders on her naturally tanned complexion. Delicate white French lace added some tasteful finesse to the dress’s design. As per Aiden’s instructions, the cleavage was moderate, and the sleeves reached the middle of her forearms. Maisie had done her hair with care, assembling her long curly locks into a beautiful bun, and she was wearing a simple pair of pearl earrings.
With every step she took closer to him, her heart seemed to beat faster, and her lungs struggled more, gasping for air. She kept her eyes on him, admiring how dashing he looked. His suit was tailored to perfection, enhancing how strong his body was, his broad chest and shoulders, his muscular legs…
Even though this was only a formality, she could see he had worked on his appearance with care today. His fresh haircut and close shaving were proof of it.
By the time she reached him, Amalia was barely breathing, knowing that she was on the verge of a panic attack. She stopped next to him, facing the priest, holding back the trembling of her jaw. The old man spoke, but she could barely make out the words. How had she gotten here? Why was she allowing this to happen?
The girls. She was doing it for the girls. She turned around to glimpse at the twins, sitting quietly on the bench, their new nurse by their side. Maeve waved at her with a toothy smile, and it sent a soothing wave of tenderness through Amalia’s body.
Yes, all of this was for the best. Even if she spent a lifetime by the side of the wrong man, Amalia knew the girls would always be cared for. They would always have a roof above their heads, food, clothes… Her sweet daughters would receive a better education than she could ever have given them. They would lead opulent lives, with afternoon teas and biscuits, in magnificent houses, just like she’d hoped she would a long time ago. Yes, the girls deserved all of this, and Amalia wanted to be there to see them grow into incredible women.
As she tried to rationalize everything, Amalia realized marrying Aiden wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Even if none of her brothers received the letter she’d prepared, things might turn out alright. If sacrificing her own happiness meant that Ailia and Maeve would have an idyllic life, then it was a price she was ready to pay. Their prosperity in exchange of her happiness seemed like a good bargain; one she’d make a few times over.
When she turned back to face the minister, she was feeling better, knowing it was all worth it, regardless of the outcome.
Despite feeling better, she was aware of how regulatory the ceremony was. No one could ever mistake it for a marriage of love.
The old man seemed to go on forever, reading the words from his holy book. Amalia had never been to a church wedding, and she hadn’t imagined the solemnity of the process. She was shaken out of her boredom when Aiden spoke, breaking the monotonous pitch of the priest. “I will,” he said, his voice grave and deep.
The man then turned to Amalia to ask her the same question. “Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Her heart clutched at the mention of love. The obedience she would promise also bugged her, but it was a part of her agreement with Aiden, regardless of what vows she ought to make. When she spoke, her voice was weaker than she’d wished. “I will.”
After a nod, the minister made Aiden repeat the words. Aiden’s tone was deprived of any trace of emotions, and once more, the lies and irony weren’t lost on Amalia. For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish… Amalia repeated the same vows, the only difference being that she swore obedience once again, a fact that lingered bitterly in the back of her mind.
The exchange of the ring happened with barely any contact, Aiden reciting once more some mandatory words. Then, they compliantly kneeled as the priest prayed. When he reached for both their hands, Amalia panicked, and when he put her palm over Aiden’s, she looked up at the man she was marrying. For the first time since they had gotten here, she met his blue irises. The link of their gaze, coupled with their joined hands, his palm so big and warm, their skin touching, made her heart race in her chest.
The priest kept talking, but she barely heard any of it, lost in the moment, focused solely on Aiden. He was the man she’d loved. The only one she’d ever wanted to marry. And now it was happening. In this moment, she wasn’t seeing the cold and arrogant duke, but the young, optimistic, and loving man she once knew. Maybe, just maybe, this man she used to love was still in there, somewhere. Just like his eyes were the same, his heart could be, too.
She guessed he was having some conflicting thoughts as well, his intense, glacial gaze suddenly uncertain, almost confused. They were swearing each other a lifetime of faithfulness, and even if it was out of resentment or hatred, even if they didn’t mean it, the facts remained the same. They were being married before God. She would be the most important woman in his life, and he would be the only man in hers. Something powerful, life-changing, was happening between them, in this small church, with three servants, their daughters, and a priest.
Aiden was clearly understanding all this too, as he suddenly broke the connection of their gazes, turning to the minister, uneasy.
“…and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” the priest concluded. Or at least, Amalia thought it was over, until he turned his page, ready to say more.
How much longer can this ceremony be?! she thought, slightly irritated. She wasn’t used to kneeling, and this position was highly uncomfortable.
“We are done here,” Aiden interrupted, letting go of her hand abruptly. He ignored the old man’s disapproving glance and stood up with his natural grace. After a slight hesitation, he extended his hand to Amalia, kindly offering his assistance. She considered using the bar next to her instead, but she wasn’t sure how well she could do on her own with her tight dress.
Having no other choice, she slipped her hand in his, a shiver running up her arm from this simple contact, and he gripped her firmly but carefully, pulling her until she was on her feet. They exchanged a quick glance, and Amalia went to the twins, who seemed to have had enough of this, and were now having a slight argument.
She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, and tried to ignore the apprehension that was overwhelming her. There it was. She was married to Aiden, and there was no going back. Now she had to move forward. They all had to.
Amalia fell on her bed, exhausted. She had wanted to isolate herself ever since they had come back from the church, and hours later, it was finally happening. The girls had been sent to bed after a rapid dinner with just the three of them, and she could now be alone with her tumultuous thoughts.
She’d come home with the twins and the domestics, while Aiden had gone to take care of the last legal process that would tie this family together. The closest thing he could do to make the twins his, without actually declaring them as his own, was to make them his wards. He had arranged for all the papers to be prepared, and was now legally responsible for their well-being, endorsing a role as important as Amalia’s in the eyes of the law.
Those few hours without him had been a blessing, as she dreaded the interactions they would share from now on. He was her husband, and the reverence she owed him mortified her. She’d promised to obey him, both in her vows and in their agreement, but she wasn’t certain she could. Not to the extent he demanded of her.
Raising her left hand, she looked at her ring, admiring the simple jewel. It was a gold band, with no details embedded, and a small stone cast in the precious metal. She wasn’t sure if the fact that it was a ruby, just like the engagement ring had been, meant something. But she liked to think Aiden had put some thought into it, instead of picking something random.
She let her hand fall back on the thick covers with a sigh, wondering for the hundredth time today how her life could have changed so much, so fast.
Two firm knocks on the door startled her, cutting her nostalgia short, and she sat up at once. “Yes?”
After a second, the door opened, and her heart fluttered when Aiden came in, a thick lump suddenly forming in her throat. She quickly rose to her feet, distancing herself from the bed.
He entered without a word and closed the door behind him, his gestures uneasy and ponderous. He remained there, silent, trying to come up with something to say. It was odd to see him lacking confidence so much, and a surge of worry twisted her guts. Had something happened? Why was he here?
“What is it?” she asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer.
He cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to his face to distractedly graze the blade of his jaw. Finally, he met her eyes, and his intense stare made something flutter in her chest. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low, as if the words were costing him greatly.
“I was wondering, wife , if you wanted to make this your night of the month, since the occasion calls for it.”
The song I chose is fragile, a little romantic, melancholic, and I thought it went pretty well with the chapter:
Minuet in A major D. 334, by Franz Schubert.
【34】Consummation
Symphony N. 104 in D major, Hob. I:104 “London”: II. Andante, by
Franz Joseph Haydn
Your night of the month…
Amalia’s jaw dropped slightly as she understood what he meant. He wanted them to— But they— She was…
Her mind went in every direction, unsure what to say, how to react. She didn’t feel ready to share any sort of intimacy with him. She was barely getting over the fact that they were married, and now he wanted them to act on it?
It was what the tradition called for, yes. It was mandatory for newlyweds to follow the ceremony with shared intimacy in the bedroom, so the man could claim his wife’s body and innocence. But they were past that, weren’t they? They had children together, for heaven’s sake. He was her lawfully wedded husband, and she wasn’t in a position where she could oppose it, were the marriage consummated or not.
Dismayed, she looked at the man standing before her, unsure what to respond. Still having a hard time believing any of this was true, she observed him. He had removed his necktie, jacket, and waistcoat, and had rolled up his sleeves. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and she gazed at the triangle of skin exposed there. Her throat dried up at the sight he offered. Truly, he was a magnificent specimen. This man, who could have had any woman here or on the continent, was now tied to her .
Ever since their night together, when they were young and naive, she had never felt the desire to renew the experience. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it – on the contrary. But she had never been attracted to a man like she was to him. Also, having two children had pushed her to conduct herself like a decent woman, so her daughters wouldn’t suffer from some bad reputation she could have earned.
However, it was now different. It wouldn’t be a sin, not with the bonds of marriage between them. It was their wedding night, and it was their deal, after all. One night a month. One of her choosing.
There would be at least months until anyone received her note. So she wouldn’t be able to escape this moment with him. Maybe if she got over with it now, and waited until the last possible moment for their next time, she could avoid more of it. It was the very beginning of June, after all, and if she could pick any day in July, she might as well pick the last one. In two months’ time, it was possible that Paul or Sebastian would have delivered her.
All things considered, maybe tonight was a good one to respect her part of the bargain.
If she had insisted so much on their sexual encounters to be so limited, it wasn’t because she doubted her enjoyment of it. It was because she worried her heart might fall once more for him, as easily as it had done in the past. And this time, he would break it to the point where it would never recover.
Despite the letter she’d addressed to her brothers, there was still a chance she’d spend the rest of her life by the side of this ridiculously handsome man. But she would never really have him. They would live separate lives together.
He would have mistresses, a plethora of them, and would slowly drift away from her, until he would abandon her in his castle up north, leaving her alone to take care of their children while he’d lead a debauched life in London. Amalia refused to be a brokenhearted, discarded wife, finishing her days wishing she had a better husband.
When she had agreed to his conditions, she’d told herself she had to shut her feelings off when they were to consume their marriage. The idea was to get on with it, and then resume her life as it was. It was to be a matter of the flesh. Feelings and emotions were to be discarded while it happened.
Now that she thought of it, the faster it would be dealt with, the better. If they got it out of the way now, she would have an entire month free of worries. She looked at him, still standing at the door, waiting for her to answer, and transferring his weight from one foot to another, apparently as conflicted as she was.
“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed.
He didn’t move, and her voice had been so small that she thought he might not have heard. She was about to repeat when he finally nodded and walked to her. Aiden reached her, and slowly, as if she were a frightened doe, he put his hands on her hips. For some reason, it didn’t feel as wrong as she thought it would. Not as wrong as when he’d done it, back at the hotel in Bristol.
“Amalia,” he called, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “Look at me, love.”
She obeyed and tilted her face up, swallowing away the nervous lump in her throat. They were so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath caressing her face. Actually, she could even smell the unmistakable scent of alcohol in the air he breathed out. He had been drinking before coming to her. Was it to give himself the courage to risk her rejection, or was it because he needed it to be intimate with her?
The way he was looking at her was confusing, his eyes reflecting complex thoughts she couldn’t fathom. His gaze lingered over her lips for a moment, and after a momentary hesitation, he slowly bent forward to press his mouth on hers. Before he could reach his goal, she turned her head away. It was too intimate. She remembered how good he was at it, and how it had gotten her to forget all her boundaries in the past.
“No kissing,” she insisted.
Her decision seemed to annoy him as he straightened up stoically, his expression impassive. The soft man he’d been moments ago was gone. Without a word, he turned her around and proceeded to untie her dress. Biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from protesting, she let him, having a hard time ignoring the intense beating of her heart. With shrewd moves, he got rid of her clothes until she was only left with her chemise and stockings. Once more, he turned her around, so she was facing him again, and when he reached for the hem of her shirt, she stopped him.
“I would like to keep it on,” she asked. This time he let her know his frustration with a sigh.
With the same abrupt and dry gestures, he undressed. Amalia went to the bed to slip between the covers, her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe properly. She tried to focus on anything but the man stripping a few feet away from her. But her eyes wouldn’t stop drifting back to him. When he passed his shirt over his head, she all but stared, impressed by his physical perfection. His torso was incredible. Each muscle was easily distinguishable, and every move he made seemed to highlight them. He unbuttoned his pants, and when he pulled them down, Amalia swiftly looked away.
Still broodingly silent, he went to the other side of the bed and slid under the sheets to join her. When his strong hand grabbed her hip and pulled her to him, her entire body tensed. An intense shiver struck her when he pressed her against his naked shape, the warmth of his skin penetrating through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her reactions had nothing to do with reluctance or disgust. His touch troubled her, and she was aroused by his closeness. His lips sought hers again, but she twisted her face away, so they landed on her throat. She trembled when the wet, warm brush of his tongue grazed her thin skin, taking in a sharp breath. Her body was awaking slowly to his ministrations, and it would be hard to deny it what it demanded. He stayed there for a while, tasting her while his hands caressed her shapes. Everywhere he touched, it seemed as if he set her skin on fire, leaving incandescent trails on her body with his hands and lips. Oh, God, his mouth was the worst part. Or was it the best?
In seconds, she was feeling hot, too hot for it to be comfortable. Needing to cool down, she was tempted to push the covers away. But she resisted her impulse to do so. She felt as if they were protecting her, keeping her body hidden from his view, making all of this less intimate.
Helpless and silent, she endured the sweet torture he was inflicting on her. Every time he touched her, a wave of pleasure ran through her. She had to focus her hardest not to let it show, holding back her sighs, her shivers, her desire to touch him back. A hand found her breast, and she had to bite her lips not to moan when it tenderly fondled it. He was taking his time, and with each second that passed, Amalia was closer to giving in.
“Do you think you can go faster?” she asked, her voice rougher than she had hoped. “I’m exhausted, and I would like for this to be over.”
Stopping the course of his mouth on her shoulder, he moved up to give her an irked glare. She thought he would say something, but instead, he complied and moved to be over her, between her spread thighs. Naively, she thought he would go faster, as she’d asked, but when he bent to kiss one of her breasts, she understood he was far from being done tormenting her. He easily found a nipple under the fabric of her shirt, and closed his mouth around it, biting it gently, just enough to make something throb low in her stomach. The pleasure was so intense that she could barely conceal her moan. With her hands fisted on the covers, she was tense, trying impossibly hard not to encourage him, not to beg for more.
The fabric of her thin chemise became useless, soon wet and sticky, as Aiden’s mouth sucked, bit, and licked the taut tip of her mound. When he moved to the second one, she let out a strangled protest, knowing she wouldn’t be able to take more of this before bursting.
How could she, for a second, have imagined that she could stay impassive to his touch?
Suppressing her emotions was impossible, and all she did was hold back her reactions. She was feeling everything , and she was failing miserably at not letting this man bewitch her.
Already, she was too far gone, addicted to his touch, cursing the thin veil that separated them. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted to feel this part of him, long and hard, resting firmly against her intimacy, without the barrier of the linen.
When he moved up, his mouth abandoning her nipple to kiss her throat again, she missed the feeling of his weight on her. But when he pulled her shirt up, impatient eagerness took over. His knuckles met the inside of her thigh, and the rush of pleasure from this accidental touch made her tremble and try to clench her legs, to muffle the insistent call of her center. Another quiet moan escaped her, and she bit her lower lip to prevent another one from coming out.
It was pointless to resist. Aiden was too great at this, too gifted for her not to enjoy it, not to feel everything, every emotion. Giving up, she let go of the sheets, eager to touch him, to pull him closer, to hold him tight against her. This part of their deal didn’t have to be a chore.
Her hands were barely moving up when he jerked away with a sudden move.
“God damn it!” he shouted. “Am I actually that repugnant to you?” Not waiting for her answer, he quickly jumped out of the bed. Holding the covers tightly against her chest, she stared at him with confusion. “I’m many things, Ama, but I don’t abuse unwilling women.” He seemed angry, frustrated, and she watched, speechless, as he collected his things on the floor.
Her restraint had been mistaken for unwillingness. Her eyes remained on him as he pulled up his pants without taking the time to fasten the buttons, and slipped his shirt over his head. She wasn’t sure if she should say something or leave him with his wrong assumptions. He went to the door, opened it, and stood in front of it for a few seconds.
“Since you are so reluctant, I won’t come to you again,” he solemnly declared, facing away from her. It was impossible to miss how much it cost him to say these words. He was letting her win, giving her the space he understandably thought she wanted. Before she could protest or explain herself, he got out and slammed the door behind him, making the walls tremble.
Amalia remained on the bed, disoriented, her body tingling with unsatisfied need. Sitting in the middle of the messy covers, she thought of what had just happened. I won’t come to you again. She was free from him. If he never asked her to fulfill her marital duties, she would be able to distance herself from him. She wouldn’t fall in love with him ever again.
It was exactly what she had wanted, and it should have made her happy.
So why was she so desperately sad?
Aiden knew that four glasses of gin were too much. He knew he shouldn’t have drunk more than two, but he couldn’t have mustered the strength to go to her otherwise.
Ever since he’d seen her by the water stream in Bristol, he had wondered. He’d wondered what it would be like to kiss her again, to hold her against him, to taste her skin… Despite his attempts to hurt her by pretending what they’d shared was nothing, he knew it was false. There was something there, between them, and abstinence had nothing to do with it.
But now that he was finally holding her, about to possess her, his impatience was slowly turning into frustration. He was trying to be as gentle as he could, to make it as pleasurable as possible for her, but not only wasn’t she responsive, she was also queasy.
When he had gotten to her room, he hadn’t imagined it would unfold like this. In his mind, she would accept his proposition faster. Instead, it had taken her forever to make a choice, and it was with a reluctant voice that she had agreed to be bedded. Then the no kissing nonsense, and how she insisted on keeping her shirt on. When he had joined her in the bed, she had been tense and squeamish, clearly not wanting to be touched, trying to quicken things…
But he was trying to make it work, for both their sakes. He had every right to be here. She was his, and it was her duty to allow him, her husband, to claim what was lawfully his. Agreeing with her that this would be a monthly occurrence was incredibly generous of him, as none of his peers would have settled for such a deal.
But even if he could spread her legs and take her, which was by any means his right, he couldn’t help but want more than that. He wanted her body, but also her soul. What they’d shared years ago was something he wanted to experience again. The communion of their beings. And even if he hadn’t wanted her in this way, he would never force a woman, never take her against her will. His wife most of all.
Her soft curves, the flowery smell of her skin, the knowledge that it was her, Amalia , made him want more. He craved all of her. But no matter how hard he tried, she remained tense and shaky, refusing to relax and enjoy it. He’d been with enough women to know he was great at this, so if she’d stop being so stubborn, the experience could be incredibly enjoyable for the both of them.
Intoxicated by her, he tried to conquer her, to overcome her reluctance, to bring out the passion laying within her. Deep down, he knew he should have stopped a while ago. But his inebriated mind was too far gone to think properly.
It was only when he pulled her shirt up that the voice of reason became loud enough to shake some sense into him. She shrugged away from him, trying to close her legs with a whimpering protest.
Fuck, what was he doing? This wasn’t right. She didn’t want this. He shouldn’t force her. Frustrated, anger rose inside of him, despising himself for what he’d done, blaming her for not being more cooperative.
“God damn it! Am I actually that repugnant to you?” he roared at her. Moving away from her soft shape, he gave her the space she so clearly wanted. As fast as he could, he got out of the bed, wanting to be away from her, from this room. He reached for his shirt and gave her a glare filled with reproach. She was sitting in the middle of the messy covers, her watery eyes glimmering in the light of the candles, holding on to the cover. “I’m many things, Ama, but I don’t abuse unwilling women.”
He wasn’t certain if this statement was for himself or for her, but it didn’t matter. It was the truth. He hastily slipped on his trousers, then his shirt, and took the rest of his clothes before heading for the door. He hesitated, filled with disgust for what he’d been about to do, and exasperated by the fact that she couldn’t just surrender and go along with things.
This couldn’t ever happen again. He wasn’t this sort of person, and he wouldn’t let her change him into a lesser man. She was the mother of his children, his wife. They would spend decades together. He couldn’t make her hate him on the very first day of their marriage. He’d preferred them to live in neutral tolerance, rather than unmasked disgust.
“Since you are so reluctant, I won’t come to you again,” he decided, knowing that anything was better than going through this again. Bitter, he slammed the door behind him and headed to his chambers.
When he reached his room, his frustration hadn’t faded off. To hell with this woman! He threw away the things he was still carrying and sat on a couch. He couldn’t believe her… She was so stubborn, so irritating. How on earth could he have thought marrying her would be a good idea?
Just a week earlier he was thinking of her as a wicked sorceress who had manipulated the gullible young man he had been. It looked like she was also able to control the man that he was now. What is that about? He wondered. Had she cast some sort of bohemian spell on him? How could he turn so irrational every time it came to her?
Aiden considered going out to change his mind. After all, they were in London, and he knew a plethora of welcoming women who would gladly accept him in their bed, and not act as if they were enduring some unbearable torture.
After giving it a thought, he changed his mind. Tomorrow they had to leave early for their four-day trip back to Langston Manor. The glass and the bottle of gin were still on the table, and he didn’t even try to resist their call, pouring himself a generous dose of it.
With a sigh, he leaned back on the couch. For a while, he stayed there, trying to imagine what his disastrous marriage would be like.
I have nothing to say for myself, and that’s all I have to say.
This chapter’s song is rather romantic, hesitant, and with twists: Symphony N. 104 in D major, Hob. I:104 “London”: II. Andante, by
Franz Joseph Haydn.
【35】Piano Lessons
Suite in B-flat Major, HWV 434: IV. Menuet, by George Frideric Handel.
Returning to the manor after all this time was incredibly strange at first. Almost nothing had changed, and Amalia was reminded of her younger self, coming here every afternoon, enjoying the place, the food, but mostly, the company. It took her a few days to be comfortable within the estate’s walls again. She’d been devouring books from the library, enjoying the afternoon tea, and spent a great deal of time outside with the twins, playing croquet, or using the doll’s tea set for a pretend picnic.
Ailia and Maeve had become the most important persons of Langston Manor in no time. The domestics were always doing everything they could to make them happy. Amalia wasn’t entirely certain if it was from their own volition, or if Aiden had given orders to the household. Thanks to their consideration, the twins were living some of the best days of their lives. They had too many distractions, too many toys, too many new people to wonder too much about what was happening, or to miss their friends. Amalia had talked to them about it all a few times, to explain this was their life now, that the one before didn’t matter anymore. But one of them would sometimes ask when they would get back to camp, or when they would see this or that friend again.
Eventually, the girls would forget about it all. They were luckily young enough for that. But instead of growing as bohemians, they would become two very proper ladies, the protegees of the great Duke of Leeds, destined for amazing lives.
After spending more time around Aiden, and seeing how amazingly he treated the girls, Amalia was convinced this was the best life they could ever get. While it had seemed like her best option back then, she now regretted writing that letter to her brothers. Given Aiden’s threats and demeanor, she’d been scared enough to resort to such a desperate solution. But while her life with him promised little happiness, her daughters’ prosperity handsomely made up for it.
The chances that one of her brothers actually got the letter were very slim, though, which alleviated her concerns regarding the matter. It could easily get lost along the way, or it could take months, if not years, before it reached them. In which case, they might not care enough to come all this way to help her.
To Amalia’s amazement, the lie of her being the widow of a Spanish Marqués was working. People in London were wondering who was this woman from the Peninsula who had snatched one of Britain’s best suitors. The servants who were already working at the manor all those years ago had been sworn to silence, with the promise of losing their job, and never finding another one again if the secret ever were to escape these walls. Appleton had made his disapproval about the marriage very obvious, but Aiden had dryly dismissed his remarks.
Secretly, she was glad to have authority over the butler and never failed to give him some annoying tasks, insisting he was the one to do it and not a footman. It was never much, like having him fetch her a book on the other side of the house, then changing her mind as soon as he came back with it to request a different one. It was puerile and childish, but it made her feel good to get some revenge for the way the stuck-up old man had treated her back then.
On their way up from London, they had stopped to visit one of Aiden’s sisters, Annabelle, who was married and had a young child with an earl, near Nottingham. They had stayed for a few days, and it had been a welcomed break from their trip.
Upon seeing her, Annabelle had instantly recognized Amalia, and the animosity she’d shown her had been hard to swallow. Aiden’s sister hadn’t even required any sort of explanation to understand who the twin’s father was, as she’d seen her brother’s eyes in them right away. Despite being close to her husband, Annabelle had kept the secret silent. However, one evening, as Amalia had been preparing to go to bed, Annabelle had come to speak with her.
“I don’t know what kind of agreement the two of you have. But I have seen you break my brother once. It took him years to get over you, and here you are, again. Let me tell you that if you hurt him, I will most definitely make you pay for it.” She had left without another word, and Amalia had spent the night dwelling on her threats.
By now, she realized Aiden had changed because of her. Her sudden departure and the conditions in which it had happened must have been painful for him. But she’d never imagined him to have been this broken. Years ? He’d taken years to get over her?
On her part, it had taken years as well to heal, but with his children around her, it made sense he’d remain in her thoughts. Knowing he’d suffer for so long was a painful revelation. She should have fought more. Back then, she should have tried harder to stay with him. It was too late to change the past, but she immensely regretted not resisting it with everything she had.
But dwelling on it was pointless now. They had to find a way to make the present work.
It had now been two weeks since they’d arrived at the family estate, and it seemed she would never truly feel like she belonged. The girls had taken their marks already, but Amalia was still struggling to feel like this was her home. She was supposedly the mistress of this manor, but it couldn’t feel further from that. But she still maintained her routine, slowly getting used to this new life.
In the morning, Ailia and Maeve had classes with their tutor. They were curious and attentive about certain subjects, but for others, Miss Belrose couldn’t get them to focus over five minutes. Amalia had to admit she was the same. The afternoons, she had lessons with the same tutor, but regarding etiquette, handling a household, hosting dinners… She was learning everything. It was as if her entire education had to be redone, and it was frankly frustrating.
She wasn’t supposed to laugh in public, had to hold her frame straight constantly, couldn’t refer to the parts of the body that were hidden, couldn’t make jokes… The most absurd part was having to look meek and delicate. Apparently, women of her rank were supposed to be dainty little creatures prone to fainting and illness. And they dared to call her people devils… Even her table manners were an absolute catastrophe, according to Miss Belrose, who swore she would never go to Spain, for only savages seemed to live there.
Amalia was just out of one of her lengthy and boring etiquette lessons, looking for a book she’d misplaced somewhere earlier this morning. She wanted to join the girls upstairs in their playroom, but had to find the novel before a maid misplaced it even further.
As she was approaching the music room, the sound of the piano came to her ears. She came closer to peek inside through the half-opened door and stopped at the picture. Aiden was sitting on the piano’s stool, Ailia at his side, and was showing her a simple melody. He made the girl repeat it, and she almost managed, only missing the last note. Patiently, he showed her again. This time she had it right, and Aiden took his position.
“Are you ready, darling?”
Ailia nodded, and Aiden gave her the start. He played something with one hand while she played the melody he’d just taught her. The result was lovely, and Ailia wriggled on her seat, happy with herself. Aiden showed her a new one that the girl learned even faster. Amalia watched them for a while, not daring to enter, fearing she would interrupt the touching scene unfolding before her eyes.
If Aiden was estranged from her, he was, on the contrary, incredibly caring and close to their daughters. From what she’d heard, while she spent her afternoons locked in a room with Miss Belrose, he used the opportunity to spend time with them, learning to know who they were and what they liked, making up for the years he’d lost.
With unmasked emotion, she watched as her husband taught Ailia how to play, never departing from his patience, regardless of how often he had to repeat the same thing. Amalia had once overheard the maids gossip while tidying her room, and she’d learned that the entire household was surprised to see how great of a father the duke was, contrary to what they had imagined.
Amalia still wasn’t sure of the man he had become, but there was no doubt in her mind that the Aiden she used to know would have been an amazing father, caring and attentive, just like he was turning out to be.
“Mommy!” Maeve called behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts
The duo on the piano stopped and turned to the door, while Amalia spun to see her daughter running at her, followed by a very embarrassed nanny, Mrs. Pots.
“Mommy, have you seen Alfred?”
Alarmed, Ailia jumped off the stool and joined them. “ Binak ! You lost Alfred?!“ She looked properly scandalized, and Amalia tried to bite back a smile, wanting to look as grave and serious as they were.
“No, the bear isn’t lost,” argued Mrs. Pots. “It’s only been misplaced. We have to look for him, that is all.”
The girls decided it was primordial to find the plush toy at once. What if he was in a dark place? He would be scared, and they couldn’t let him be scared for too long. Amalia watched the trio go away, prepared for the great Alfred hunt.
When she turned around with a smile lingering on her face, she noticed Aiden, still sitting in front of the piano, now facing the instrument. “I’m sorry we interrupted,” she apologized.
“It’s all right. We have been there for over an hour, and her attention had grown sporadic.” He paused, and his fingers elegantly moved on the white and dark keys, not pressing them. He remained silent for a moment, playing a silent melody only he could hear. Eventually, he turned to her, perplexed. “What does Binak mean?”
“It means twin ,” Amalia explained, coming closer to him. “It was very nice, what you two were playing.” She pushed a few keys randomly, playing a messy tune. The poor sound she produced made her grimace, and she gave him a sheepish smile. “I always loved it when you played the piano. It always seemed so complicated.”
“It really isn’t.” He slid further, making more room on the stool, and patted it, inviting Amalia to sit. After a momentary hesitation, she complied. “So, this is the C note.”
He showed her the whole scale, told her how the sharps and flats worked, and decided they would learn without the pedals for now. He then showed her a melody, harder than the ones he had given Ailia, and she got it right on the second try. In all truth, she was having a hard time focusing, with him so close, the warmth emanating from his body heating her side. As he had done before with their daughter, he told Amalia to start and played on his side with both hands. The result was splendid, and Amalia couldn’t hold back her proud smile.
“Now, you have to play the left hand, then we will see if you can play both at once.” He showed her, but she struggled to synchronize her movements.
“Your hands are too stiff.” Mindlessly, he put his hand over hers, molding it. “You need to be more delicate. Your push on the keys has to be more flexible.” He showed her by pushing one of her fingers, but Amalia barely felt it.
All she could feel was the touch of his large hand on hers. He always had such warm palms.
He stopped talking, his attention also directed at their touching skins. Neither of them dared to move or talk, their attention solely on this unexpected contact. After a moment, it wasn’t enough for Amalia. Slowly, she turned her hand under his. With the faintest of touches, she gently grazed the inside of his palm with the tip of her fingers, caressing his skin with tenderness. She could feel with accuracy every callus, each line… Wanting to feel more, she slid her fingers lower to touch his wrist, enjoying how the skin was thinner there. When she was out of skin to explore, she turned his hand, palm facing up, with slow moves, as if they had all the time in the world.
Aiden held his hand still as she followed the length of his fingers. She was thrown back to that evening she’d told him his fortune, reading the lines of his palm as if she had truly been clairvoyant.
It was as if time was suspended around them. They both remained silent, fearing it would break the spell. There was no more bitterness or resentment. For the span of a fleeting moment, they were just Aiden and Amalia. Overwhelmed by a burst of kindness for this man who had been so good to her daughters, she lifted his hand and pressed a long kiss in the middle of his palm.
“Thank you, Aiden,” she said, turning her face to him. He looked at her, his gaze warm and intense, and leaned in slightly, but stopped, hesitating. Understanding he wanted to kiss her, Amalia involuntarily licked her lower lip, leaving it slightly parted and glistening, eager to feel his mouth on hers. Aiden noticed, and he leaned closer, about to accept her invitation.
“We have him!” one of the girls yelled, instantly breaking the charm.
They moved away from each other, distracted by the interrupters. Maeve was proudly brandishing the stuffed bear, visibly overjoyed to have found him, after all. Shaking away the numbness that had overtaken her, Amalia got up and went to the girls. She cheered with them, giving Alfred a kiss as instructed by Ailia. All the effusions swiftly died when she announced it was time to get ready for dinner. As the girls reluctantly followed their nanny to their room, Amalia looked back at Aiden, who was focusing on the black and white keys again.
With a sigh, she left the room, leaving him alone.
Erm, yes, three updates in a day might be a lot. But I know you guys don’t care.
This piece is so, so soft, it’s super tender, I love it. And it’s piano, so it’s perfect for this chapter! Suite in B-flat Major, HWV 434: IV. Menuet, by George Frideric Handel .
【36】The Great Gift
Divertimento No. 17 in D Major, K. 334: VI. Menuet. Modernato, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart .
To his greatest surprise, Aiden was enjoying his new life. They were still slowly settling in a daily routine, but he liked the way it was all turning out.
In the morning, they would all meet for breakfast. The girls always had something to talk about, but Aiden didn’t mind. It was much better than to be sitting in awkward silence. The rest of his mornings were dedicated to the management of his estates, taking care of his investments, and answering to his correspondence. They would then join again for lunch. Amalia liked to ask the girls what they had learned with their tutor, and they often discussed about their newly learned knowledge. In the afternoons, Amalia had her own lessons, and Aiden enjoyed some time with his daughters.
He was trying his best to compensate for the five years he missed. In those few weeks since he’d met them, he believed he had spent more time with them than his own father had spent with him during the entirety of his childhood. Things weren’t supposed to unfold like this, since nurses, nannies, and mothers were to care for children in his world. A father didn’t have to be involved in the children’s education, especially when it came to girls. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though.
After so much time with them, he was seeing how different the twins were. Ailia was more cautious, more in her head. She thought about things before doing them, thinking of the consequences of her actions. Even though it didn’t prevent her from getting involved in various mischiefs with her sister. Maeve was more audacious, and she seemed to not fear anything. More than once, she’d surprised him with her boldness. She was, without a doubt, the one their nanny struggled to keep in line the most.
The other day, he was trying to read in their playroom when Ailia had screamed. A spider had installed its web in their dollhouse. Before he had reached them, Maeve was already handling the arachnid with her bare hands, walking to the window to throw it outside. Both proud of the courage of the girl and worried by it, Aiden had explained to her that some spider could bite and make her really sick. Ailia had been mortified by the revelation, whereas Maeve had dismissively shrugged her shoulders.
At their cores, they would forever be bohemians. But he was happy to see their behavior improve with each passing day. Amalia had ordered them not to speak Romani any longer, English only, but they sometimes forgot about that rule. Every now and then, he heard them talk to each other in incomprehensible gibberish. Although he had to admit it was happening less and less.
He had gifts arriving for them practically every day. The dollhouse had been a massive success, so were the tiny tiaras he had ordered from a jeweler. They insisted on wearing them most of the time, and it never failed to amuse Aiden. At first, when they put them on, they carried themselves straight and behaved like perfect little princesses. But quickly, they would forget about it and get back to their little pirate selves.
The only issue with this new life of his was his wife. His relationship with her, more specifically. Or rather, the lack of it. Ever since he had felt her repugnance for his touch, Aiden tried his best to avoid her. It seemed clear to him she was in the same state of mind. They barely saw each other and rarely spoke. It felt to him as if there was an invisible wall between them, distancing them, forbidding them from making contact.
When they had been playing the piano, the wall had lifted. Touching her had seemed like the most natural thing to do, and for a moment, they were just a man and a woman, without their history or problems. He had been tempted to kiss her and hadn’t tried to resist it, especially since she wanted it too.
Aiden couldn’t help but wonder. Had the girls not come in at that exact moment, would it have broken the curse they seemed to be under? Like in the stories that the twins enjoyed so much. Could a simple kiss make it all go away? All the pain, all the hurtful things he had told her, her betrayal?
There was no way to know. He didn’t know what to do with this woman. One moment she didn’t want to be kissed, then she did…
The most they had spoken since that moment in the music room was an afternoon a few days ago. They’d come across each other in a hallway, and she’d initiated the conversation. She’d told him she found his abundance of gifts for the girls worrying. She was afraid that he’d spoil them and asked if he intended to keep it going for much longer. Amenably, he’d agreed to stop once the month ended, feeling the need to give his daughters everything they hadn’t had for a few more days. The detachment she had spoken with had been a painful reminder that their relationship left quite a bit of room for improvement.
But he was working on himself. For the sake of their future together, he was willing to forgive her. What had happened was in the past. He was making an effort – an immense one. Why wasn’t she?
Aiden was ruminating on his thoughts in his study, wishing he had a book on how to understand Amalia Romero. For the most part, he understood women. But clearly not this one. He checked the clock on his desk and smiled upon seeing the time. A very special gift was coming today for the twins, and even one for his wife.
Leaving his dull work behind, he went to the main hall. If the people in charge of the delivery were on time, it would arrive shortly. Finding Appleton, he gave orders on what to do when it came, and then went to find his daughters. They were in the music room, having their daily music lesson with their mother. Amalia was working with Maeve on her violin, while Ailia was repeating over and over the same tunes on the piano. The nanny was sitting in a chair in the corner, waiting to be needed. Amalia noticed his presence, their eyes meeting for an instant, and she greeted him with a nod.
The twins had been learning how to play the violin for about a year now, according to Amalia. While Maeve seemed to enjoy it, it was clear that Ailia favored the piano ever since he’d shown her how to use it. It had been his great pleasure to serve as her teacher, enjoying the fact that he shared this interest with her.
As she was trying to apply herself and repeat the few melodies he’d taught her so far, Aiden felt his heart swell in his chest. Not holding back his smile, he went to sit next to his little apprentice. Patiently, he corrected Ailia’s posture, touch, and rectified the rhythm of her play.
“Mommy,” Maeve asked, putting down her instrument. “Can you teach me a piano song with the violin? So I can play with Ailia?”
“It is complicated, angel. For it to work, you two have to be very rigorous, or it won’t sound good.” Ailia’s attention wasn’t on the piano anymore. She was more interested in her sister’s request.
“But can you do it?” Maeve wondered.
Amalia hesitated, glancing at Aiden. “Yes, I have done it with Aiden in the past. So you see, you have to be as good as I am, and Ailia has to be as good as he is.”
“I’m already getting better!” Ailia argued. “Look, Mommy.” She focused and played a melody as best as she could, her little pink tongue sticking out from the side of her lips. Aiden smiled, letting out a breathy chuckle, and so did Amalia.
Maeve tugged at her mother’s skirts, demanding her attention. “Can you show us?”
Taken by surprise, Amalia took a moment to answer. “Hmm… yes, of course. If Aiden agrees, that is.”
She sent him an uncertain look, her brows knitted together. He held her gaze for a moment, feeling like they hadn’t looked at each other like this for a long time. Ailia wriggled next to him, impatient for the answer, and he eventually nodded. “Yes, why not.”
Excitedly, the girls went to sit in an armchair that faced the piano, their tiny frame fitting easily on the same seat, ready for a little concerto. Without a word, Amalia came to take place in the piano’s curve, facing him.
“Do you want us to try that piece again?” he asked, reminiscent. Years ago they had tried to play together, and it had ended with laughs.
“Have you learned the rest of the score?”
“I will manage, don’t worry,” he answered with a smile, understanding she was only teasing him.
Amalia was the one to start, so she closed her eyes and concentrated. Her notes were sharp and true, as always. Aiden waited for his cue and played, his notes as exact as hers. The piece flowed harmoniously between them, and Aiden became unaware of the time passing. When they reached the part Aiden had messed up before, he saw Amalia’s discreet smile tilt the corner of her mouth up.
They weren’t on the same instrument – they weren’t even close to each other – but Aiden felt like this was what a perfect duo looked like. His experience with Lady Harriet had been empty of emotions and sensations. However, this right there, it made all the sense in the world. They were playing together, minding each other’s rhythm and pace. This was like a conversation between them. They communicated, listened, and answered. Whenever he could, he tried to look at her, admiring the grace with which she handled her instrument. The very same violin he’d offered her years ago. Sometimes, she’d look up, and with their gazes intertwined, they played the piece, like a statement, a proof that things could work out between them, after all.
Eventually, they reached the end of the piece, and Amalia dragged the last note for as long as she could, visibly reluctant to end it.
The girls applauded with great enthusiasm, as did the nanny from the other side of the room. When Amalia’s eyes opened, she avoided his gaze. Ailia came back to sit on the stool. “I want to learn this one!” demanded the little girl, oblivious to the fact that she still had years of training before she could manage a piece of this complexity.
Before he could explain it to her, Appleton knocked on the open door. “Your Grace, it has arrived.”
Aiden grinned and invited his three women to follow him. Intrigued, they complied. Never parting with his smile, he led them to the main entrance, followed by the nanny.
“Are you ready?” he asked, entertaining the suspense. The girls nodded, hopping up and down with impatience. Amalia looked at him, slight worry pulling her gorgeous features.
He opened the main doors wide, and the girls’ faces lightened when they discovered their surprise.
Outside, on the graveled area, two stable boys were holding the bridle of three beautiful beasts – two ponies and a horse. The girls ran to them with an excited squeal, Mrs. Pots at their heels. Amalia didn’t move, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I have a few days left of gifts,” he argued before she could say anything. With one hand on her back, he pressed her to go outside, where the girls were petting one of the horses’ forehead. “The small ones are yours,” he told the girls. “I will let the two of you choose which one you want. But this one,” he added while touching the great horse’s neck. “This one is for mommy.”
The quality of the animals was to Aiden’s satisfaction. He had been corresponding with a renowned Scottish breeder and had demanded his finest horses.
The girls had short Highland ponies, two females, one gray, and the other one cream. They were already harassing the stable boys with questions. At some point, Maeve tried to get on one of the unsaddled horses, but the nanny quickly reached for her, setting her back on the safety of the grounds.
Amalia’s horse was a magnificent Thoroughbred mare. Aiden turned around to inspect the animal’s features and smiled. The price had been justified. The horse’s coat was a shiny light brown, and out in the sun like now, it almost seemed golden. Getting a horse of this caliber on such short notice was nearly impossible, but there was nothing a duke couldn’t get.
His wife was still looking at her present, a disconcerted expression on her face. It satisfied him that his present had such an effect on her. Pleasing the girls had been remarkably easy, but Amalia had refused each of his attempts to gift her with things. Turning to her, he grazed the powerful neck of the mare, appreciating the softness of her fur.
“I have been assured that she is calm and obedient. She has been trained with the greatest rigor and would suit any cavalier. She is fast as the wind, but never too steep. Her jumps are supple and her landings agile. She is slightly too tall, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” He looked at the animal, proud of his purchase. “I guess we have to take her out to see for ourselves, don’t you think?”
“Thank you, Aid… Your Grace,” she corrected when she remembered they were in the presence of people. “It’s a great present. However, I won’t be riding her.”
She had spoken with obvious dislike, and upon understanding that this gift was a failure as much as the others, Aiden felt a surge of frustration rise within him. Couldn’t she try to make things simple, for once?
Not wanting to make a scene, he took Amalia aside, irritated. “May I know why that is?”
“I don’t enjoy riding.”
Her tone was almost insolent, and the blood in his vein warmed up. How was it that everything about this woman had such an effect on him? With deep breaths, he waited for his temper to calm down. “Do you know how much this horse just cost me?”
“As I said, it is a great gift, but I didn’t ask for one,” she replied, provoked.
Their argument was about to escalate when the twins came to pull them back near the horses, declaring that they had chosen their horses. “Mine will be the gray one,” Ailia explained. “And I will call her Miss Lizard.”
“And mine is named Apple Pie!”
“Maybe we will think longer on the names,” Amalia proposed with a diplomatic voice. A voice she apparently couldn’t conjure for him.
“How are you calling yours?” he asked her with animosity.
Not intimated in the slightest, she cocked her brow at him, defying. “This one will be named Horse . Now, if you will excuse me, your Grace , I have duchess lessons to attend.”
On that, she left with a curtsey, leaving him with the girls and the nanny. He watched as his wife disappeared back into the manor, holding her frame straight, walking with assurance. Aiden was tempted to follow her, grab her by the arm, and drag her to a room for a much-needed conversation. Instead, he watched her elegant figure retreat into the house, holding back his impulses.
The rest of his afternoon was spent with the girls, which did wonders on his somber mood. With the help of the stable master, he explained to them how the horses would be taken care of. They were impatient to learn how to ride, but Aiden told them they would have to wait for the saddles to be delivered.
The ponies were designated a stall each, and a plate would be engraved with their names soon. The girls scrupulously brushed their fur, filled their mangers, gave them water… Aiden was allowing all of it on the count that it was their first day, but he explained it wasn’t their place to take care of Miss Lizard and Apple Pie. They had people to do it. When they complained, Aiden added that princesses didn’t get their hands dirty. The argument seemed to make sense, and although they were disappointed, they understood the sacrifices their ranks imposed.
Once the nanny took them inside for their afternoon nap, Aiden remained in the stables for a while. Sitting on a stool, his back against a wall, he watched the magnificent horse he’d just purchased, ruminating on his dark thoughts. This was just one more failure in his frustrating marriage, and he wasn’t sure how many of those he could endure before losing his mind.
Not that many, he feared.
The song I pick is lighter than what we’ve had lately, because this chapter felt lighter, somehow! Divertimento No. 17 in D Major, K. 334: VI. Menuet. Modernato, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
【37】Sour Waltz
The Blue Danube Waltz, Op. 314, by Johann Strauss II
While Amalia loved the commodities her new life offered, as well as her luxurious surroundings, she was quite displeased with the way her afternoons were scheduled.
The duchess lessons were insulting and embarrassing in every possible way. It was truly humiliating for a grown woman to have to relearn all of this. She had thought at the very least she knew how to walk, but even that had to change.
To add to the offense, Miss Belrose kept telling her she would never become an acceptable duchess. She knew she would probably never rise to the standards that were expected from her position, but she wouldn’t let the old bat be right about it. Not if she could help it.
Of all the lessons she had to take, the dancing ones were what Amalia preferred. Or rather, she hated those the least. The dances were nothing like what she knew, but she still enjoyed the activity, the music, the gliding… It was all much more complicated than she had originally thought, but she enjoyed a good challenge.
Maybe one of the reasons for her enjoyment was that it was, in fact, new to her. She didn’t feel useless or ignorant when learning how to dance the Gavotte, the Sarabande, the Minuet… Another thing she enjoyed was it allowed her to be around people, which barely ever happened anymore.
Mr. Holland, her dance instructor, was also in charge of correcting her posture, be it walking, eating, sitting… He was dedicated to his craft, and would always enroll the same two maids and three valets to help with the dancing lessons, in an attempt to create an illusion of a crowd. They happened to be essential when it came to group dances, which seemed to be very much in vogue.
They were all learning with her, since none of them were familiar with ballroom dances, and the support and helpfulness among them were touching and heart-warming.
Ever since the lessons had started, she always danced with the same footman, her dedicated partner. She had been friends with Marcus all those years ago, and although she was certain he had recognized her, he hadn’t said a thing about it. He treated her with respect and kind courtesy, but contrary to the other servants, he never hesitated to slip her a joke or treat her as a friend would. She needed this kind of friendly attention much more than she was willing to admit.
Amalia always looked forward to her two hours with Mr. Holland, which occurred thrice a week. They were almost done with the Cotillion, and would then learn how to waltz. It was a dance coming from Vienna, and was still not entirely adopted by the English people. Although its growing popularity meant she had to learn it.
She had heard from Ellie, one of the maids who participated in the lessons, that it was considered a little too audacious and scandalous for England’s most respectable aristocrats. It only added to the mystery, and Amalia couldn’t wait to discover what dance was too bold for Aiden’s peers, yet still somehow acceptable.
Making her way toward the ballroom, Amalia was walking as fast as was acceptable, despite her excitement. She hoped she wouldn’t cross Miss Belrose, who surely wouldn’t miss to remind her how a duchess should never seem to be in a hurry. It was an absurd idea, one of many the old woman was trying to enforce on her. With two young children, there was no way Amalia wouldn’t need to rush to somewhere now and then. Clearly, the old, rigid woman was too blinded by etiquette to see sense.
When Amalia reached the vast room, she was surprised to see it empty, with only Mr. Holland standing in the middle of it, next to the pianoforte. Usually, the servants were already here, ready to start the lesson. Most times, a few others were also here, ready to enjoy the entertainment.
“Your Grace,” he greeted her, bowing slightly. “There has been a slight change of plan. I’m afraid we are moving onto waltzing earlier than I had anticipated.”
The news was actually very pleasing, as Amelia’s curiosity would be satisfied earlier than she had thought. She hid her contentment the best she could and walked toward the man, impatient to start.
“It is all fine. I was getting tired of the Cotillion. Where is everyone?”
“I have dismissed them for today. Your Grace will learn the Waltz with a more experienced dancer.”
At first, Amalia thought he meant himself. He often danced with her to show Marcus how to do it, or when she was having a hard time with a movement or the pace. Since the Waltz was a couple’s dance, there was no need for others to learn it, and he could endorse the role of her partner.
However, she knew she was assuming wrong when she heard someone come from behind her, the steps heavy and determined on the hardwood floors. She spun around and her throat dried up at the sight of her husband.
Aiden was walking toward them, seemingly irritated and jaded. He had discarded his jacket, only wearing a waistcoat, and Amalia’s eyes lingered on the sleeves he’d rolled up on his forearms and the three buttons he’d undone at his collar. Today was particularly hot, which explained his attire. Although it was unfair that, even rumpled and disheveled as he was, he still seemed remarkably imperious and dignified.
Her mouth opened to protest, but the sudden anxiety was rendering her mute. Ever since he’d gifted her that horse over a week ago, she’d avoided him like the plague. She was greatly ashamed of the way she’d reacted, seeing afterward how generous Aiden had been with her. He was trying to make things better, really trying, and she’d ruined his efforts because of her absurd pride.
In all truth, she had absolutely no experience in horse riding and was terrified by the idea of trying. Admitting to another thing she couldn’t do and would need to learn had seemed too much for her mental state. She was tired of feeling incompetent all the time, and back then, she had preferred to sound ungrateful rather than ignorant.
Now, it was that same pride holding her back from apologizing and explaining everything. So instead, she had avoided him, delaying the moment she would have to admit the truth and make amends. If he was to join her and help her learn to waltz, though, she might have to do it all much earlier than she’d thought.
She turned back to Mr. Holland, hoping he would clear this out and explain Aiden wasn’t here to dance with her, but the man’s attention was entirely focused on the newcomer.
“Your Grace, thank you for joining us,” he saluted him, his voice fawning and deferential.
Aiden had reached them and stood next to Amalia, broodingly silent. He seemed as tense as she was, and when she risked a quick glance at him, she met his imperious gaze, staring at her sourly. She shied away from his blue eyes, staring at the wooden floor instead.
Mr. Holland spoke for a moment, introducing them to Waltz, explaining everything they might need to know, but Amalia wasn’t listening. Her entire focus was on her husband next to her, even though he hadn’t said a single word since joining them. She would have to dance with him. And for a dance that had the terrible reputation for being too intimate. How on Earth would they make it work if they couldn’t even look at each other?
Since she wasn’t paying attention, she didn’t hear Mr. Holland ask them to take their positions. So, when Aiden’s hand suddenly appeared in front of her, it startled her. She shyly looked up at him, only to see he was staring forward, his focus elsewhere.
Reluctantly, she brought her hand to his, regretting having forgone the use of gloves. When she slipped her slim fingers over his palm, a shiver ran up her arm, as always when they touched. As if compelled to, she gazed at him again. This time, his eyes were on her, and he peered down at her coldly. Without breaking their eye contact, Aiden moved in front of her and settled his other hand high on her ribs, holding their joined ones up.
“Milady, you need to rest your arm over his Grace’s, and settle your hand on his shoulder,” Mr. Holland instructed. Amalia complied, ignoring the way her skin tingled from their closeness. Finally looking away from Aiden’s blue irises, she waited for the tutor’s next instruction. “His Grace knows the dance, and we have already worked on the steps. All you need to do is let your husband lead.”
With that, he sat at the piano, ready to play. The first notes rose in the silent room, and Amalia waited for Aiden to start, willing to let him lead for once. Nothing happened, but the music continued.
“Look at me,” Aiden ordered, his voice low and domineering. She didn’t want to obey. Her heart was beating too fast, and her stomach was heavy with knots.
Being here, in his arms, felt too right and too wrong all at once. Everything was so much simpler with Marcus. She wasn’t feeling hot, confused, or clumsy when she was with Marcus. Because she couldn’t think properly with Aiden so close, she would ridicule herself. Her worries worsened when she looked around and noticed a few domestics by the door, curious to witness this scene. Oh Lord, Appleton was with them. There was no way she’d let him witness her distress.
“Amalia, look at me,” Aiden repeated, his voice softer. This time, she obeyed, and the gentleness she could guess in his eyes confused her. “Are you ready?”
No, she wasn’t. She probably never would be ready for him, for this, for all of it. Still, she nodded, knowing the sooner this was over, the sooner she would be away from him, from the conflicting feelings he ignited in her, from the warmth of his hand in hers, from the closeness of his large body against hers.
Right on pace with the music, Aiden suddenly guided her into their first steps. His hold on her was gentle but firm, and she did her best to follow him. Her feet were clumsily trying to find the proper rhythm, but struggling to keep up. She tripped on his shoe, but he effortlessly held her in place, making her embarrassing error barely perceptible.
“Relax, love. Just listen to the music and move with me.”
How was she supposed to relax? Especially when he was calling her ‘love’. She tried to comply, listening to the piano, concentrating on their movements… After a few seconds, she felt more comfortable, and she was able to follow Aiden without tripping any longer. They glided and twirled around the room, and Amalia was so proud of herself she could almost have forgotten him. But with each spin, he seemed to pull her closer, to hold her tighter, to embrace her more intimately.
This dance was far from being scandalous compared to the ones she was used to with her heritage, but she could understand why it was frowned upon in his world. It was a lovers’ dance. The closeness, the arms, the stares… It wasn’t appropriate for the rigid standards of British high-society.
It was making her feel things she’d rather not be feeling. Her skin was hot, her cheeks probably flushed, and it had nothing to do with the fast rhythm of the dance, or the intense whirling and turns. When she looked up, she witnessed the same sort of distress in Aiden’s eyes. He was feeling all of this too, his eyes glimmering with something dangerous, something demanding.
The song ended, Mr. Holland dragging the last note for a few seconds, and relief flooded Amalia. As if they had burned themselves, they let go of each other and took a step back, needing the distance. Maybe she had indeed burned herself, given how warm she felt where he’d been touching her. The domestics that had gathered by the door applauded, and Amalia looked at a painting hanging on a wall to her right, embarrassed by the situation.
“It was an amazing start, Milord and Milady,” the tutor declared, coming towards them. “For the next dance, you will—”
“We’re done,” Aiden cut him dryly.
“But we have barely—”
Aiden didn’t hide his irritation at being countered and sent a menacing glare to the poor man. “I said we were done.”
“Of… Of course, your Grace.” Mr. Holland bowed, disconcerted, and Aiden left the room without another glance for Amalia.
Ashamed and distressed, she stood in the middle of the vast room, wondering if things would ever go back to normal. Both were hurting in their pride, and she knew they needed to grow past their scorned dignity if they were to make something work.
How could she want this so much, but at the same time fear all of it?
Aiden slammed the door of his office, cursing himself for the tenth time since he’d left the ballroom.
Why in the Devil’s name would he do this? How could he have thought it would be a good idea?
When the dance tutor had given him his report on Amalia’s progress, asking if Aiden wanted her to learn how to waltz, he’d debated it for a moment. Waltzing was frowned upon, but it was growing more and more, especially in the demimonde. His wife learning the dance only made sense. He was familiar with it himself, and it was a knowledge that might come in handy at some point.
The actual issue had been letting her learn it with someone else.
Aiden sometimes stopped to see how she was doing, lurking from behind the door, admiring her blooming from afar. More than once he’d caught her giggling and laughing with the footman that served her as a dance partner. He wasn’t the jealous type, but watching his wife being this comfortable with another man was enough to irritate even the most indifferent of men.
The idea that she’d learn how to waltz with a servant was much more than he was willing to tolerate. That was why he’d told Holland he would help with these particular lessons, serving as Amalia’s dance partner from now on. But this had been before the horse debacle, when he still had hopes of their marriage going somewhere.
Adamant to stay away from the complications she always posed, he had considered getting back on his word and let her dance with whoever she wanted. That was what he’d settled on, at least. But when the tutor had come to tell him the lesson was beginning shortly, he’d pushed his resolutions to the side and had decided to go.
He had barely seen her in the past week, taking most of his breakfasts in his office, skipping meals and going out of his way to avoid crossing her path. Backed into a corner by a tiny woman, he was feeling like a coward, a weak man unable to assert his dominance over her and take what was rightfully his. A small part of him kept hoping things could work out. He couldn’t help but think maybe they could be as happy as they had once been.
If he was ever to force her, he knew he would lose her forever. For it to work, she needed to come to him. But he couldn’t figure out how to break her barrier.
When he’d seen her in the ballroom, wearing a green dress that hugged her shapes perfectly, he’d realized his mistake instantly. It had been weeks since the last time he’d been with a woman, and it was becoming more and more obvious.
Amalia was temptation incarnate, but she was also unreachable. Regardless of how much he wanted the woman, he couldn’t have her. And it was killing him slowly.
If he’d harbored any doubts of how much she despised him, her reluctance to dance with him had been a painful reminder of it. She avoided his gaze, shrugged when he touched her, and hadn’t said a single word to him.
All of this, when he was so immensely troubled to have her in his arms, his entire body longing for hers. It had been much more than his pride could tolerate. He’d cut the lesson short, refusing to let her silently insult him like this any longer.
Now, he was wondering why he was trying so hard to conquer her. There were thousands of women out there who would willingly welcome him in their arms, beds, and hearts. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need her .
What he needed was to get over his stubborn wife.
A quick History of the Waltz. Similar types of dances have existed since the 16th century. Vienna made it more famous in the mid to late 18th century. It made its way into England in 1791, but was too caliente for the prude British people. It is considered officially introduced in 1812 at Almack’s, but still not really accepted. Germany had already adopted it and was very okay with it. It had a lot of ink running, because of how scandalous it was to be so intimately close and all. It eventually became all the rage and was basically all people danced to a couple of decades later.
Because of how hush hush it was, it’s very hard to find songs that were actually used early on for Waltzing, so I gave up and give you the most famous Waltz song ever, for culture and all: The Blue Danube Waltz, Op. 314, by Johann Strauss II.
【38】Story Time
Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1 No. 24 in A Minor, by Niccolò Paganini.
One of Aiden’s favorite traditions with his new life was the story time he got to spend with his daughters. He remembered how much Amalia loved telling stories during their summer together. It was something she was amazing at, so it was only normal she would have told the girls countless tales.
Now, the twins insisted on getting their daily story before bed. When he’d heard about it, Aiden had demanded to be a part of it. So every other evening, he was in charge of telling them the story that would put them to sleep. This moment of quietness with them was among his favorites of the day, and a splendid way to conclude it.
Who would have thought that the jaded and debauched duke he used to be would show such paternal instinct?
It had been two months since they had been back at the manor, and he still wasn’t tired of them. He had never understood why parents always thought of their offsprings as wonders, when the little brats were usually devils in disguise. Now that he had daughters, it was all too clear. To him, Ailia and Maeve were among the most angelic and perfect creatures that ever existed – despite the fact that they tended to disobey or challenge commands. But their laughs, their smiles, and their happiness surpassed everything else.
When one of them cried, he couldn’t help but try to comfort her, his heart aching from their sadness. When they were throwing a tantrum – which barely ever happened – he had the terrible habit of yielding to their wishes too easily. Amalia wasn’t so weak when it came to correcting the girls. She was used to it and didn’t always let them have their ways.
In all truth, it was probably because of his desire for them to like him. He wanted the twins to see him as a loving figure, a caring father, and he was scared to lose their affection. When it mattered, though, Aiden knew how to hold his ground, ignoring their displeasure and tears.
He had spent the day arranging their return to London. They were supposed to only go back to the capital in November, but he couldn’t handle this isolation anymore. Being stuck here with next to no distraction, and a wife who couldn’t even look at him, was turning out to be too demanding for him to handle. He was willing to tolerate a lot, but this was too much.
Once back in London, he would have all the distractions he needed to get over his insubordinate wife. He would spend time at the gentlemen’s clubs he was a member of, where he could become one of those unhappily married men who complained all day long about their impossible spouses. He would also return to the inviting arms of one of his mistresses, and it would help shake Amalia out of his mind. Maybe Helen would be willing to rekindle their arrangement if she hadn’t found a new man to satisfy her peculiar needs.
In the meantime, Amalia was haunting him. She was on his mind all day and had invaded his dreams. Even when he was sleeping, he couldn’t get any rest from the godforsaken woman. All of his thoughts brought him back to her constantly.
Her beauty was entrancing, her voice bemusing, the slight accent that lingered in it deliciously exotic, and her silhouette rapturous. He could see her change a little more with every passing day, even from the safe distance he kept between them. He had worried the bohemian he’d fallen in love with six years ago would disappear, but he was well aware of her bullheadedness. There was no way Amalia Romero would ever completely change and lose who she was at her core.
Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of her, when she was alone or with the girls, and he would see her as she really was, impulsive and full of life, far from the mannered and restrained woman she was supposed to become. He could only hope this part of her would subsist, despite what her new life demanded her to become.
This was exactly why he was doomed. He wanted Amalia for her strong mind and fiery temper, but he needed her to be the wife society expected of her. He couldn’t force it on her, for fear of breaking her spirit and losing the intrepid woman he once loved. It was the reason he was giving up. If he refused to tame her, he might as well set her free. Or as free as he could, at least.
Once in London, he would explain everything to her, and they would negotiate a new agreement between them. They would entertain the illusion of a working marriage to the world but live free of its constraints in private. He was certain she would accept it all, surely enjoying the prospect of the freedom it would offer. While she would rejoice in her independence, he’d learn how to forget her, drowning himself in distractions.
For the first time in years, he was leaving the countryside with reluctance. The weather had been abnormally warm, and the idea of moving back to London and its suffocating reality wasn’t pleasing him in the least. He would rather stay up here, but they needed to go, for the sake of his sanity.
As he climbed the stairs in haste, a book in hand, he was positively excited to continue reading Gulliver’s Travels to the twins. He’d picked that one, remembering how he’d enjoyed it as a much younger man. Finding something suitable for them hadn’t been easy, but this seemed to work. Rediscovering the story also brought him some satisfaction.
After a quick knock on their door, he opened it. The nanny was tucking Maeve in while Ailia was already set for the night under the covers of her bed. After a bow, the woman left, relieved of her duties for the day.
“So, are we ready to hear what happens next to Lemuel Gulliver?” he asked them with enthusiasm. After a brief hesitation and a look at each other, the girls nodded. Sensing there was more to this, Aiden squinted his eyes, his gaze going from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We like this story a lot,” Ailia was the first to answer.
Another thing he loved about his daughters was that they were terrible liars, which made so many things easier. Swallowing back a grin, Aiden grabbed a chair and settled it between their beds, as he did every time. “So, you two won’t mind if we start over? I forgot what happened in the beginning.”
Ailia managed to maintain her composure, but Maeve let her head fall back with a dramatic sigh. So they didn’t actually like the book he’d been reading to them for the past three weeks. That was great to hear. He couldn’t really blame them for it, since they were too young to get all the subtleties and satirical aspects of the story. In all truth, he only wished they’d told him sooner.
“Alright, you don’t like it. I get it. Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked with patience.
“Mommy told us to be nice to you, so we pretended to like it,” Ailia sheepishly explained.
This time, a chuckle came out of him. Amalia had respected her part of the bargain, and was doing everything she could for the girls to like him. Her agreeing to let him handle their bedtime story half the time was another thing she’d done in that sense.
“You can tell me that sort of thing, sweetheart. Being honest doesn’t mean you’re not being nice.”
“Ugh, then I hate this story,” Maeve quickly declared. “It’s so boring, and slow.”
“And you don’t do the voices,” Ailia chimed in.
“I’m supposed to do voices?”
“Mommy does.”
Perplexed, Aiden wondered if he’d really been that bad at storytelling for the past seven weeks. In his defense, they were used to their mom doing it, and she was great at it. He was still new to it all, so it would make sense he’d need to learn. Just as he was about to ask for some advice, Ailia came up with something even better.
“Do you want us to tell you a story, so you see how you should do it?”
There was no way he could ever refuse such a proposition. Something told him he’d enjoy this a lot, as he was always fascinated by them, always eager to hear their thoughts. As soon as he agreed, the girls sat up, resting their backs against the headboards of their beds.
“Which one do we do?” Maeve asked her sister. After a moment of debating, they settled on one, seemingly happy with their choice.
“Once upon a time—”
“This part is important, Aiden. A story should always start with ‘once upon a time’,” Maeve interrupted. He nodded with amusement, and Ailia resumed.
“Once upon a time, there was a pirate girl who could spit fire. She was very good at it, and many people loved it.”
“Also, she had a pet dragon named Larry.”
“No, she didn’t,” Ailia protested.
“I’m deciding she does now.”
Ailia rolled her eyes before returning her attention to him. “One day, she was spitting fire for a crowd, to make some money. And that day, a prince saw her do it. He loved it so much, he decided she had to teach him how to spit fire, so he could become as good as she was!”
Aiden’s entertained mood slowly shifted into curiosity. With his brows slightly furrowed, he sat up in his chair. Something about this story was awfully familiar, wasn’t it?
“From that day forward, the fire spitter went to the prince’s castle every single day. And for—”
“Larry was there too,” Maeve felt compelled to specify. “And he behaved and didn’t burn the castle to the ground, even though it’s a dragon’s job.” Ailia didn’t hide her irritation before resuming her story.
“For entire afternoons, she tried to teach the prince how to spit fire like her. They trained really hard and spent a lot of time together. The pirate girl loved coming to the castle, because there were so many biscuits all the time.”
“And lots of carrot cakes! Also, Larry got to eat candies as well.”
There was no room left for doubt at this point. This was their story. This was what had happened six years ago. Aiden was certain of it. Amalia must have told them this tale, changing it into something slightly different from the truth. But this was the story of their encounter, the story of how the girls came to be.
For countless minutes, they both told him whatever they could remember, mentioning how the pirate girl had met the King and the Queen, how the Prince and she had a fishing competition, how the prince visited the girl’s boat, which didn’t go well because the other pirates didn’t like him… Maeve kept adding whimsical elements to the story, which sometimes made it hard to follow, and the timeline was skewed in many ways. But everything they said matched that summer years ago.
“But the King didn’t appreciate having pirates on his land,” Ailia continued, her voice suddenly grave. “So one day, he decided to banish them all!”
“Wait, you forgot something!”
“What?”
“They fell in love. The prince and the fire spitter fell in love,” Maeve reminded her.
“Oh, right. They fell in love after all the afternoons together. And then the King gave orders to exile all the pirates. But the girl didn’t want to leave, because she was in love with the prince. And because he loved her too, they decided to marry and live happily ever after! They planned everything, and it would all be perfect.”
“But the girl’s father, the pirate king, wouldn’t let them,” Maeve chimed in.
“Vee, I’m the one telling the story!”
As they argued about who got to tell him the story, Aiden’s mind was swallowed by the questions that rose from their revelation. What was it about Amalia’s father getting involved? This was a part of the story was one he didn’t know, one he hadn’t imagined existed.
His version of the facts was that Amalia had planned with her family to plunder the manor. Then she’d come to meet him, so she’d be in a position where she could open the window in the music parlor. In the girls’ tale, she’d meant to marry him. According to this, she’d meant to elope, she’d meant it all. But her father had prevented it?
“What did Gio— the pirate king do?” Aiden asked, eager to hear the rest.
Ailia took the lead and resumed the story. Or at least she tried before frowning with a dissatisfied pout. “I don’t remember. Maeve, do you remember what happens?”
Her sister’s brows knitted as well, unable to recall what came next. “I remember she leaves the prince. But she is never alone again, because he gave her two angels to watch over her.”
“Yes, I remember that, too. But mommy hasn’t told us the story in too long, I don’t remember the rest.”
Lying on their sides, facing each other from their respective beds, they tried to remember, but couldn’t find it. Aiden was tempted to press them until the memory came back, but he could see how tired they were, slowly slipping into slumber. He had to restrain himself from shaking them out of their fatigue.
After all this, he needed to know what the pirate king had done. This new information changed everything. Before he allowed it to mess his head too much, Aiden reminded himself that it proved nothing. It was possibly another element Amalia had invented to embroider the story, so he needed to know how true it was.
“Maybe you could ask mommy to tell you the story?” Maeve suggested, her small voice barely audible.
“Yes, she knows it the best,” Ailia agreed, just as sleepily.
Yes, he should ask Amalia about the key elements he was missing. Maybe he should have asked her to tell him the story of that night from the beginning, actually.
His quick talk with Amalia on the road to London had only left him with the impression that he knew everything he needed to know. It had only confirmed his suspicions, and the guilt plastered on her face then had only been further proof.
But now, this…
Long after the girls had fallen asleep, Aiden was still sitting there, prone to a plethora of conflicting thoughts and questions. And he wasn’t sure where he could get the answers, if not from Amalia herself. But what if it all was embellishments either the girls or her had added to their story?
Before he spoke with her, he needed to make sure there was some truth to what the girls were saying. Aside from her, the only person who could bring him some valuable insight was Appleton.
Tomorrow, after his meeting in the morning with a few farmers from the estate, Aiden would talk to the butler. Hopefully, the man would be able to clear a few things, and give some sense to what the girls had said.
As much as he tried not to let any of this change anything, his mind kept processing what it meant. If there was any truth to it, it meant he’d been wrong to some extent.
And if he’d been wrong, if she’d never meant to leave him or help her people rob his family, it meant he’d been terribly unfair to her. If she were a victim as much as he was in this affair, she hadn’t warranted his wrath.
It was too late to erase all the awful things he’d told her ever since finding her again.
Could she ever forgive him for his prejudices?
The piece for this one starts quite playful and light, and it goes through many stages, graver, more serious, and almost panicky, at times, if that makes sense. So, it rather fits that chapter! And I don’t think I’ve shared that composer before, so that’s awesome: Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1 No. 24 in A Minor, by Niccolò Paganini.
【39】Old Lies
Orfeo ed Euridice, Wq. 30 - Arranged Sgambati Act 2 - Melodie dell’Orfeo, by Christoph Willibald Gluck
From the opened window of his study, Aiden waited for the girls to pass by again.
Turning around, he glared at the paperwork on his desk, reluctant to get back to it. His meetings in the morning had been an arduous enterprise, rendered laborious by his distracted mind and lack of sleep. Especially since this sunny day of late July was particularly hot.
Ever since the twin’s story, he hadn’t been able to rest his overthinking mind. The answers he sought were still out of his reach, but he would get them soon. When he’d come back about an hour ago, a footman had informed him that Appleton was out on an errand. Aiden had given orders, instructing that the butler must be sent to him as soon as he returned.
Maybe after a talk with him, Aiden would receive some valuable answers. Then, he’d determine if it was worth asking for more details to Amalia.
Aiden heard talking and focused again on the view out of his window. The twins were being taught to ride their ponies by the stable staff. Like the rest of the household, they were under their charms. Two stable boys were guiding the ponies by their bridle while the girls sat there with their small hands clutching their horses’ manes. Mrs. Pots was anxiously following, making sure they were fine and didn’t risk any danger.
From where he stood, he could hear some bribes of conversations, and he understood the twins were arguing to know which one had the fastest horse. Maeve discreetly tried to spur her pony, still named Apple Pie, but the animal barely felt a thing and didn’t take notice. The little girl pouted, appearing helpless.
As they passed near his window, the twins turned to Aiden and waved at him with enormous smiles on their faces, half-hidden by their hats.
“Don’t let go of the mane girls!” the nanny insisted. “You will fall!”
It was now the third time they passed by his window, and the third time Aiden was standing here to watch them. The day was splendid, and he hated being stuck in his office like this, waiting for Appleton to come back. Since there was no saying how much longer it would take, he decided he might still enjoy the sun and the warm temperatures.
“Mrs. Pots!” he shouted out the window. The little group was still close enough to hear him, and the nanny turned around, startled. “When the girls are done with their riding lesson, have them change into lighter dresses and bring them to me.” She acknowledged his command with a nod and caught up with the cavaliers in the making.
Determined to settle a few matters before the girls were brought to him, Aiden sat back at his desk. He was just done with a request from one of his tenants when he heard a soft knock.
“Come in,” he ordered.
The door opened, and to his surprise, Appleton entered before closing behind him. A rush of anguish ran through his veins, knowing he was so close to getting answers to the questions running in his mind.
“You asked for me, your Grace?”
Without a word, Aiden stood from his chair and walked around his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back onto the solid oak desk to partially sit on it, looking at the butler with intensity. “I need you to tell me again what happened back then, when the manor was robbed.”
Mild shock appeared on the butler’s face, but he quickly overcame it and looked as neutral as he usually did. “Of course, milord. May I ask why?”
“I’ve come to realize the events of that night might not have unfolded the way I was led to believe.”
This time, Appleton wasn’t so good at hiding his surprise. Aiden had known the man his whole life, and he could tell something was wrong. He knew more than what he pretended.
“Speak, Appleton.”
“You are right, your Grace, things didn’t happen the way you were told. But I’m afraid once I have confessed everything, you will want to relieve me from my responsibilities and throw me out of this house.”
A surge of something flooded Aiden’s mind. He couldn’t tell if it was excitement, anger, frustration, hope… but it overwhelmed him, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs. So, there might be a part of truth in what the girls had told him. Amalia might not have been the cunning and manipulative wench he’d thought all this time.
“All I ask if you were to discharge me, your Grace,” the butler continued, “is a good recommendation letter. I have been employed with your family for over forty years, and—”
“You will have it,” Aiden interrupted, his patience running thin. “Now speak, Appleton.”
The butler remained quiet for a moment, searching for the proper words. Aiden’s edginess grew with each second that passed, but he did his best to say nothing and wait for the man to finally talk.
“You see, your Grace, that fateful night we were robbed, it was assumed Miss Romero was the one to help the rest of the bohemians in.” He took a break, apparently finding it hard to continue his confession. “As it turns out, milord, we were wrong.”
Aiden’s annoyance suddenly turned into incomprehension. So, this part had been a lie all along? The assumption made sense, since someone opened the yellow parlor from the inside, and Amalia had been seen fleeing the scene with the men. But if this part was a lie, why would she have emptied the safe she knew about and taken her precious violin?
“Explain yourself!” Aiden demanded, irritated. Appleton flinched, his shame and worry obvious.
“About a week after the events, one of the kitchen girls came to me, eaten by remorse. She had fallen for one of the bohemians she had met in the village. They would often see each other during her errands.” Appleton stopped, took a deep breath, and went on. “Also, when he asked her if he could visit her one night, the foolish girl accepted and got up in the middle of the night to unlock a window for her suitor to come in. Little did she know, there would be a raiding party coming along.”
Aiden was confused. How was that possible? How had he never been informed of this before? The truth had been known barely a week after the robbery, and he was only hearing about it now? Six years later?
“Why is it the first time I hear of this?” He was furious, his voice low and menacing, understanding he’d believed a lie for years.
“After the girl confessed to me, I went to the duke, your late father. He decided it would be better for everyone if we quietly released the kitchen maid from her functions without a word to the authorities. I was specifically instructed to never inform you of what had really happened that night. He believed you were better off resenting Miss Romero, as he was afraid you would be capable of leaving to find her. You still went, and he knew the truth would mean you’d never give up on finding her. Then, when your father died, God rest his soul, it seemed to not matter any longer. So I said nothing, for I thought your Grace would never see the woman again.”
Aiden was trying to understand what all of this meant. Had Amalia not betrayed him in the end? Did she not plan all of this as he had thought all this time? He’d resented the woman for something she wasn’t responsible for.
This changed everything.
He looked at the butler, still standing before him, anxiously waiting for his sentence to be pronounced. Appleton was loyal and obedient, so it didn’t surprise Aiden he’d respected his father’s wishes, even so long after the man’s death. Nevertheless, the man’s revelation was enraging. Had the girls never opened his eyes, would Appleton have come to confess at some point? Had Aiden not insisted, would he have kept this essential piece of information to his grave?
Aiden decided to wait for his anger to calm down before taking a rushed decision. “You can leave now. Make sure I don’t see you in the upcoming days, as I try to figure out what to make of you.”
“Thank you, your Grace.” Trying to remain as dignified as ever, the butler bowed and exited the room, chin up and shoulders straight.
Aiden didn’t move for a long time, his gaze unfocused, trying to fathom what had just happened. Amalia wasn’t the one who opened the window. Maybe she hadn’t even been aware of what her people were planning. It was possible she’d really been there for him, and she had planned to marry him. Maybe it hadn’t just been a deception, as he had thought. Just like him, she might have been a victim of what had happened.
His mind was raging with questions, galloping with all the possibilities of what might have been. He had always been so certain of the truth, he’d never asked for her side of the story. He’d never taken the time to hear what she had to say about that night, to understand what had happened exactly.
He was a bloody idiot.
Abruptly, he pushed himself away from the desk, wanting to repair his unforgivable offense. The urge to talk to her and hear the truth was imperious, and it demanded to be satisfied now. As he made his way through the hallways, he kept blaming himself for being so impossibly stupid. How could someone be so ridiculously oblivious?
He reached the small parlor Amalia had her lessons in, and stopped by the half-opened door, listening to what was being said inside. “But this doesn’t make any sense!” Amalia protested with vehemence.
“It doesn’t need to make sense, you only need to follow the rules.”
“I can’t obey the rules if I don’t understand the rules.”
“It is simple, your Grace. The domestics are so inferior you shouldn’t give them any mind.”
“Like they are furniture?!” His wife sounded so scandalized by this idea, and Aiden felt a smile form on his lips. She had a generous soul and refused to bend to his world’s rules.
She hated most of this, most of what was asked of her, but she was still trying. He’d treated her like a thief, like baseless scum, but she was still here, despite her strong-mindedness. She’d endured the horrible way he’d treated all along, and was still here. He knew she was here for the twins, but it was a miracle she hadn’t tried to flee by now.
Amalia was still arguing with her tutor, her passionate spirit not giving up on her beliefs. Alas, Miss Belrose was about as fierce as she was, and she wouldn’t give in either.
He was about to rescue his wife from the claws of her relentless opponent when a footman interrupted. “Your Grace, Mrs. Pots sent me to tell you the young ladies are ready. They are waiting for you in the blue parlor.”
Remembering what he had planned with his daughters, Aiden hesitated. The tone was getting more intense in there, and he decided maybe it would be better to have a talk with Amalia later, when she would have cooled off from the argument. She ought to be mad at him for only asking her version of the story now. And she’d be very right about it. But if waiting a little could make things smoother, then he was willing to set aside the questions burning on his tongue for a few hours. They would discuss tonight after dinner.
With a sigh, Aiden dismissed the footman and headed toward the blue parlor, eager to surprise the girls with what he had planned for them.
The piece for this chapter is particularly beautiful, so maybe give it a try, even if you’re not doing it while reading: Orfeo ed Euridice, Wq. 30 - Arranged Sgambati Act 2 - Melodie dell’Orfeo, by Christoph Willibald Gluck.
【40】Summer Swim
Violin Romance No. 2 in F Major Op. 50, by Ludwig van Beethoven
Amalia was bored out of her mind. Miss Belrose was sermonizing her on her manners, because she kept thanking and addressing the servants in a friendly manner. Apparently, it was imperative to be condescending and to pretend they were as deserving as a potted plant or an armchair. It wasn’t the first time she was being reprimanded about that, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She couldn’t help but feel it was wrong to treat people with so little esteem.
She could live with the idea of being a bad duchess, but she needed to feel like a decent human being.
At first, she’d fought the woman on it, but had abandoned it about five minutes ago, knowing she wouldn’t win this battle. Well, she’d still disobey the absurd rule, but she was done arguing about it for now.
Needing a distraction from Miss Belrose’s reprimands, she looked out the window. Her favorite pastime during these duchess lessons was to look for shapes in the clouds. To her surprise, she saw Aiden and the girls, armed with fishing gear, going down to the lake.
The sight made her whimper, desperately wanting to join them. Today was incredibly sunny and warm. She’d been stuck inside for hours, eager to go enjoy the sun. The trio heading toward the lake was too much for her to resist.
She hesitated, observing Aiden’s imposing silhouette. After their failed attempt at dancing a few days ago, she had decided to make more efforts towards him. He had been nothing but generous to her and the girls, and she had to stop treating him like an unwelcome stranger.
They were married, whether she liked it or not, and she couldn’t keep pushing him away as she had been doing. He would grow tired of it and possibly get rid of her to find a more suitable wife. There was no way she would finish her days in a coven or a madhouse. From now on, she would be pleasant, and discard the way she felt around him. This queasy uneasiness couldn’t keep ruining it all.
Maybe an afternoon outside with him and their daughters would be a great way to start her new resolutions. Her mind made up, she turned to her tutor. “We are done for the day.” Not waiting for the answer, she stood up, ready to leave the room.
“I wasn’t finished, your Grace.”
“And I wasn’t asking, I was stating.”
As she made her way toward the door, Amalia had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling, happy to be giving the woman some of her own medicine. She elegantly walked out of the room, and as soon as she was out of her tutor’s sight, she ran to the nearest door to get out of the manor, grabbed a hat on the rack by it, and rushed out on the small terrasse.
This was so much better than having to endure Miss Belrose for a few more hours. With a delighted smile stretching her lips, she ran toward the trio. She hadn’t taken the time to tie the ribbons of her hat, so she had a hand over it to prevent it from flying away.
“Wait!” she yelled, racing down the hill.
Her family stopped and turned to her. Her daughters’ faces lightened up, and a huge grin split her face in half as she quickly joined them.
“Your Grace,” she said to Aiden, her voice out of breath, “I hope you didn’t think I would let you teach them how to fish alone. I’m afraid they would learn the wrong way.”
Aiden had a strange, confused expression as he was observing her intently. Did she have something on her face? Before she could send a hand to her cheeks and check, he smiled, letting out a discreet chuckle. “If I remember correctly, my way turned out to be the most efficient one.”
“I still believe it was a fit of chance.” She sweetened the remark with a grin and took Ailia’s hand before walking toward the lake.
They went to the dock on the tree-filled side of the lake, and Aiden settled the fishing rods down along with the box. Amalia took one of the small rods and prepared it. Amused to see how invested they were in learning about this new activity, she explained to the girls how it worked. She showed them the reed mechanism and insisted on being careful with the hook, letting her or Aiden handle it.
On his part, he pulled out a small tin box and opened it in front of the girls. It was full of worms, and Ailia shrugged away from it with disgust while Maeve tried to touch one. They prepared everything, threw the lines in the water, and handed the rods to the girls.
“You put your finger there, angel,” Amalia explained to Maeve, “and if you feel the string move, you hold on to the handle tightly.”
Aiden took care of Ailia, and when she was ready, he removed his shoes, socks and pulled the bottom of his pants up before sitting near the girl, his feet in the water. He had set aside his jacket, opened his waistcoat, and rolled up his sleeves. He looked properly neglected, and Amalia loved this version of him, carefree and relaxed.
She looked down and felt tempted to do the same. It seemed unfair that he could do such a thing, but not her. With a quick glance in the direction of the manor, she made sure she couldn’t be seen, and knocked her shoes off.
In need of some privacy, she turned around before lifting her skirts to reach her garters. She untied them and rolled her stockings down, one leg after the other. When she turned back, Aiden was looking at her with something intense in his eyes. Her face warmed up, and she feared her cheeks were turning pink. Discreetly, she slipped the stocking in a pocket and sat down next to Maeve, making sure not to wet her skirts.
The chilly water felt great on her sore feet, and she sighed with contentment, closing her eyes to fully enjoy the amazing feeling. She still wasn’t used to wearing those tight, uncomfortable heels, and she doubted she would ever be.
Her hands settled behind her on the wooden surface of the dock, and she leaned back, enjoying the sun for the first time in a while. The moment was perfect. She could hear the birds chirping, the wind in the trees, the watery sound of the small waves around them… The girls kept talking about the fishes they would catch, and Aiden was giving them instructions on how to become a great fisherman.
“According to your mother, I’m the greatest fisherman who ever lived,” he told the girls, a smile in his voice. Amalia grinned, remembering that afternoon they had spent together. Even without looking at him, she could feel his eyes on her, and it warmed her almost as much as the sun.
They stayed like this for a long time, and she eventually leaned down on the sun-warmed wood. The girls kept talking about everything and anything, despite Aiden’s warning. Indeed, he had told them fishes were scared of chatty little girls, in an attempt to get a moment of silence. It had worked for about twenty seconds, and then they had resumed their conversation, forgetting about the fishes.
It didn’t really matter, because they weren’t really here for the fishes. They were here to spend time together.
When Maeve called her, Amalia opened her eyes and straightened up. “Mommy, what was the largest fish you ever caught?”
Amalia thought about it for a moment, trying to recall. “I think it was in France, long before you two were born. It was a Wels catfish in the Seine near Paris. It was the largest fish I had ever seen. Larger than you, even!” The girls looked at her, shocked and excited. “It was so large, uncle Sebastian and uncle Paul had to help me take it out.”
The twins drank her words as she recounted the tale of her epic battle with the giant fish. Aiden’s amusement was palpable. But by the time she finished, telling them how the fish had fed the entire camp that night, his gaze didn’t seem amused anymore. He was covering her with dark eyes that held a hunger that made something twist low in her stomach.
“So, your fish was bigger than Aiden’s,” Maeve pointed out. “Maybe that means you were wrong, and he isn’t the greatest fisherman. Maybe you are.”
“Stop trying to take my title away from me, little one,” Aiden protested. “Your mom gave it to me, on a day much like this one. And deep down, she knows that I—.”
Before he could finish whatever teasing words he had in mind, Ailia screamed, startled. Something pulled on her line, making her lose her balance. Before Aiden could react, the girl lost her footing and fell in the water.
“Ailia!” he shouted, diving into the water without missing a beat. Panicked, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, making sure she was safe.
Amalia was finding his action incredibly heroic and touching, so she didn’t have the heart to tell him it was all for nothing. Maeve, who was finding the whole situation very amusing, put her rod down and with a laugh, jumped in the water too, unknowingly making the point Amalia was reluctant to make.
Before Aiden could catch her, she resurfaced and swam away. His confused expression amused Amalia to the point she couldn’t hide her smile anymore.
The camps they had grown up in were often settled near bodies of water, and they often had to bathe in rivers or ponds. Also, for their own sake, Amalia had made sure the girls knew how to swim since before they turned four.
Giggling, Ailia wriggled away from Aiden’s arms and swam to her sister. He held on to the edge of the dock and watched the girls swim with ease, astonished. They laughed and splashed each other, looking adorably happy. They had always loved to swim, and Amalia regretted not getting them in the lake sooner. Half of the summer was gone already.
Deciding there was no reason to be the only one not having fun, she stood up and unfastened her dress. There was no way she would take the risk of going back to the manor soaked, and suffer another sermon. She removed her hat, let the loosened bodice of her dress fall on the wooden planks, untied her skirts and pulled them down in one swift move. She was only wearing her chemise and a light corset, having dismissed her undergarment because of the heat. Before Aiden noticed, she dove in the water, head first, to the side of the dock.
She swam to the girls who were still splashing each other, and Amalia pinched their legs under the water, making them squeal. Aiden quickly joined them, and after a moment of swimming around, all four moved to a spot where their feet could touch the bottom.
Amalia held her daughters against her, one over each hip, enjoying their proximity. Ever since she had become a duchess, a lot of the care she used to give them had been delegated to others, and she dearly missed them. With great love and tenderness, she repeatedly kissed them, and they kissed her back, making her heart melt with love. When she looked forward, she met Aiden’s eyes. He was watching them with a warm expression on his face.
His wet shirt was molding his strong shoulders and chest, leaving no room for imagination. Amalia’s eyes glided over the toned muscles, unable to prevent it. Her gaze slowly moved up to where two icy blue eyes were waiting for her dark ones, their scalding intensity warming her skin despite the cold water.
There was something odd about him today, wasn’t there? In his attitude toward her, she read no animosity, no anger, no danger… It was as though he’d decided, just like her, to let go of their animosity and put it all in the past.
He was ridiculously attractive, his hair darker than usual and pulled back, the droplets of water making their way down his throat, his broad chest inviting and tempting. She couldn’t see them, but she remembered the freckles scattered on his shoulders.
May God forgive her for how much she wanted to see them again…
Feeling her mind drift into dangerous territories, she looked away, focusing back on her daughters. They stayed there, enjoying the water, floating around, and swimming. The girls had fun racing between Amalia and Aiden, competing to see who was the fastest. She loved to see him interact with the girls. He always seemed to be so happy and pleased to spend time with the twins. She couldn’t have hoped for him to love them more dearly.
For both the girls and him, it felt as if they had been in each other’s life all along. Her heart grew as she was watching all three of them fooling around, the girls trying to get on his shoulders, to make him sink under the surface of the water.
When the sun disappeared behind the trees, Amalia decided it was time to come out of the lake, as it was starting to be too cold.
Disagreeing, the girls tried to swim away, but Aiden caught them and threw each of them over a shoulder, to their great amusement. He carried them out while they giggled and squealed with amusement, and put them down on the grass, on a sunny spot. Amalia, who was following closely, shook her head with a broad smile.
“Maybe we should try to dry a little before going back to the manor,” she suggested, refusing to be blamed for this moment they had just enjoyed. Her elaborate bun was almost completely gone, most of her hair now loose on her shoulders, but maybe she could still give the illusion of being a mild-mannered duchess.
Aiden walked to the dock to fetch their things, as Amalia went to the girls and removed their dresses, leaving them with their chemise and underpants. She wrung the outfits as best as she could and hung them on a branch.
When she turned around, Aiden had removed his waistcoat and taken his shirt out of his pants. The wet and sticky fabric was molding every bit of his torso, and Amalia bit her lip, feeling a warmth rising inside of her. The things this man ignited in her were uncanny. He came to her and handed her his jacket, which he had just recovered.
She looked at the garment, confused, and he gave her a quick look down on her outfit. She followed his gaze and felt mortified. Her wet undergarments were revealing way more than they were concealing. Her breasts were exposed by the low corset she was wearing, their tips hard and dark. To her great distress, the patch of dark curls at the apex of her legs was just as clear, and she had to resist the urge to scream her frustration. She rapidly took the jacket he offered and spun around. As hastily as she could, she slipped it on and buttoned it, avoiding his eyes when she turned back to him.
Trying to ignore her sudden burst of heat, Amalia made the girls lay down in the grass, where the sun would warm them up. She joined them, and so did Aiden. As usual, the twins were taking care of feeding the conversation. Ailia realized with great displeasure that she had lost her fishing rod. When Maeve teased her about it, the girl pointed out that at least, a fish had bit on her line. Little by little, they talked less, until they both fell asleep, exhausted by all the swimming around.
When he noticed, Aiden stood up and came to Amalia’s side. “Would you walk with me?” he asked, extending his hand.
She hesitated, unsure she wanted to be alone with him with what she was wearing, feeling too exposed to be comfortable. She was about to refuse when she remembered her decision to behave and be kinder to him. Reluctantly, she took his hand, so he could help her up.
They slowly strolled along the path that circled the lake, listening to the sounds that surrounded them. Originally, she’d thought he might want to talk to her about something, which was why he’d asked for this walk alone. Instead, they both remained silent, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t expecting it anymore when Aiden finally spoke. She most particularly wasn’t expecting what he asked of her.
“Amalia, I want you to tell me what happened that night.”
Okay, not gonna lie, this chapter makes me want to dive into a lake, a pool, or a river, and just enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Now, a nice, peaceful, and summerly masterpiece: Violin Romance No. 2 in F Major Op. 50, by Ludwig van Beethoven .
【41】Truth and Truce
Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra in B-Flat Major: II. Andante moderato, by Carl Stamitz.
Amalia’s feet froze, forcing Aiden to stop walking too. Confused and anxious, she stared at him with many questions in her eyes. They had carefully avoided the matter ever since they had seen each other again. The one time she’d tried to initiate a conversation about it, he’d shut her down dryly, reminding her of all the wrong she’d done to him. She was ashamed of what had happened, and she hated having to talk about it.
“Why?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want us to talk about this.”
“And it was stupid of me. I have always had a very specific idea of how it unfolded. However, considering some recent revelations, I came to understand I was wrong. I would like for you to tell me what happened.”
The pressure of having to tell him everything made her feel dizzy. That night had been one of the worst moments of her life, so having to go over it, with him , made something twist in her stomach as her legs grew weak under her. She spotted a bench nearby, so she went to it, worried about her balance. Wordlessly, he followed her there, and they sat on it. They were too close to one another, but she barely noticed. Anxiety was rendering her mute, a heavy lump caught in her throat. Aiden tried to soothe her, flattening one of his large, warm hands on her bare knee.
“Amalia, you can tell me. After all this time, I need some closure. Our arrangement won’t change regardless of what you say, I promise.”
She didn’t want to talk about it, to admit any of what she’d done… But he had the right to know. It was a part of his story, of their story, and he deserved to hear what had happened. For an instant, she closed her eyes to be rid of the hypnotic power of his blue gaze. The images of that night, the ones she so desperately tried to forget, were still as fresh as the day it had happened.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, staring at the lake before them.
“I woke up in the middle of the night, and I remember I was confused,” she recalled. Her voice was uneven, so she cleared her throat before continuing. “It took me a moment to understand where I was. But then I saw you right there, and it filled me with joy. I watched you for a moment, and then I went to see what time it was. My camp was leaving at dawn, and I had to see them before that. It was a little after three, so I decided I would leave, to go tell them I wasn’t following them this time. Then I planned on coming back and never leave you again.
“I gathered my things quietly. You deserved your rest, and I didn’t want you to lure me back into the bed. Just as I was done dressing, I heard whispers outside the door. Worried someone might catch me in your room, I went to put my ear against the door. And… and I recognized the language and the voice instantly.”
She paused, hesitant. This was so much harder than she thought. The fear she had felt back then resurfaced, and her voice trembled as she continued.
“It was my father, and I only saw one logical reason to explain what he was doing in the manor. I thought he knew about us and he’d come to get me. When I heard them move away, I left your room, ready to face him and tell him I wouldn’t go back with them. When they saw me, and when I saw the surprise on their faces, I knew I had been wrong. They weren’t here for me. In fact, they had no idea I would be there. My brothers were there too. Sebastian grabbed my arm, so hard I had bruises for a week,” she remembered, unconsciously touching her arm.
“They asked me what I was doing here, how I had gotten in… I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Paul understood first. He called me a whore, an embarrassment to our people. Then Sebastian picked up, and he swore he would find who I was here for and slit his throat.”
Amalia paused, recalling the violence of her brothers’ words, how scared she’d been for Aiden’s life. He sensed her distress and took her hand in his, the simple gesture giving her the strength she needed to continue. “They swore they would kill you, unless… unless I helped them. They hadn’t dared to go into the bedrooms, so they had only taken trinkets, silverware… Nothing of great value. I knew Sebastian’s threats were serious, and I… I remembered your safe,” she confessed, looking at Aiden’s hand still holding hers.
“I went to your study with my brothers, opened the safe for them, and they emptied it. They seemed satisfied with what I had given them and dragged me back to the others. They were trying to see if they should leave now or try to find more things. That’s when Appleton came in. Before he could say anything and warn the house, one of the men hit him with a candelabra. It became clear they had to leave as soon as possible, and they tried to drag me with them. I told them I wasn’t coming. I told them I was done with this life. Sebastian was furious. He hit me and told me I didn’t have a choice, regardless. After what they had done, after the servant had seen me, I would hang for it.” Amalia sensed a tear on her cheek and wiped it.
“I tried. I really tried, but they wouldn’t let me go. When I realized they wouldn’t change their minds, I begged them to let me take something with me first. They agreed, and I went to take the violin as a token. They hadn’t noticed the ring, so I slipped it in the case, to protect it. Then we left, and within two days we were on a boat to Spain. I tried to leave. I tried to escape, but my brothers made sure to prevent it. They’d taken everything I had. Every coin you’d given me… I had nothing left. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t do anything…”
“You still had the ring,” Aiden suggested.
“I could never have sold it.” She took out the necklace she always hid under her dresses. The three pendants on it were the large ruby and the two medium diamonds from the ring. Aiden took it between his fingers and brought it closer to examine it. Given how perplexed and surprised he seemed, it was clear he’d never expected her to still have the jewel with her.
“What happened to the rest of it?”
“The ring was far too valuable to be kept whole. After the girls were born, I had someone work on it. With the twelve small diamonds, he made four earrings.”
Aiden caught up instantly. “The earrings the girls always wear.”
She nodded, a sheepish, apologetic smile on her lips. “Then three pendants were made with the rest of it. I will give the diamond ones to Ailia and Maeve when they grow up.”
Disconcerted, Aiden kept his eyes on her, his brows furrowed in a muddled way. Amalia regretted telling him the whole story. Now he knew how she had endangered him, helped empty his safe, and abandoned him. For nearly six years now, she’d regretted not fighting her brothers harder, not screaming until the entire household was awake, not escaping her family’s grip before they’d reached the boat…
“I’m so sorry, Aiden. I should have known. My family is dangerous, and I put you and your family at risk. They could have killed you, they could have hurt your sisters… I knew what they were capable of, but I still dragged you into it. I—”
“No,” he cut her. “I knew what I was getting into. I should be the one apologizing. All this time, I thought you had been part of their plan. I thought you had come so you could open the window. I thought you emptied the safe of your own will.”
She stared at him with a frown, almost offended. “I would never have betrayed you like that.”
“I realize that now. But when all of this happened, I didn’t know what to think,” he confessed. “All the evidence pointed toward this conclusion, and I believed it. I believed it has all been a ruse. All false and meant for this purpose only. I was hurt and lost, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”
They stayed silent for a moment. Amalia had always known he might have blamed her for what had happened. But she hadn’t imagined it was to such an extent. She should have felt insulted, but she remembered how uncertain she had been back then. It was understandable he would have thought she had changed her mind once more. After all, she’d stolen his money on their first encounter.
This was why he’d been so harsh with her. Two months earlier, he’d been so full of rage and anger, desperately trying to hurt her, succeeding more than once. Now that she knew what he had thought, she realized he’d been particularly merciful. Considering the image he’d had of her, it was very lenient of him to allow her to still be a part of their daughters’ lives, and to marry her instead of all the other options. He could have thrown her to the authorities, and she would have hanged, no questions asked.
Despite everything, he had been more than forgiving, hadn’t he?
When her eyes traveled to him again, she observed him in a brand new light. The arrogant, cold-blooded man he’d become was actually a man whose heart had been broken by the woman he had loved. Her sudden disappearance, and what he’d thought of it, had made him cynical and jaded.
He was staring back at her, his eyes filled with something new. Something that resembled hope, guilt, and forgiveness. Their marriage had been based on distrust and unsaid truths… But now, with the matter finally settled, things between them would inevitably change. Their dynamics would switch, and the distrust would be discarded, making room for a different emotion.
The silence stretched between them, and she wasn’t sure how to break it. They were so close to starting over on brand new foundations, close to mending their broken marriage.
There was so much she was sorry for, so much she could have done better. First, she should have fought her brothers more. Escaping had seemed impossible, but maybe if she’d tried harder, she might have succeeded. Upon arriving back in England almost two years ago, she should have searched for him. But she’d thought he’d moved on, and the existence of the twins would have only complicated things. Also, she was sorry to have been so distant, both now and six years ago.
She was about to tell him all that when Maeve appeared on the path. “Mommy, I’m cold,” she complained, still half asleep.
With an apologetic expression on her face, she freed her hand from the hold of Aiden’s and went to the girl. He rose from the bench as well and followed. Maeve lifted her arms, asking to be carried, and Amalia indulged, pressing her against her chest to warm her. They walked back to the spot where they had left their clothes, and Amalia let her daughter down, needing to slip her own dress on. When she reached for the buttons of the jacket to undo them, Aiden turned around to give her the privacy she needed.
The skirts were easy to take care of, but she struggled with the bodice of her dress. She randomly fastened some hooks and put her hat on. She handed his jacket to Aiden, and took care of Maeve, before taking in her arms again. Aiden, who had taken the rest of their things, kneeled and lifted Ailia. Sleeping soundly, the girl barely flinched.
All four of them wandered back to the manor, and Amalia welcomed the silence of the walk. It gave her more time to think about what she would tell him.
Amalia closed the door of her chambers and leaned on it. Once they had reached the manor, Mrs. Pots had taken Ailia from Aiden, and Amalia had followed her to the girls’ bedroom. The twins had been changed into dry shirts and were taking a nap.
Now, she was afraid to face Aiden alone.
Coward wasn’t an adjective that quite suited her. She had never been one and always faced her problems without an issue. But the discussion they needed to have was a complex one, one that might change everything. He knew the truth and was willing to forgive her, which meant she would have nothing to hide behind. No excuses left to keep her distance. The thought was terrifying.
She didn’t want them to get closer, because she would undoubtedly fall madly in love with him. And he would never be entirely hers, because it was the way his kind proceeded. Men of his rank had a wife, and then mistresses to trump the boredom of the marital bed.
He made her heart race when he entered the room, made her insides flutter when their eyes met, and occupied too many of her thoughts. She had been dreaming about him every night, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never get him out of her head.
In all truth, she would fall for him, regardless. It had already started.
Amalia’s heart missed a beat as the truth struck her like a slap on the face. She was already falling in love with him. But since when?
Had it happened when they’d shared a moment during their brief piano lesson? Or when she had caught him having a tea party with their daughters one afternoon? Or even back at the stream near Bristol, when she had seen him so dashing and strong? Or was it way before that, and she’d never stopped loving him all these years?
Amalia’s emotions were suddenly too much for her to handle, and her vision became blurry, tears filling her eyes. The idea of him going to see another woman was already torture. She already ached at the thought he might one day abandon them up here and go live more freely in London.
By staying away from him, she wasn’t protecting herself anymore. Her heart would break even if she didn’t give into her need for him. She was losing so much instead. This was depriving them from moments they could have together, from happiness, laughter, pleasure… Such euphoria, even short-lived, seemed better than having nothing, only the pain of never having him. If he decided to move onto other women, in a few months or years, she would at least have had him for a moment, however fleeting it would be.
Destiny had stolen over five years from them, and it was terrible to know they’d never get those back. Now, she had to ensure not another day would be taken away from them.
Deciding they had lost enough time, Amalia took a deep breath and went to the door that separated their rooms. In her two months here, she’d stared at it for hours. Tucked in her bed at night, she’d kept her eyes on it, anxiously hoping the handle wouldn’t turn. She’d been scared it might open, and he’d come in to claim what she owed him. He could have forced her to lie with him so she’d give him the heirs he needed, but he never had.
He’d thought her to be a lying thief, a sneaky traitor, who’d abused his feelings for her to get what she wanted. In retrospect, he’d treated her with so much kindness and generosity, it was baffling. Aiden wasn’t the imperious totalitarian she’d thought him to be. He’d never been that way, just a broken and disillusioned man.
For a moment, she stood in front of the door, making sure she was doing the right thing. They needed to move on from the past, and start writing their future together, start living the present they both deserved. She would give him everything, her love, her body, her soul, and with some luck, it would be enough. With some luck, he would never need to go elsewhere.
Feeling brave and confident, she put her hand on the door’s knob and opened it.
This song is romantic, and maybe a little too light for the tone of the chapter, but I like how it’s hopeful and rich with possibilities: Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra in B-Flat Major: II. Andante moderato, by Carl Stamitz.
【42】Healing Scars
Ständchen, S. 560 (Trans. from Schwanengesang No. 4, D. 957), by Franz Schubert.
Aiden paced his room, his mind running wild with everything he’d learned. It had all been a lie. Except for her love for him, their story, her desire to elope with him… She hadn’t meant to leave him, to rob him, to break his heart… She had wanted a life with him as much as he had, and it made everything entirely different.
He’d told her nothing would change if she told him the truth. But it would. There was no way their relationship could remain the same now. He couldn’t help but see her in a new light. She wasn’t a manipulative liar who’d abused his trust. She was a victim, just as much as he was, if not worse.
Now that he knew the truth, he could even see how much worse it had been for her. She’d been forced to live with her abusive family, to travel around Europe, to care for their daughters alone. All he’d done was resent her and try to move on.
He needed to apologize to her. He needed to tell her he was sorry for the way he’d treated her, for assuming she’d lied to him and betrayed his trust. None of this was her fault, and he was a bloody arse.
After this afternoon by the lake with the twins, he could see what their lives could be like. They didn’t need to keep hating each other, they could find a balance, they could actually have a life together. Maybe it would take time, but he wanted nothing more than to try this, to live as an actual family.
Needing to talk to her, he impulsively walked to the door that separated their rooms, hoping she was back in hers. He tried his best to gather his effervescent mind, figuring out what he was going to tell her, what words he needed to say to repair everything.
He lifted his fisted hand, ready to knock, and surprise struck him when it opened on its own, Amalia standing right there, as startled as he was. She still hadn’t changed into dry clothes, and this version of her was throwing him back in time. Her dress was askew, her stylish bun was falling apart, dark, curly strands of hair framing her face, with only a few still pinned up. Somehow it made her more charming, more like the Amalia he used to know.
He realized he was staring and cleared his throat, lowering his hand.
“I was… I wanted to see if you wished to continue our conversation,” he explained, feeling abnormally uneasy. “I think we have things to talk about. We should strike while the iron is hot.”
“Yes, I feel the same.”
It was good for once to agree on something with her without having to fight for it. Aiden stepped to the side, inviting her into his room. With careful steps, she came in, her eyes curiously discovering his quarters. She’d never been in here before, and it was probably the only room she’d never seen.
Unsure where they should handle this, he guided her further in, highly aware of the bed so close to them. The silence between them was adding to the tension, so Aiden forced himself to break it. “Ama, I need to apologize for the assumptions I’ve made, and for the way I’ve treated you for the past two months. I should have asked you sooner. If I had, we wouldn’t have been in this dreadful situation, and I would have treated you with the respect and care you deserved all along.”
As he spoke, he never ripped his eyes away from hers. In the dark irises of her intense gaze, he could read many emotions, and he witnessed how relieved his words made her. Just as much as him, she’d been wanting to mend things, to make their marriage somehow tolerable. But like him, she hadn’t had the faintest clue on how to do it. It had taken their daughters and their fire spitter tale to push them to finally take a step in the right direction.
“I should be the one apologizing, Aiden. Six years ago, I should have fought harder. I should have done everything I could to stay with you, or to come back. But I let my fears get the better of me. I let my brothers win, and I let my father bend me to his will. I dreamed of a lifetime by your side, but under their tyranny, I forgot how much I wanted it.”
Her voice was distressed, and a surge of tears watered her eyes. Perturbed to see her so afflicted, he took a step toward her, getting rid of the space that separated them, and with delicate hands, he framed her gorgeous face. For a moment, he stared into her eyes, almost perceiving her soul behind them. She wasn’t holding anything back anymore. She was open to him. They were rid of the wall that had plagued their relationship since they had been reunited.
“Do you still want that lifetime with me, love?” he asked, his tone sweet and hopeful. After a moment of slight confusion, she nodded slightly, her face moving into the hold of his hands. “Then it’s all that matters…”
Unable to resist any longer, Aiden bent over slowly, eager to claim her lips. If she wanted to be his, he’d be hers. Her family couldn’t win, and his father’s deceptions couldn’t get the best of them either. Despite everything that had happened, they had found each other again, in the most fortuitous of situations.
This had to be the hand of God Himself, who’d reunited them.
And who were they to fight His will?
Aiden witnessed her surprise when he began his descent. But before his lips had reached her, she’s already closed her eyes, as desperate as he was for this.
When their lips touched, it felt as if a shock wave spread through Amalia’s entire body. More than anything else, she had refused to kiss him until now. And she’d done so because she knew just how much it affected her. Kissing him had always been her weakness, what got her to get loose, what had pushed her in his arms in the past. Aiden was a phenomenal kisser, and with the power of his lips, he could chase away all of her resolve.
Until a few seconds ago, she hadn’t been ready to let go. She’d needed to hold strong, to fight the desire that kept pulling them together. But she was done fighting. From now on, she wouldn’t refuse him anything anymore. The gentle, generous man she’d known wasn’t gone, contrary to what she’d thought. Only lost deep in the heartache and the pain her departure had caused. But Aiden was still the same man, still full of optimism and affection.
With their mouths pressed together, her mind traveled back to the naive young fools they used to be. It reminded her how much she’d thought he was the man of her dreams, the only one she’d ever loved. And just like she had in the past, she believed it now as well. Right there, with his calloused hands on each side of her face, his familiar scent filling her lungs, she fell in love with him all over again.
She felt galvanized by how right it was to kiss him. Desperate for more, she moved closer, to feel him better. Her soft front was plastered against the solid wall of his torso, as she wanted to be rid of the distance that had been separating them all this time.
After a while, Aiden’s hands slid down to her waist, holding her closer, just as greedy as she was. She opened her mouth, and he followed her. Shyly, she dared to touch his lips with her tongue, trying to relive how they used to kiss. He growled uncontrollably, and his tongue answered her invitation, ravishing her, taking possession of her.
Two months… She had been waiting for this for two months. Or was it six years? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that large, hard body pressed against hers. Aiden was kissing her as if it was essential, as if he needed it to live. She needed him just as much, feeling like she was finally breathing. It felt like she could never stop, as if she would never get enough of that, of him…
Her arms spontaneously moved to hook themselves around his neck, and she held him as tight as she could. Her body seemed to remember better than her how this works, because her head tilted to the side, adjusting their angle, demanding more, taking more. She wanted everything, needed it all. He felt the same way apparently, and his hands were now moving along the curves of her body, eagerly palming her shapes.
They stood like this in the middle of his room, taking and giving, knowing it could never be enough. Things intensified with each passing moment, and soon their feverish gestures became clumsy.
Her unstoppable moan echoed between them when Aiden pressed her breasts in his palms, gently fondling them, teasing the hardening tips that laid under the layers of her clothes… It sent an intense shiver under her skin, and all of it seemed to end straight between her legs, where her need for him was growing imperious. The appreciation she’d shown for his gesture seemed to invigorate him. He slid his hands down and grabbed her behind to pull her hips against him.
She moaned again when she felt his hardness pressing on the most sensitive part of her. Dazed by passion, lost into the blurry fog of it, she pulled on the belt of his robe. When she managed to undo it, she pushed it over his shoulders, never letting go of his lips. Adamant to feel all of him, she let her hands wander on his chest, his stomach. The muscles under his skin were firm, so different from hers. She enjoyed how his light fur tickled the inside of her palms.
Soon, feeling him wasn’t enough. She wanted to see him, too. With one last graze of her tongue on his, she moved away from his lips and took a step back to admire him.
She looked at him and had to bite her lip not to let out a sigh. He was perfect. Six years ago, she had thought nothing would have made him more splendid, but the version she had before her was, without a doubt, the best one any man could achieve. Or any god, she thought, doubting Apollo himself had been such a vision. With the tip of her fingers, she caressed the freckles scattered on his shoulders, feeling blessed to be able to see them again.
He stayed there, unmoving except for his ragged breathing, allowing her to inspect him, and she felt the urge to taste him. She came closer, and with a light touch, she licked the hollow path between the muscles of his torso. She went up, tasted the skin on his throat, and kissed a spot where she could see a vein palpitating. Moving back down, she then kissed one of his nipples. She remembered how much she enjoyed it, and wondered if he liked it as well. She bit it slightly, licked, and teased. When he growled, she smiled and went to the other one.
His patience was wearing out, and before she was even there, he pulled her back up and took her mouth again. Some part of her sensed he was guiding them in the room, moving them closer to his bed, but she was too busy enjoying his taste to take notice.
He tugged at her dress, and the bodice loosened, allowing her to breathe better. His hands were then at her hip, and soon after, her skirts were flowing down her legs. Her corset had front hooks, and she thanked her maid for choosing this one earlier. It felt above her strength to let go of his lips.
All of this was so right, she didn’t, for one second, recoil or feel embarrassed by him undressing her. She wanted him with everything she had. She wanted to experience passion in his arms again, to lie beneath him while he gave her what she’d been craving.
As he was almost done removing her clothes, Amalia decided it was only fair to get rid of what was left of his. She moved her hand to the fastening of his breeches and undid the buttons, one by one. The task took longer than it should have, as her hands were trembling with anticipation. When she reached the last of them, she didn’t even take the time to push the garment down his hips.
Feeling adventurous, she slipped her hand inside the opened breeches and grabbed his thick girth. It was as she remembered; like nothing else. It was like silk to the touch, but it was hard as stone. This part of him was strangely warm, and when she tightened her hold, it seemed to have a pulse. Desirous to feel more, she moved along the length of it.
With an uneasy laugh, he pulled her hand out of his trousers. “Love, if you want me to last, you cannot keep doing that.”
She smiled, enjoying the power she had over him. Once more, she kissed him with vigor and pushed him closer to the bed. He kneeled before her, his half-open pants hanging low. One by one, he got rid of her stockings, his fingers sliding down her legs, caressing the inside of her thighs, making her shiver. As he got back up, he grabbed the hem of her chemise.
He pulled it up, but she resisted, pushing his hands down. “I want to keep it.”
“And I want to see you.”
“I… I can’t,” she said, avoiding his gaze. He noticed something wasn’t right, and he grabbed her chin to make her look at him. The gentleness in his eyes almost troubled her.
“Why? What is wrong, Ama?”
“It’s… You have to understand… I was enormous when I was pregnant with the twins. And my body has changed. I have marks and the skin never went back to the way it was.” She felt humiliated, and her eyes became glassy. She tried to look away, but he held her right there, forcing her to accept his compassionate stare. It was as though he could sense her distress. He bent and laid a soft kiss on her lips.
“You don’t have to be ashamed. There is nothing that could make me want you less.”
“It is easy for you to say,” she objected. “You look so good it’s ridiculous. Look at yourself!”
Aiden looked down. “Ama, you don’t see me as I see myself. Look.” He showed her a nasty scar on the left side of his ribs. “Do you want me less for this?” She shook her head. “And this one?” he asked, showing one that looked like a star on his shoulder. She shook her head again. He continued, showing her a few scars she hadn’t even noticed.
“You see, love, those are stupid, ugly scars I got from inebriated fights, pointless duels, and idiotic accidents. You have carried the two most perfect, most adorable human beings that ever existed, and you gained a few marks from it. It cannot possibly dislike them. You should wear them with pride, and never doubt my affection for them.”
He was making a point to maintain eye contact, and Amalia was finding it hard to keep arguing about this. He wanted her to have no doubts regarding his honesty. Could she believe him? Would he not see it as damaged and repellent?
With a slow gesture, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt again, and lifted it, giving her every opportunity to object. It took everything she had, but she let him. She even helped him pass the garment over her head, lifting her arms.
He took a few steps back and looked at her from head to toe, taking his time. She was completely naked, and it was so hard to bear. It was the first time someone was seeing her like this since the birth of Ailia and Maeve. She hadn’t even allowed her sisters or the women with whom she sometimes bathed to see her, hating the marks that had been left on her. So as Aiden’s eyes roamed over these very scars, her insecurities ate her from the inside. But despite what the voices in her head were saying, there were no traces of disgust or annoyance in his heated gaze. He was discovering her with lust and adoration.
“For the past six years, I have dreamed of this moment,” he declared. “I never thought I would see you like this again… Ama, you are perfect.” He closed the distance between them in two steps and took her in his arms.
He kissed her savagely, taking possession of her, claiming his ownership over her. With baffling ease, he lifted her and laid her down on the bed, before taking place on top of her, between her spread legs.
Making sure he wasn’t crushing her, he kissed her throat, licked the hollow spot between her collarbones. His searing lips moved down her body, kissing her breasts, teasing her nipples, drawing out moans and sighs from her mouth. He kissed her ribs, followed an imaginary line in the middle of her stomach, down to her navel. She jerked at the wet swirl of his tongue around it. When he kissed her lower abdomen, where the skin was the most damaged, she tensed. But Aiden’s intensity, his determined passion, never flinched.
She was so relieved to see her damaged body didn’t repulse him, she didn’t notice when he lowered even further. It was only when he nuzzled the curls of her intimacy that she tried to push his head away.
“Aiden, what are you doing?!” she protested.
Ignoring her disapproval, he took her wrists and pinned them down on each side of her hips. She was about to object again when she felt the unmistakable touch of his tongue, brushing her where she would never have expected it.
Taking advantage of her stupor, he licked her again, spreading her wet folds with his sinful tongue. She resisted, with little conviction, and he settled his attentions on a particularly sensitive spot, sending shivers in her entire body. She moaned, and her pelvis jolted uncontrollably. God, this was delicious… Aware that he had won his battle, he let go of her wrists and gripped her hips to hold her in place.
Relentless, he licked and sucked, making her entire body twitch with pleasure. Her hands moved to his head again, but this time, it wasn’t to push him away. She guided him where she wanted, pressed him where she needed. When he slipped his tongue inside of her, she let out a trembling moan, her legs twitching on each side of his skull. When he took her sensitive bud between his lips, flicking his tongue over it, sucking on it with greed, she cried her pleasure, and he prevented her legs from suffocating him by keeping her knees apart.
She’d been wanting this so badly, she peaked incredibly fast. Her orgasm took her by surprise, sending waves after waves of pleasure. His hands moved to her hips, to keep her still as she jolted under his merciless tongue. Unable to hold back, she squeezed his head between her clamped thighs, her legs desperately needing to close around something.
The echoes of her moans and cries resonated against the walls of the room, and she could barely believe it was coming from her. She felt a little embarrassed by the intensity of it, but there was nothing she could do to hold them back. He was still licking, knowing precisely what he was doing, pushing her as far as he could, for as long as possible.
When the intensity lessened, one of his hands released her hip, and instants later, she felt him tease her entrance with his fingers, sliding them over her needy slit. He pushed two of them inside of her, and her hips spontaneously rocked, the intrusion so exquisite she couldn’t help it.
While his mouth never stopped its torturous ministrations, he slid his fingers in and out of her, making her delirious with pleasure. Despite her sighs and moans of bliss, and the pleas she sometimes let out, begging him to give her more, she could hear the wetness of her center, the humid sound of his fingers thrusting into her over and over again. Before she could understand what was happening to her, a second orgasm, deeper and stronger than the first one, took over.
Clearly, she lacked experience in the matters of the flesh, because she would never have imagined so much euphoria was possible. She was helpless, her body convulsing with a pleasure that seemed so very close to pain. Aiden’s tongue slowed down, and he removed his fingers carefully. He gave her long and soothing licks to help her recover from what he’d just done to her. Amalia slowly came down from her high, an irrepressible smile stretching her lips.
Little by little, her legs relaxed, and his head was free again. When the last tremor passed through her body, Aiden moved back up, looking very pleased with himself. She brushed his disorganized hair and smiled at his smug expression.
“That was… I didn’t think this was possible,” she admitted, still confused by what this had been.
“That was just a little mise en bouche ,” he said, very proud of his wordplay.
She laughed, her heart impossibly full for her husband, and kissed him with passion, wanting to show him how grateful she was.
Aiden has learned some tricks during those 6 years apart 😏
There aren’t many sexy classics, which is a shame. I’d definitely share some old-timey version of Redbone otherwise… If anyone knows who was the equivalent of The Weeknd back then, send that knowledge toward me, thank you!
In the meantime, this will make do: Ständchen, S. 560 (Trans. from Schwanengesang No. 4, D. 957), by Franz Schubert
【43】At Long Last
Les Boréades: The Arts and the Hours, by Jean-Philippe Rameau
Aiden was in heaven. With the taste of her on his tongue, he retook possession of her mouth.
He could barely believe what was happening. In a matter of hours, they had gone from ignoring each other to this. Did this mean Amalia had been holding back as much as he had? Like two stubborn idiots, they had been fighting this unavoidable outcome. Ever since he’d met her, he had been pulled to her by an invisible link that couldn’t be broken. They were bound to each other. They had been ever since they’d met, six years ago.
And they were finally embracing it.
He could never get tired of her, of her soft skin, her sweet smell, her enchanting moans… Under him, she was grinding, demanding more – demanding everything. Her hands were pulling him closer, her hips thrusting up. Between them, the drenched slit of her was rubbing against the underside of him through the fabric of his trousers, and it was making him mad with need. Despite the two orgasms he’d given her, she hadn’t had enough.
She was so responsive, so sensitive… If he tried, he could make her come like this, rubbing the front of his pants against the center of her needs. He wanted to draw out more of those whimpering cries, to see her ecstatic expression, feel her blissful spasms. Most of all, he needed to be inside of her. Badly.
Moving back slightly, he shoved the waist of his pants lower, enough to free his aching cock, dying to feel her tight intimacy surrounding him. In seconds, he’d possess her again. Amalia. His Amalia. The beautiful, enchanting, and strong-headed bohemian who’d stolen his heart from the first time he’d seen her.
In desperate need of oxygen, she ripped her mouth away from his, gasping for air. Reluctant to let go of her taste, he hungrily settled his lips on her throat, right over a pulsating vein, enjoying the saltiness of the thin veil of sweat now covering her body. As he sucked on the tender skin, he guided himself to her entrance.
He toyed with her for a moment, pressing the head of his cock over her satiated folds, barely entering her, withdrawing… She whimpered and shivered every time the tip of him grazed her engorged clitoris, and he adored how expressive she was in her pleasure. She wasn’t shy about expressing it, letting him see just how much she enjoyed everything he did to her. As much as he needed to be deeply planted into her tight warmness, he gave her every opportunity to change her mind. He wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone in his life, but if she wasn’t ready, he would wait.
He teased her like this until she groaned with impatience, throwing her hips toward him, trying to take him inside her needy slit. Understanding she wouldn’t stop him, he pushed himself up to see her gorgeous face, and with one vigorous thrust, he lodged his obscenely hard flesh inside of her soft wetness. He witnessed the shock and the satisfaction on her delicate features as she let out a small scream. For an instant, he worried he might have hurt her, especially given how tight she was. He quickly dismissed his concern as she locked her legs around his hips and undulated hers beneath him.
Determined to be gentle, he moved slowly, to allow her inexperienced femininity to get used to his sizable invasion. Even after two orgasms, she was gripping him like a fist, and Aiden gritted his teeth, worried he would spill too early. Gauging her reactions and the expressions on her gorgeous face, he changed his pace. Faster, slower, deeper, harder… He was so focused on her pleasure that his own became secondary. He watched as her cheeks got redder, her legs clenched tighter around him, her sighs turned into moans… She tried to keep her eyes on him, but sometimes the pleasure became too much, and she had to close them to feel it whole.
She grew impatient with his tender attentions and tried to speed his rhythm up, writhing her hips fiercely. He didn’t even try to resist her call. She was like a tempting siren, and as a mere mortal, he wasn’t equipped to defy her will. Slowly, he pulled out until only his tip was lodged in her, before ramming back inside of her with a deep shove. His new momentum began hard, and it grew stronger with each shove. She desperately pulled him closer, her nails digging into the skin of his back. He gave her more with each sigh, sob, or cry she let out.
Their hunger knew no bounds, and they both embraced it.
The power this woman had over him was irrational. Nothing in his life had ever felt better or more right than this. Being here with her, into her, felt like the most sublime experience of his life. She was so warm, soft, wet, and tight around him, he genuinely wondered if any other woman could ever feel this perfect. And beside him, she was so incredibly beautiful, with her face reddened by passion, her eyes glistening with pleasure, adamantly holding his gaze… Fuck, she was too much for him. At this rate, he’d spill much too early, which hadn’t happened in years. It hadn’t happened since her, actually…
At least, he had to make sure she would come first, for both her satisfaction and his reputation. He adjusted their angle so that the base of him would pound on her sensitive crest with every thrust.
He was trying to focus on everything that was happening. The sounds were quite spectacular, and the room was filled with the noises of their lovemaking. The slapping of their flesh, the wet sounds from where their bodies joined, the bed slightly banging on the wall… But he could barely hear it. His attention was fixed on her. She was letting out the most sensual sounds he had ever heard, more voluptuous than any courtesan, more authentic than any woman he’d ever had.
Amalia… His Amalia…
He had no idea how long he stayed like this, pounding into her intensely, and their bodies became sweaty, their breathings erratic… On a few occasions, he found himself about to come, but he always managed to hold back, slowing his pace or remaining deeply planted into her, waiting for his excitement to lower just enough so he could keep going for a little longer.
She shattered under him, and he swallowed each of her cries, rendered mad by the quivering of her tight channel around him. With her multiple orgasms, the friction between them was so wet it almost felt creamy, like fucking the softest of pussies. Unable to hold back, he claimed her lips again, worried he’d never get his fill of her. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough; there was no way.
When she toppled over the edge yet again with a surprised scream, he allowed himself to come with her. Her insides clutched convulsively around his shaft, her cries filled his ears, and he pushed himself up to witness her ecstatic expression. He tried to memorize all of it, to witness it all. He wanted the moment to last forever.
Her orgasm was too much for him to resist, and his own pleasure spurted out. Uncontrollably, he buried his face in the curve of her throat, and jerked his hips firmly, to be as far as he could inside of her, and came in a bone-melting climax that tore him apart.
He had never been very vocal during sex, but a savage roar passed in his throat, then another one, as he was emptying his seed inside of her quivering channel. His body and his instinct took control, as he was having the most intense release he had ever experienced.
Slowly, the intensity of what had just happened lessened, and they stayed unmoving in the now quiet room. For a while, he remained like this, his weight on her, his softening cock buried deep inside of her, relenting to pull away from her.
She was caressing his back with delicate grazes, the intoxicating scent of her now altered by the unmistakable smell of sex. Once his limbs worked again, he pushed himself up to meet her eyes. She was so marvelously charming, her cheeks adorably red, her messy hair forming a dark halo around her lovely face, a thin layer of sweat making her skin shimmer. Her lush lips parted when his gaze lowered to them, and he gladly took her invitation. He kissed her, their tongues lazy and languorous.
After a moment of this, he carefully pulled out of her and rolled to the side, dropping his large body onto the mattress with a sigh. Utterly speechless, he stared at the ceiling, distraught by the intensity of it all.
His memories of their intimacy hadn’t been overemphasized as he’d suggested. It had actually been far from the indescribable experience he had just lived. And abstinence had nothing to do with it.
Admittedly, it had been over two months now since he’d last had a woman. But in the past, such prolonged breaks had happened, and never had sex felt so good. It was her . After all, she had cast a bohemian spell on him with the Draba. It was the only thing that could explain what had just happened.
Amalia rolled too and pressed herself against his side, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him. She settled there, her head resting on his chest, one leg hooked over his. He kissed her hair and wrapped his arm around her, still amazed by the turn of events.
“I’m sorry I have been so distant,” she said with a small voice. “I was afraid I would fall in love with you, and then be heartbroken when you would eventually leave for another woman.”
At this moment, Aiden couldn’t even conceive going into another woman’s arms. It felt as if he’d just learned how to fly, and the thought of going back to his other experiences felt impossible.
“What changed your mind?”
“I realized it was stupid of me.”
“What do you mean?”
She lifted her head, resting her chin on him, and looked at him. “I was so worried about what I might lose that I forgot about what I was missing.” He said nothing, understanding only too well what she meant. “I know your people take mistresses and discard their wives, and I was so scared it would happen to us. In all fairness, I still am. But now I want to take whatever I can before you decide you’ve had enough of me. I know it will happen, but I decided that at least, I could make the best of it.”
Wordlessly, he admired her, repeating the words she’d just uttered over and over again in his head. She was so beautiful, so incredible. Her cheeks were still pink, her lips red and swollen, her dark eyes were sparkling with happiness. To complete the perfect portrait, her ebony hair was framing her face in a joyous mess. Not expecting for him to say anything in return, she turned her head and laid it back on his chest, her arm going around his torso to hold him tight.
He had never met a woman he had wanted that much, a woman that had haunted him as she had… All those years, she’d been with him in his head. Despite everything, he had constantly compared other women to her, and it was never to those women’s advantage.
Aiden frowned as he realized just how important she had been in his life. He had tried to convince himself that his obsession with her had been out of hatred over her supposed betrayal. However, relatively soon after he’d seen her again, his grudge had vanished, and he had done his best to secure her a place by his side and had been enjoying their moments together.
Now, he was lying with Amalia in his arms, feeling like the happiest man alive, lucky to have her affection.
How many dreams had he had of this moment when he would have her again? Countless… Certainly more than the dreams he’d had of finally having his revenge over her. Had he been mistaking his feelings all this time? His affection for this woman was stronger than he had been willing to admit, and ever since their reunion, they had only gotten stronger.
On several occasions, he had found himself looking at her from afar, studying her, enjoying the sight of her. The twins never failed to amuse her, and the frankness of her laughter was always refreshing. Now and then, when it was her turn to tell the girls a story, Aiden would stand right outside the door, listening to the elaborate tales she came up with, enjoying the way her mind worked.
He had to be honest with himself. Despite his prejudice regarding her departure, in spite of her stubbornness, of the way she defied him constantly, he couldn’t imagine his life with any other woman. She was the only one who could ever satisfy him the way she did. Be it physically or intellectually. There wasn’t a single woman who could compare to his wife.
He squeezed her in his arms and kissed her hair.
“I won’t go anywhere,” he declared.
“Hmm?”
“I won’t have mistresses and a distant life. Not if I can have you.”
She moved up to study him, confused. “You don’t have to say that. I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted you to know.”
He took her chin between his index and his thumb. “And I want you to know I won’t seek other women.”
She still seemed dubious, and Aiden couldn’t help but smile. “As much as I have tried to hate you, you were always the woman of my dreams… The one that surpassed any others. I blamed you for never getting out of my mind. But the truth is, I was the one not letting you go.” He paused, and with his thumb, he brushed her lower lip. “I have waited for six years. I’m never leaving you.”
He took her mouth with his, and she answered with great enthusiasm, wrapping herself around him, giving him the access his tongue needed to brush against hers… Their kiss turned wild, and they rolled on the bed until he ended up nestled between her legs, his shaft swelling again.
Stunned by the power this woman had over him, he let out an incredulous laugh. He had just experienced the most intense, most draining orgasm of his life, barely five minutes earlier, and he was ready to do it all over again.
Amazed, he kissed the beautiful witch who had cast a spell on him, ready to satisfy her once more.
This piece is so soothing and beautiful, I hope you guys like it. It doesn’t exactly fit the ambiance, but we already established they didn’t do sexy sound back then… Les Boréades: The Arts and the Hours, by Jean-Philippe Rameau.
【44】Octuplets
Dido and Aeneas, Z. 626 / Act 3 - “When I Am Laid In Earth” Dido’s Lamento (Arr. For Cello), by Henry Purcell
Amalia welcomed his powerful body over hers, her need for him insatiable. As it turned out, the memories she had of the last time she’d been in a bed with him were far from the reality of it. She’d always thought of their stolen moments, six years ago, with great fondness, but it was nothing compared to this.
What she’d just experienced, the pleasure she’d felt, the bond they’d experienced, the infinite closeness they’d shared, was so much more than anything she remembered. She hadn’t even known such intensity was possible. And with some luck, she would soon find out if it could be repeated.
While Aiden ravaged her with an ardent kiss, she pushed his breeches away, wanting him entirely naked this time. He indulged her, letting go of her just long enough to get rid of the garment, and in a matter of seconds, he was back on her. He dropped a series of kisses, licks, and small bites on her throat, shoulders, and chest, apparently not in a hurry to have her again. She, however, had other plans. She reached between them to grab his hardened shaft, hoping she could speed up the process.
The low vibration of his groan reverberated in the nipple he was teasing, and knowing she was doing something right, she tightened her hold. With a boldness she didn’t know she possessed, she guided him, angling the head of him toward her dripping intimacy.
Aiden didn’t need more of her insistence, quickly complying. Gently, he pushed forward, nudging inside of her, and Amalia sighed with delight. He let go of the pebbled tip of her breast and looked up to meet her eyes. She drowned into his blue irises, intense emotions invading her.
Aiden… Her Aiden.
The man she’d fallen for years ago. The only man she’d ever loved. Her husband.
That part of him was filling her so perfectly, moving in and out of her. As for the rest of him, he looked imperiously strong and powerful over her. His body was perfect in every way, adding to the untamable lust she had for him. If earlier it had been rough, hard, and exquisite, this time it was tender and intense. His shoves were deep and slow, allowing her to feel every vein on his shaft, as well as the plum-like head of it. Her pleasure built up, slowly, deliciously, and she lifted her head, demanding a kiss, which he gladly gave her. Just as she remembered, Aiden was gifted with those, and she’d never tire of the way he consumed her with passionate devotion.
She began to feel like she wasn’t doing enough, letting him do all the work, and she decided to do something about it. Her hands slithered lower, brushing the ripped sides of his ribs, the muscles of his back, and firmly grabbed his behind, pulling him harder against her. He grunted something intelligible in her mouth and picked up the pace slightly. Spreading her legs wider, she pushed her hips up, following his rhythm, silently begging for more.
Aiden was so attentive to her every need, he instantly answered her plea, ramming inside of her harder, gifting her with long and deep strokes. He ripped himself away from her lips and passed one of her legs over his shoulder. In this new position, he seemed to reach even deeper, and an intense wave of pleasure struck Amalia, making her cry out.
Less than ten seconds later, she was coming apart again, trying to hold on to him while shivers – so intense they resembled pain – roamed through her body. Mercifully, he slowed down, sparing her from more pleasure, which would have certainly been too much. After what felt incredibly long, she slowly came down in the safe confines of his embrace, her body relaxing, her limbs freeing him.
When she met his eyes, he gave her an adoring smile, layered with pride.
“That was… I don’t even have the words,” she hesitated, her mind still nebulous from her climax.
“We aren’t over, love.”
Just like before, he hadn’t found his release with her. Dear Lord, that was something that was quite different from the time they’d done this before. His young self hadn’t displayed such stamina, and she worried this version of him might ruin her entirely. Before she could answer, he resumed the rolling of his hips, reviving her dying orgasm.
While we worked her to another mind-blowing climax, she couldn’t help but wonder; how had they managed to hold back from this for two months? And how stupid must they have been to deprive themselves of this?
To think they could have been doing that all along…
Amalia tried to get a hold of herself, still disoriented after their union. They were both looking at the ceiling, trying to calm their erratic breathings. She moved closer to him, not liking the distance between them, and rested her head on his arm.
Now that they had talked, she was feeling so incredibly silly. She had heard so many things about Aiden’s peers that she’d been certain he would be the same way. It was common for his people to have a mistress, a concubine, or to regularly visit brothels. Miss Belrose herself had explained that pretending to see nothing was one of the duties of a respectful wife. She had even argued that most wives were happy to let this aspect of marriage be handled by others.
It was ridiculous. Amalia would never be fine with Aiden sharing his bed with another woman. Now, more than ever, she was certain of it.
He had promised he wouldn’t go anywhere, and even though she truly wanted to believe him, she couldn’t help the doubts she still had. Clearly, he was satisfied with her for now, but he would still change his mind after a few weeks, months, or years. Once the novelty of her would fade off, what was to assure her he wouldn’t grow tired of her and move on?
At least, they had the present to enjoy, so she decided to stop worrying about future possibilities that may very well never come.
She wriggled closer to Aiden, enjoying the warmness of his skin. “For how long do you think we have to keep up this rhythm, to make up for the six years we have missed?” she jokingly asked.
“I would say six months, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t survive a week of this. You will be my death, woman.”
She laughed and kissed him on the side of his chest. He moved his arm from under her head and turned to look at her, observing her body. His fingers brushed her gently, drawing arabesques on her skin.
The sun was getting lower outside, and it would soon be time to get ready for dinner. Embarrassed by his examination, she tried to retreat under the covers, but he didn’t let her, embracing her tightly. His hand reached her lower abdomen, where she had her disgraceful stretch marks.
“Tell me about the pregnancy,” he asked, still drawing imaginary lines on her stomach.
Amalia sighed and looked down to where his hand was tenderly grazing the traces of her childbearing months. It was the souvenir the girls had left her, carved into her very skin.
“We were already settled in Spain when I realized what was happening. It took me a while because I had been feeling sick ever since we left England. I was disheartened, I had no appetite, I was depressed… When I understood I would have a child, it gave me a purpose. It gave me something to fight for. I tried to hide it for as long as I could, with the help of my aunt. Ingrid was leaving for France, to join her companion, so we’d decided she would take me with her. We almost made it, but my mother realized I was with child. From that point forward, I was forbidden to leave. My aunt left as planned, but I stayed. I eventually managed to join her, a year and a half later, when my father died.” She paused, the memory still painful.
“Halfway through the sixth month of my pregnancy, I was told I was carrying twins. It happens in my family, but it was still a shock. It was so hard, Aiden. I was so heavy, I couldn’t sleep properly, I was constantly hungry… I couldn’t wait for them to come out. I regretted ever thinking that when it was actually time to deliver them. They were born over a month too early, and they were so tiny.” She showed him with her hands the size they had been. “I was so worried they wouldn’t make it, I didn’t leave their side for a month. But they got stronger with every passing day. When I was told they were out of danger, I collapsed and cried with relief.”
“You made strong babies,” said Aiden before kissing her forehead.
“ We did.“
“How did you choose the names?”
“When I thought I was having just one, I had decided upon Aiden, for a boy, and I really hoped it would be a little man like you. But then, I wanted to prepare for the case that it would be a girl, so I took the habit of asking every Celtic or Irish person I came across to give me names from their country. They were quite rare in Spain, but one had given me Maeve, the name of an ancient queen. And later, another one told me about her sister, named Ailia. She told me it meant light, and I fell in love with it. It was the perfect balance between you and me, Aiden and Amalia made Ailia.”
Aiden blinked, astonished. She grinned when she understood he’d never noticed how their firstborn’s name was a perfect mix of theirs.
“You hadn’t noticed?” she teased. “I thought it was a bit too sentimental, but I didn’t care. When I heard it would be twins, I chose Ailia and Maeve for the girls, and Aiden and Eoin for boys. I wanted so badly to have one of each, so I could have one Ailia and one Aiden,” she recalled.
“We were lucky they were both girls.”
Amalia frowned, unsure what he meant by that. “Why?”
“Had one been a boy, he would have been deprived of his legacy, my title, and lands. It’s reserved to natural children, born from a legal wedding. I don’t know how we would have dealt with all of that… The girls are lucky. The moment they became my wards, they became as entitled as would have been my own.”
Amalia nodded mechanically, her eyes unfocused. She could tell he had been thinking about this a lot.
“I wish I had seen you pregnant. I would have taken care of that insatiable appetite of yours,” he teased. She blushed, not sure he was talking about her hunger for food. She looked around at the messy bed.
“You will soon see me carrying your child if we keep this up,” she noted.
The idea pleased him immensely. “And now that I’m a real man, it might even be quintuplets,” he humored, and she bit her lip to quench her laughter.
His sneaky hands grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, while he amorously kissed her with feverish intensity. “I’ve never seen quintuplets, this will be the occasion for it.”
She chuckled and shoved him away. “If I let you have your ways it will be octuplets, stay away from me.”
Outside in the corridor, a servant dropped a metal plate, startling them.
“What time is it?” she wondered, realizing they had spent a great deal of time in bed.
Aiden rolled out of it and went to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. The entire time, she kept her eyes on him, admiring his super form. That man truly was magnificent. He told her it was a quarter past six, which had her groaning with disapproval. In the summer, they enjoyed supper around seven thirty, which meant their moment was nearly over.
He poured himself a glass of water, drank it in one go, and poured another one for her. When he came back to the bed, she had slipped under the covers and was sitting, her back to the headboard, a sheet tucked under her arms, hiding her chest. She saw him hold back a smile, but he said nothing. Her sudden modesty, when he had just spent the afternoon kissing and licking every part of her body, seemed pointless, and she was well-aware of it.
She emptied the glass he handed her before settling it on the nightstand. Aiden was looking at her with intensity, and she knew he wanted more, just like she did. As if to prove her thoughts, he joined her under the covers and pulled on the sheets to uncover her breasts. She tried to resist with a giggle, despite her desire for him, arguing that there wasn’t enough time.
“I can be quick,” he countered.
“Yes, I remember.”
Her witty response seemed to surprise him, but instead of being offended, he intensified his sensual attempt at seducing her. “Just for that, I should make it last all evening, to discipline my disrespectful wife.”
The threat sounded more like a promise, and Amalia considered it for a few seconds, knowing she wouldn’t want anything more than to stay locked in here with him. He noticed her hesitation, and with a low chuckle, he disappeared under the covers. He followed the lines of her body with a hungry mouth, his tongue sampling her. When he reached the dark triangle between her legs, she wasn’t protesting anymore. Her entire body was tense with anticipation.
Her last thought, before her mind was overflown by lust, was that it would definitely be octuplets.
I have legit no idea if any of you listen to the songs I post, but I enjoy discovering new pieces, so I don’t care! Don’t hesitate to subscribe to my playlist on Spotify if you want to enjoy 4h23 of classical music xD
This song is sad, longing, and beautiful: Dido and Aeneas, Z. 626 / Act 3 - “When I Am Laid In Earth” Dido’s Lamento (Arr. For Cello), by Henry Purcell.
【45】Midnight Dive
Violin concerto No. 10 in G Major Largo, by Chevalier de Saint-Georges (Joseph Bologne de Saint-George)
For the first time, Aiden wished he was alone with his wife instead of enjoying dinner with her and the girls. All he wanted was to return to his bed with her, so they could enjoy more of these rapturous moments together.
But despite how everything had changed, and how their lives had been thrown upside down, it was good to keep a sense of normalcy. He almost felt ashamed for wanting this moment with the girls to end so badly so they could return to enjoying each other’s body.
God almighty, he still couldn’t believe just how spectacular sex with Amalia was. He’d thought he’d seen it all, thought he’d known everything the pleasures of the flesh had to offer. But he’d been so far from the truth. Even his most erotic encounters, with the most promiscuous of women, mistresses who had significant experience and held outstanding talents, hadn’t been nearly as satisfying and earth-shattering as the few hours he’d spent with his wife.
And she must have felt the same deep connection to him, as well as the same desire to return to his bed, because they exchanged knowing looks during the entire super. They had held back their desires for weeks, ignoring the bond that pulled them toward one another. But now, they were embracing it, taking everything they’d held back from. And there was so much he wanted to take.
Per usual, the twins had a lot to talk about, and most of it revolved around the next time they would all go on a fishing expedition. Ailia was still upset about losing her fishing rod, and Maeve was disappointed that not a single fish had shown an interest in hers.
It seemed time was purposefully playing tricks on him, and had deliberately slowed to test his patience. When the desserts were finally taken away, he nearly let out a sigh of relief. He wished the girls a good night and pleasant dreams, and Amalia took them away with the nanny. It was her turn to tell them a story, and he hoped she would make it short and efficient.
As he impatiently paced his room, Aiden realized he might have a problem. Was it normal to be this obsessed with a woman? It seemed rather extreme to be so entirely consumed by the thought of her, to have such a keen desire to spend time with her. At least, he was lucky enough to find himself in this position regarding his own wife. It made that matter much easier to handle.
After a moment, he heard a sound coming from her room, and he stilled instantly. She was back. With hurried steps, he walked to the door that separated their rooms, eager to hold her again, to undress her and feel her skin against his. Six years. This woman had haunted him for six years, and she was finally his to have again.
He waited, hoping for the door to open, but nothing came. Inside her room, he heard her footsteps coming and going, but she didn’t move toward the door. Doubts settled in his mind before he could prevent them. Maybe she’d had enough for today. Maybe the untamable need he had for her wasn’t reciprocated.
Before his mind took him too far, the talking of her shoes came closer to the door. He nervously watched the handle of the door turn. When the panel opened, she jumped slightly, startled to find him right there.
“Sorry,” she sheepishly started, meeting his eyes with her. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to join you for the night or—”
He didn’t even let her finish her ridiculous sentence, and reached for her nape to pull her in. In seconds, they were kissing with intensity, their hands coursing each other’s bodies, pulling on clothes to get rid of the fabric that separated them.
As he kissed her, high on her taste, dizzy with the powerful feelings it ignited in him, he wondered for how long this fiery state would last. How long until they didn’t need each other with such fierce intensity?
With her, it would probably take weeks, months, until his need for her was sufficiently satiated. Then, maybe, they would be able to settle on a more reasonable pace.
Christ almighty…
Drenched in sweat, Aiden was struggling to cool down, his breathing heavy and erratic. How, just how , could sex be so incredibly rewarding and pleasurable?
It was bringing him great pride to make Amalia shatter underneath him, to hear her cries of pure ecstasy, to feel her tight channel quiver around him… He’d always made a point to bring pleasure to his sexual partners, because it was only fair the pleasure would be shared in such a situation. If he was to find his release, then so were they. Since he knew all too well how sexual frustration could be hard to bear, he ensured no woman was left unsatisfied by him. It was the gentleman’s thing to do.
But with Amalia, it was another thing entirely. He reveled in her pleasure, and wanted to get drunk on it. Making her orgasm was gratifying in many ways, from the sweet sounds she made to the beautiful sight she offered, as well as the knowledge that he was the one doing all this to her. He was the one making her touch the stars, over and over again.
Now, he almost regretted that his physical performances couldn’t match the pace he had in mind. If he could, he’d take her the entire night, bring her to heights she could never have fathomed existed. But after their afternoon together, and after having her again twice, he was reaching his limits.
The night was too warm for all of this, and before anything else could happen, they needed to cool down.
“How is it so hot?” she complained, her naked body sprawled next to his.
The windows were wide open, but the air outside was warm, which meant the room couldn’t get cooler than that. Had he not been so possessive of her, he might very well have asked a servant to come and fan them with a tray or something. He’d done it in the past. But there was no way anyone other than him would get to see his wife in such a state of sexual satisfaction.
“We need water,” he noted, lifting himself with a groan. On slightly wobbly legs, he headed to the pitcher. He drank two glasses, the tepid water not helping him much, and then brought one to her.
Once she was done drinking it, she dramatically fell back onto the bed. “We need way more water than that.”
“We have a whole lake we could drink from,” he humored, lying next to her again.
Amalia remained silent for a moment, and when he turned to her, he saw she was thinking intently. “What’s on your mind, love?”
“I know what we need.”
Without another word, she jumped out of the bed. If his legs had been wobbly, it was nothing compared to hers. She could barely walk straight, and the proof of what he’d done to her made his chest swell with pride. His wife would never go to another man, because he would take care of all of her needs, and even a few she didn’t know she had.
She disappeared into her room, and Aiden distractedly listened as she did something there. When she came back, she was wearing a dressing robe, tightly tied around her waist. She hadn’t spent long enough in there to have slipped a shirt underneath, and Aiden quite liked the idea.
“Come on, get up,” she ordered. Going to his closet, she fetched his own robe.
Intrigued, he rose from the bed and slipped on the garment, curious to see where she wanted to take him. Once his nudity was shielded, she took his hand and dragged him to the door that led to the corridor. She opened it, sent her head outside, and once she was sure the path was clear, she pulled him out with her. With their hands still joined, she dragged him all the way downstairs. Every time he tried to speak, she shushed him, determined to be as discreet as possible.
It was only when she led him out of the house that he understood where she was taking him. “Darling, I was jesting. Regardless of how refreshing it might be, I’m not drinking water from the lake.”
“We’re not drinking from it.”
Barefooted, naked under their robes, and with only the nearly full moon to guide them, she took him down to the lakeside. Its dark surface was perfectly still, the lack of wind being another reason for the unusual warmth tonight.
“Now what?” he asked, still oblivious to what she wanted from him.
As soon as he caught the mischievous smile she sent him, he figured it out – even before she sent her hands to untie her robe. She let the velvety garment fall to the grown, and turned to him, splendid in her nakedness.
This woman must have been a deity. A nymph from old Greek beliefs, put on this Earth to torment and complete him.
“Come in the water with me, milord ,” she taunted him, biting down on her plump lip.
With a swift turn, she exposed her round behind to him, the silvery glow of the moon making her skin seem paler than it was. Bemused by her form and her audacity, he watched as she stepped unto the black water, her exquisite legs disappearing more under its surface with every step.
Once she was into the lake up to her thighs, she aligned her arms and dove into the water, offering him a splendid view on her bottom for an instant. Some seconds passed, and she resurfaced a little further with a contented sigh.
“It feels so good, Aiden. Come with me.”
As much as he wanted to comply, he hesitated. The darkness of the lake was making him anxious. He felt ridiculous for it, because he’d spent hours swimming in there, and he knew nothing was hiding underneath.
“Come on, darling,” she insisted.
It was the endearment that got to him. She’d never called him that before. It ignited in him an urge to be near her, and it dissipated his worries at once. After he’d let his robe fall on the grass as she’d done, he stepped into the water. The coolness of it felt amazing, and as he dipped into it more, he had to admit this was a splendid idea. Soon, he reached her, and with greedy hands, he pulled her toward him.
She allowed him to claim her lips, wrapping her limbs around him to hold onto his solid frame. It was almost surreal to be here with her, with the sounds of the night surrounding them, in the dark water of the lake. It almost felt adventurous, and the ease with which she’d done it baffled him. She really was a pirate princess, wasn’t she? It explained his obsession for her.
There were no other women like her in the whole country. He was certain of that.
They kissed for endless minutes, their bodies finally refreshed. At some point, she pulled away from him, and he watched as she let herself float, lying into the water. It brought her breasts and their perky tips to the surface, as well as the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her legs. Had he been an artist, he would have painted her just like this. She resembled a pagan goddess in all her might.
Although he couldn’t float like her, he mirrored her position the best he could, and looked at the stars like she was. She blindly reached for his hand, and they intertwined their fingers together, enjoying the utter silence, the coolness, the moment…
Had he done a better job at protecting her, they would have had six years of this. He could have seen his daughters grow, could have enjoyed more of their quirkiness. Amalia would have dragged him into more of these adventures, he would have experienced more of her whimsical way of thinking…
But it was too late now to get any of these years back. All they could do now was move forward, take care of their family, and enjoy the years to come together.
“I want another child,” he impulsively let out.
With her ears underneath the water, Amalia didn’t understand his words. She moved to a vertical position, and turned to him. “What did you say?”
“I want… I want a baby with you, Amalia. One I could see growing, one I would watch you carry. I want to witness the changes in your body, see your belly grow for our child. I want to know what I’ve missed, to catch up with lost time.”
Tongue-tied, she stared at him, her brows slightly furrowed, her mouth half-open. The last time they’d spoken about having children, it had been that awful time he’d demanded monthly access to her chambers so she could produce an heir. But it was so entirely different now. Boy or girl, it didn’t even matter. All he wanted was to experience everything he’d been deprived of. He wanted to see his seed grow within her, to hold his newborn child in his arms, to see their first steps, hear their first words… He needed it, so he could see what exactly he’d missed with the twins.
She still hadn’t answered, so he worried he’d hurt her pride, as he’d done the last time. “Is it an issue?”
“No, it’s just… Of course we’ll have children together. It’s unavoidable now. I’m only realizing it might happen sooner than I thought, and I’m not certain the girls are ready. Their entire life has already changed so much, and having a sibling would change it even more.”
“They have adapted really well. Don’t underestimate their resilience, Ama.”
After a short hesitation, she nodded in approval. “You’re right. I always want to shield them from harm, but they are so much stronger than I’m willing to admit.”
“Does this mean you’ll have another child with me?” he wondered, gathering her against him.
“It’s not like we’ve been particularly careful regarding this. It took much less than everything we did today for the twins to come to existence.”
“I know. But I’ve seen firsthand how complicated it can be sometimes. It took a year for Annabelle and her husband to conceive their first child.”
“Then we shall work particularly hard,” she suggested, her lips teasingly kissing his throat. “Should we get back to your bed and be overzealous?”
He chuckled at her eagerness, his hands clutching her hips. “Love, if we are truly devoted to the cause, we might as well get on with it here.”
She giggled and moved back to stare at him with an incredulous expression on her face. “In the water? Very funny, Aiden. Come, we can be in your bed in two minutes.”
He didn’t release her, tightening his hold on her. It was only when he pushed his hard length against her folds, still warm despite the water, that she understood he wasn’t just bantering with her. Her eyes went huge with stupor, and despite the faint glow of the moon, he saw her cheeks turn pink.
“Can we— is it really possible?” she asked, with a keen curiosity in her voice.
“As long as that part of me can be inside of you, anything is possible, love.”
That notion was apparently very intriguing to her, and he watched with amusement as many expressions crossed her lovely face. His little witch was probably thinking of more ways to do this, and he couldn’t wait to explore with her all those ideas she may have.
She was still somewhat distracted when he sent a hand between them, his fingers gently stroking her center. This whole thing would be particularly entertaining, wouldn’t it? To teach her the ways of passion, to show her just how boundless it could all be.
As she refocused her attention on him, claiming his lips with greed, Aiden realized the incoming weeks would certainly be among the best ones of his life.
Actually, with this woman by his side, his entire life promised to be quite spectacular.
OH MY GOD, GUYS!!! Okay, I’m so excited about this piece, like, wtf. First of all, he is a black composer from the 18th century — son of a rich landowner and his wife’s slave. Saint-George is, by his social position, a figure of the emancipation of slaves from European colonial empires in the second half of the 18th century. Also, the piece I’m sharing is so good for this chapter. It’s discreet and romantic, which I mean… is totally perfect!!! So, please, give it a try! Violin concerto No. 10 in G Major Largo, by Chevalier de Saint-Georges (Joseph Bologne de Saint-George)
【46】New Curriculum
Tafelmusik - Banquet Music In 3 Parts / Production 2 - 3. Concert In F Major, TWV53:A2 - 1. Allegro, by Georg Philipp Telemann.
Amalia was the happiest she had ever been.
Ever since they had fallen in each other’s arms, the desire, the passion, and the novelty hadn’t diminished. Their marriage had taken a turn for the better, and they could barely keep their hands to themselves.
Every afternoon, the girls were sent to their room for a nap, and Amalia and Aiden would enjoy the company of one another. Reminiscent of the past, they were spending most of those moments in the music room, as they used to, years ago. At four-thirty, a tray of delicacies was brought to them, and they enjoyed those with the girls instead of just the two of them.
During their hours alone, they talked, joked, played some music… With every day that passed, they were catching up on the time they had lost. They tried to keep their afternoons as platonic as possible, learning about their past lives, asking questions, revealing secrets… Although, despite their best efforts, it would turn into something more carnal nearly every day. Sometimes they took the time to reach one of their beds, but mostly, they would lock themselves in whatever room they were in, and get on with it.
Aiden was taking his role as her tutor quite seriously, and their nights were filled with scenes of uninhibited passion. She still felt disconcerted by the way it all worked, how it could be so free and liberating. As if there was no limit to it. He liked to throw her off balance, to show her new things, things she hadn’t thought of. They were both learning what she liked and what she didn’t. So far, he hadn’t actually found anything she didn’t thoroughly enjoy. But she was starting to know what she preferred.
One afternoon, not long after it had all started, they were lolling in the music room, talking about their shared past, enjoying their newly found harmony.
“I haven’t heard you play the violin ever since we met again,” she pointed out, wondering why.
Given the grimace he gave her, she understood it was a touchy topic. “No, I’m afraid I lost all interest in it.”
“Was it because I left?”
“Yes. I couldn’t touch a violin anymore. It was charged with the memory of you. Tainted by the lies I thought you’d told me.”
Sorry once more for what he’d been through, she passed a tender hand in his hair, offering him a compassionate smile. “Now that things have been solved for the better, do you think you could try again? I loved it when you played.”
He considered the question for a moment, and it was apparent he hadn’t given it a thought since the recent developments. “I guess there will always be some reticence to it. But I could try.” She was about to agree when something changed in his attitude, and his gaze turned seductive. “Although, I must say, love… There are other things I’d rather do.”
To leave absolutely no room for interpretation, he bent toward her and pressed his lips on the side of her throat. “What sort of things?” she asked, her voice already altered by the lust he was awaking in her.
“You can’t imagine how many times I fantasized about you in this room back then,” Aiden confessed, the wet brush of his tongue tracing an incandescent line up her neck.
“Really?”
“Yes. I tried to remain focused on the lessons and the music, but my mind would always go back to this. To you and me, naked and panting, consumed by pleasure.”
Amalia felt her face heat up, the thought rather scandalous. She’d been there, giving him violin lessons, while he was undressing her in his mind. Since he never passed on an opportunity to tease her, Aiden stopped kissing her and brought his mouth close to her ear, his warm breath caressing the shell of it.
“The most recurring fantasy I had was of you straddling me, bouncing up and down my lap, impaling yourself over and over on me, bringing us both to orgasm,” he whispered, spreading a series of heated shivers through her frame.
Amalia bit her lower lip, helpless against the powerful need that was already gaining on her. Ever since they’d started to consume the passion that tied them, Aiden had often subjected her to sudden bursts of heat, and a desire that couldn’t be repressed. He was always more than willing to drag her into an empty room and take her vigorously until her lustful urges were tamed.
Today, though, she wanted to be the one taking control. She wanted to show him what a good student she was, how well he’d taught her. She was also eager to help him experience the old fantasies he used to have of her.
Determined to remain the master of her thoughts, she ripped herself away from his bewitching proximity, standing from the couch. After a languorous glance over her shoulder, she went to the cabinet where the violins were kept. She easily found his Stradivarius in there and took it out with a bow.
When she came back to him, he covered her with a look that was both curious and somehow aroused. Trying to sound as authoritative as she could, she handed him the instrument. “Play for me, Aiden.”
“I haven’t played in nearly six years, love. I’m not sure I remember.”
“Well, you better remember.”
Taking a few steps away from him, she offered him a naughty smile. With languorous moves, she undid the ties on the front of her light dress, her gaze locked into his. Aiden’s blue irises instantly dropped to her busy fingers and turned dark, his arousal going wild upon understanding what she had in mind. With her chin, she gestured toward the violin he was distractedly holding.
“Play, Aiden.”
He grumbled his disapproval for her techniques, but still got into position. With hesitant hands, he reacquainted himself with his Stradivarius, the first notes dainty and clumsy. But as he went, his confidence slowly came back, and his fingers remembered how it all worked.
Ever so slowly, Amalia loosened the front of her corsage, enough to reveal some of her shirt underneath. She wasn’t wearing a corset today, the heat too severe to bear one. When the melody he was playing stopped, she sent him a reproachful glance, interrupting once more her slow undressing.
“Amalia, if you keep teasing me, I’ll put you over my knee and smack your lovely ass with this bow,” he grunted.
With her corsage partially opened, she untied the ribbon of her shirt, revealing the crease between her breasts. “Keep playing, Aiden.”
This was a battle of wills, and she would win. Today, she was in charge.
He cursed before returning in position. Seated on the couch, his eyes followed her every move as she kept undressing. Amalia realized this was the perfect way to make him play. In the past, she’d tried to make him let loose, to force him to let his soul take control of the music and focus his mind on something else. Right now, he was only playing so she wouldn’t stop the teasing show she was putting on, and everything else was devoted to her.
When she revealed to his sight that she wasn’t wearing any stockings, adding to her lack of corset, his fingers missed a few notes, and she had to keep herself from smiling. Miss Belrose would surely scold her for her lack of proper attire, but Aiden didn’t seem to mind. Far from it. Who was she to go against the preferences of a duke?
Once she was only wearing her undergarments, Amalia undid the knot of her underwear. Still with the slowest moves she could muster, she slipped the garment down, past her shoes, and straight onto the carpet. Impatiently, Aiden began to put his instrument down, but she prevented it with a warning finger.
Embracing the boldness that seemed to have taken over her, she went closer to him, standing between his parted knees. She adored the bewildered state he seemed to be in. Teasingly, she tapped on his violin, reminding him he needed to play if he wanted more. The music resumed, messier than before, and it became worse when she kneeled in front of him.
With dexterous hands, she opened his briefs, and he lifted himself just enough so she could pull them down. His already hard flesh sprung out, and the vision had her clench her thighs, her intimacy demanding to be filled by all of it.
Amalia didn’t hold back the delighted smile that stretched her lips. Trying to seem confident, she moved to straddle him, as he’d described moments ago. She was still wearing her shirt, but the opening of it was wide enough so she could push it over her shoulders. When she revealed her breasts, their pebbled tips surely taunting him madly, he missed another few notes.
“Can I stop playing now?” he asked, almost sounding childish.
“No, not yet.”
As he struggled to keep up with the piece he’d chosen, she sent a blind hand between them and wrapped it around the thick length of flesh that demanded her.
She’d only been on top of him once, and had thought herself to be uncoordinated and awkward, even though he hadn’t seemed to mind her lack of experience. Now, though, she was certain she would do better. Today, she would show him what a good little wife she was, how an excellent student she was proving to be, and how lucky he was to have her.
Still holding his member, she guided it to her entrance, shivering when it grazed her sensitive nub on the way there. Deciding it felt too good not to try it again, she moved Aiden’s erection to rub the head of his shaft on her demanding crease. Faint whimpers escaped her lips as she shamelessly pleasured herself like this, simultaneously massaging Aiden’s thickness with her hand.
Eventually, it became too much and not enough for him, and he threw the violin away, the magnificent instrument bouncing next to them on the sofa. He grabbed onto her hips with a warning groan. “Amalia, stop torturing me or I’ll flip us around and show you what you get for being an impossible tease.”
Instead of feeling sorry for him, his dismay made her proud. She could make him lose it, too. Deciding she wouldn’t push him further for now, she aligned his thick shaft with her dripping opening. Very slowly, she let herself sink down on him, loving the way he fit so perfectly in her. He was so big that it always came with some slight discomfort, but it rapidly went away. Soon, only the overwhelming pleasure remained.
Once he was completely inside of her, she hooked her arms around his neck and used the support to lift herself up.
“Is this what you had in mind, in your fantasy?” she asked with a panting breath, her momentum slowly increasing, impaling her femininity on him at a sultry rhythm.
“This is far better than any fantasy I’ve ever had, love.”
She took his lips with a victorious smile, never stopping the movements of her hips. Eventually, the pleasure became too much, and she was forced to let go of their kiss, to focus on the luscious sensations that were spreading from her core into her entire body.
He used the opportunity to reach for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up, and she helped him remove it. Now, she was utterly naked, while he was fully dressed, aside from his pants lowered just enough so his shaft could be out. This was quite decadent, wasn’t it? To be so shamelessly exposed like this, when he still looked as proper and fashionable as ever. They’d locked the door, but if anyone were to pass by the windows, they’d find out just how debauched the new duchess was, and how completely enthralled the duke was over her promiscuous ways.
Now that she was completely exposed to his hungry eyes, he reached for her nipples. Like a starving man, he made one disappear in the greedy warmth of his mouth. Amalia tried to hold back on her cries and moans, but when he reached for her hips again, there was no holding back possible. With his imperiously powerful hands, he forced her to keep up with the pace, pulled her down so he reached deeper, assisted her efforts…
She was feeling strong and fierce, towering over him like this, finding out what felt better, what way to angle her hips, how to sway them so she could take him whole… Learning had never been so enthralling.
Eventually, she came apart, his name on her lips, her entire frame trembling as a powerful orgasm took over. Under her, Aiden chased his own relief, his hips jerking up at an intense pace. He drew more pleasure, more cries, and eventually, he followed her in ecstasy, his hands on her sides clenching the flesh harshly, his handsome face twisting into a mask of pure pleasure, which made her absurdly proud.
In the aftermath of it all, she was sprawled over him, her head on his shoulder, with him still deeply planted into her, his seed seeping out of her. They were catching back their breath, the air around them cooling their heated skins.
“And there you were, pretending you didn’t enjoy riding,” he said with a chuckle, his hand gently lowering to cup her naked bottom. His large palm grazing her soft flesh sent shivers through her satisfied body, and she felt herself clench one last time around his softening length.
She laughed and kissed him before moving away to sit next to him, despising how empty this part of her felt now. “I guess it depends on the stallion,” she humored back. “You, I could ride all day.” He seemed so proud of himself that it made her chuckle softly. “I have to confess, though, that I have never been on a horse. I never learned. We, Romas, don’t ride. We walk.”
He seemed surprised, sending her an inquisitive glance. “But you had horses in the camps.”
“Draught horses, for the caravans. We didn’t mount them. Would you mind teaching me?”
“Of course, love. Something tells me you’ll be amazing at it.”
She was still giggling at his naughty joke when he bent to kiss her, apparently wanting more from her than the wild ride she’d just had.
Okay, but like, for real, 100% try the piece that goes with this chapter. It’s so so good, guys. I love it, it’s light and melodious, and honestly such a treat to the ear!! Go go go, listen to this: Tafelmusik - Banquet Music In 3 Parts / Production 2 - 3. Concert In F Major, TWV53:A2 - 1. Allegro, by Georg Philipp Telemann.
【47】Sun and Peaches
Concerto in D major, 1st movement “Allegro giusto”, by Antonio Lucio Vivaldi.
“Aiden, I’m fairly certain this isn’t the standard way to get on a horse,” Amalia protested, half perched over her mare.
“I’ve watched you fail three times, and I happen to have a limited amount of patience. Come on, love, help me out here.”
In all truth, the stable staff had chuckled on her last attempt, and after he’d sent them a dangerous glare to warn them to hold their tongues, he’d decided to help her out. Now, she had a booted foot into a stirrup, and he was holding her halfway up, one of his hands full of her delectable arse. All she needed to do was sway her leg over her horse, and she’d be able to straddle it.
“Couldn’t someone have fetched me a stepladder or something?” she continued to argue, struggling with her skirts.
“We’ll ask for one next time. But I must say I rather like my way.”
Playfully, he squeezed the round cheek he was holding, enjoying touching her like so despite the multiple layers of fabric. She let out a gigglish squeal, and his audacious gesture gave her the impulse she needed. A few seconds later, she was safely hoisted on her saddle.
For now, because he’d rather bend the rules than see his wife break her neck, she’d learn how to ride astride, like a man, scandalously welcoming this magnificent beast between her legs. Once she’d be comfortable enough in her balance, the horse’s oscillations, and the rhythm of a trot and a gallop, they’d move on to a more proper fashion. Her side saddle was already prepared, custom-made from the finest Italian leather for her and her horse.
“All right, love. Is everything good?”
He could see her uneasiness, her body language stiff, her hands firmly clutching the pommel of her saddle. “I think I am?” she said, nevertheless.
“I promise we’ll go slow, Ama. I would never do something to endanger you.”
It seemed to reassure her, and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. It didn’t go away entirely, though. The fastest they’d start the lesson, the quicker she’d realize she had nothing to worry about. He left her to go to his horse, waiting a few steps away. With an easy and fluid gesture, he rose to straddle his hairy companion. A stable boy handed him his reins, and he gently spurred Horus into a slow walk, guiding him toward Amalia. The man holding her reins gave them to him as well, and Aiden turned to his anxious wife, a compassionate smile across his face.
“Are you ready, Ama?”
After taking a moment to swallow nervously, she offered him a nod, her hands still firmly holding onto the leather.
This time, when he put his horse into motion, he pulled her mare along with him. They exited the stables at a slow pace, the tapping of their horses’ hooves resonating against the paved ground. He had an hour-long stroll planned for them, where he’d take her to a lovely part of the estate. Once there, they’d take a break and feast on the meal the cook had packed for them. Then, when she felt ready to ride again, they’d come back to the manor, at whatever pace she preferred.
For the first mile, he was in charge of guiding her horse. A few times per minute, he turned to see if everything was fine with her, glad to notice she was relaxing a little more each time. When he stopped their horses to hand her the reins of her horse, Amalia tried to protest. To reassure her, he showed her with Horus how easy it was to guide a horse. He exaggerated the gestures, so she’d easily get the gist of it.
The fierce part of her eventually took over, and she dismissed her worries to take care of stirring her own mount.
It took them a little over an hour to reach the spot Aiden had in mind, but they got there unharmed. It was a charming clearing, with wildflowers scattered all over, and a small stream running near them. The trees there were old and majestic, and it was a place he enjoyed coming to whenever he rode. Which admittedly hadn’t happened in a while. He’d been too busy with his new life to enjoy the estate as much as he used to.
Once he was down, he went to assist his wife, taking great pleasure in letting her body slide down his.
“You did amazing, my love,” he congratulated her, rewarding her with a tender kiss.
“I barely did anything. My horse was following yours, regardless.”
“Still, you didn’t fall over and break your pretty little neck. This counts as a win.”
“Do I get a reward, then?” she asked in a seductive manner.
Her boldness had him release an incredulous chuckle, and he granted her one more kiss before leaving her there. “How about food?” he suggested, taking the bags thrown over his horse’s back.
From there, he retrieved a large and thick tablecloth. With her help, they laid it on the grass before sitting down on it.
“Shouldn’t we tie the horses?” she wondered.
Aiden glanced at their mounts, peacefully grazing on plants. “No, they shouldn’t go very far. Actually, since we might be here for a moment, I should remove their saddles.”
Energetic, he rose to his feet again to head over the horses. As he took care of taking their equipment away, Amalia busied herself with settling their picnic on the cloth, emptying the bags. When he returned, once the horses were completely free of their constraints, he looked at the food displayed. It was all very appetizing, with different hams and pâtés, a loaf of fresh bread, several types of cheeses, and various fruits.
And the most enticing element was seated in front of it all, in her jade dress, looking up at him with her dark eyes. This was definitely something they needed to indulge in more often. Little escapades like these ought to become a recurring part of their future.
While their horses were quietly busy finding the best patches of grass, Aiden and Amalia ate their own lunch – which proved to be much more intimate than when they ate at the manor. Next to one another, their bodies were constantly touching, and neither of them made a move to prevent it. Sometimes, they’d feed each other, and it never failed to ignite something dark and needy into their gazes.
By the time they reached the dessert, they were both half-sprawled over the cloth, lost in a conversation about their shared past. “No, I’m telling you. I’m the one who won that race,” she was insisting.
“Darling, I highly doubt it. You won the one from the library to the gazebo, I’ll give you that. But you did make me trip on purpose, so I’m not even sure that should count.”
“Don’t you dare take that one away from me, Aiden. You’re the one whose foot was suddenly behind mine.”
That shameless little… The defying look she gave him was laced with amusement, and he held back the protest that swelled in his chest. She was teasing him, aware just as much as he was that she’d cheated back then.
Indulgently shaking his head, he reached for a peach behind him. Using the pocketknife he’d taken with him, he cut himself a slice and brought it to his mouth. The juicy flesh crushed easily under his teeth, the fruit ripe to perfection. She watched while he prepared himself another piece, and as he was bringing it to his mouth, she raised an eyebrow at him.
“Aren’t you going to share, husband?”
He hesitated for an instant, the slice halfway into his mouth already. Something wicked came to his mind, and he closed his parted teeth around the sweet fruit. She nearly protested, but when he bent forward, with the slice partially sticking out of his mouth, she understood his intention. Something turned erotically dark into her eyes, and she gladly answered his invitation, wrapping her own lips around her portion of the fruit.
They exchanged a juicy kiss as they both bit down on the slice, and he felt some of the sugary liquid flow between them. After quickly chewing and swallowing his half, he swiftly moved back and licked up the nectar that had already reached the middle of her throat. The simple gesture, which was meant to be practical, made her tremble next to him, a shaky breath rolling past her lips.
Staring into each other’s eyes, they chewed their halves and swallowed. Very entertained by this, Aiden cut another piece, tucking it into his mouth like the one before. But this time, as he lowered toward her, he changed his course at the very last instant, and instead of aiming for her lush lips, he ran the wet slice along her collarbone. Then, he allowed her to bite into it, and busied himself lower, licking off the humid trail at the bottom of her throat.
He explored her like so with the entire peach, drawing more juice trails, more sighs, more shivers, and more pleading whimpers out of her. Once he finished the fruit, he was almost disappointed to see it end so soon. But Amalia had a different plan in mind, and she reached for another peach, taking the knife out of his hands. Adamant to tease him just like he’d done to her, she rose to her knees and sat on her heels next to him. Because his clothes didn’t leave much of him to explore, she proceeded to sparsely undress him. The tie at his neck was quickly loosened and thrown to the side, and once she was done opening his waistcoat, he helped her slip it past his shoulders.
Left with only his shirt and trousers, he watched with unmasked delight as she opened the buttons to reveal what she could of his torso. She gave him a glance charged with want, before focusing her attention on the peach, to cut a slice from it. Just like he’d done with her, she ran the fruit on his skin, holding it in her mouth, and then shared half of it with him. As it went, the wet and tasty kisses they exchanged grew longer, needier. Every time she trailed her delicate tongue over his heated skin, cleaning the juice off of it, he found himself clenching his teeth, enduring it like some sweet torture.
The whole peach was eaten that way, and this time, when only the pit was left, Aiden had properly reached his limits. He grabbed the knife from her, and before he could think about it, he cut the upper ties that held the front of her dress.
“Aiden!” she protested, trying to stop him from his moment of madness.
He ignored her, starved for her, and with another quick swing of the knife, he got rid of the string holding her undershirt closed. Luckily for him, she wasn’t wearing a corset, which he’d insisted on. It gave her more freedom of movement, and he’d wanted her to be as comfortable as possible for her first riding lesson. With frenzied hands, he exposed her chest to his eyes, groaning at the vision she offered. She was lying on her back, her dress torn open by his barbaric ways, the perky tips of her breasts taunting him to the point of madness.
This time, when he took another peach, the last one they had, he didn’t bother putting a slice in his mouth. Instead, he fisted the piece over her heaving chest, squeezing it so the nectar would drip directly on the brown tips his mouth demanded to wrap around.
Another protest was coming his way, but whatever she was about to say died the instant his lips covered one of the peach-flavored nipple. She writhed under him as he feasted on her, licking, nibbling, and sucking, just like he knew she loved. Her delicate fingers tangled with his hair as she pressed him harder against him, releasing the softest plaints. While never stopping his ministrations, he took care of hiking up her skirts, eager to take this experiment to a whole new level.
Underneath her riding outfit, she was wearing a pair of trousers – also meant for her comfort – and if he wanted to remove them, he’d have to get rid of her boots. In need of his full capacities to assess the situation, he let go of her nipple, passing his greedy tongue over it one last time. He glared at her shoes, and the many laces on them, wondering what he could do to get her naked faster.
When he reached for the knife, she stopped him, taking the blade instead. “Don’t you dare, Aiden! I love these boots.”
A disapproving growl rolled in his chest, but he didn’t fight her on it. He’d already ruined her dress, and while he could give her his jacket for the ride home, she’d need her boots. With efficient moves and as fast as he could, he undid the laces of her boots, pulling on them like a madman to finally get them off. Her underpants were easier to take care of, and soon she was exposed to him entirely. The glistening folds of her cunt were frustratingly tempting in the intense light of the sun.
She was remarkably beautiful, the sexual parts of her exposed, her dress covering the rest of her. Something animalistic had taken over Aiden, and he loved to see the trust she had in him. His need for her was practically turning him into a maniac, but none of it seemed to concern her. She was just as eager to see this through, just as hungry as he was.
This time, she allowed him to take the knife again, and he grabbed the discarded, partially cut peach. With a generous slice, he traced a line up the inside of her leg, from her knee to the curls of her intimacy. He adored the way she quivered against the touch, and he could tell how much she wanted to press her knees together, her desire just as far gone as his. He licked the sticky path he’d drawn, sensing how the muscles under her smooth skin twitched, reveling in the whimpers she let out.
When he reached the end of the path, he pulled away, locking his eyes into hers over her trembling chest. He aligned his hand that was still holding the slice of peach right over her needy flesh and squeezed the juice out of it. She jolted when the first drops met her heated folds, but she never broke the contact of their eyes. Because of the way her skirts were bunched up at her waist, Aiden had to let go of her hypnotizing gaze to taste her.
As soon as his tongue met her glistening slit, she moaned his name, her hips bucking forward. Fuck, that was it… He’d never be able to eat a peach without getting a massive erection ever again. This was his new favorite flavor, one he’d want to taste over and over again. Amalia with a side of peach.
Intoxicated by her flavor, enchanted by her sighs of pleasure, he licked her clean until there were no traces of the fruit left. She was all he could perceive on his tongue now. It was tempting to cut another slice and to start over, but that meant he’d have to let go, and he wasn’t ready for that. Not until she’d shattered against his mouth.
Her fingers found their way back into his hair, and she clutched them tightly, inflicting a slight amount of pain on his scalp. As he took his sweet time, rolling his tongue around her aching clitoris, then lowering to push it into her quivering entrance, she undulated under him, desperately trying to bring his head where she needed him so much. But he resisted, because not only would she come harder that way, but he also loved it when she begged him, when she pleaded for his mercy.
The strain of his erection was becoming hard to bear, especially since his riding trousers were tighter than the ones he usually wore. His own need to find his release, to be deeply planted into her, was what pushed him to bring her to the climax she sought. He needed to be inside her, but he needed to orgasm all over his tongue before that.
His entire focus turned to the pulsing bud he’d purposefully ignored, and while he maintained a slight suction with his lips, he swept his tongue over it at an intense pace. Her enchanting moans soon turned into soft cries, interrupted by occasional hiccups, when he licked her harder. Her hips began to jolt underneath him, and her thighs slowly clamped around his skull. Anticipating her orgasm, he grabbed onto her seconds before she exploded.
She screamed his name, her fingers pulling on his hair painfully, her thighs holding him right there. Making her come like this was one of the things he preferred, because he loved knowing he had the power to make Amalia lose herself so much with only his mouth. His torturous ministrations never halted, bestowing waves of pure bliss upon her shaking, pleasure-consumed frame.
When the hold she had on his hair loosened, when the pressure of her thighs lessened, so did the brushes of his tongue. Leaving her pulsing clitoris, he lowered to lick off the wetness her orgasm had produced. He cleaned her of it all, enjoying how he could feel her entrance quiver around his tongue. The slick texture of her juices and their taste, which was so uniquely hers, had his cock pulsate in its confines. It demanded to be coated in them, to push itself into the welcoming silk of her satiated channel.
His animalistic grunt vibrated against her folds, and he pulled away entirely. He’d waited long enough, now he needed to enter her. His impatient fingers were clumsy, struggling to open his briefs. Especially since he wouldn’t rip his gaze from her, absolutely mesmerized by the erotic sight she offered. Fuck, had a woman ever been so enticing?
As soon as his shaft was freed, he positioned himself between her parted legs. She welcomed him with eagerness, wrapping her arms around his neck. While his aching cock took possession of her cunt, his mouth claimed hers.
“Aah, Aiden! Yes!” she moaned into their kiss, her heels pressing on his lower back, begging him to penetrate deeper into her.
How could this woman have so much power over him? He hadn’t planned for this outing to take such a turn. Truly, he’d intended for them to have a lovely picnic together, maybe lie there for a moment, and then head back to the manor. But as he was planted balls deep into her, he realized it might have been foolish of him. They had yet to prove that they could be alone together without things evolving into some intense fuckery.
Even being out there, with the sun shining, the birds chirping, and their horses nearby, they couldn’t stop themselves. Aiden wasn’t sure he’d want for them to be reasonable, anyway.
They were still making up for lost time, after all.
Okay, this one is so summer-y, I had to share it! It’s from Amalia’s favorite composer, and it has a guitar as the main instrument, which is quite rare. It’s light, fun, and playful. I feel like this is the kind of song one would enjoy eating a peach to. Concerto in D major, 1st movement “Allegro giusto”, by Antonio Lucio Vivaldi.
【48】Family Time
Concerto No 1 D Major: Larghetto, by Capel Bond (that surname, tho)
“Ah, yes, I see it,” Aiden let out with unmasked pride. “This is the tail, and these are the ears, and the front legs.”
“Exactly.”
They were sprawled against one another, in the middle of the aftermath of their improvised embrace. Thankfully, a few things from the picnic had been taken away before they’d started. But still, it was an utter mess.
She still couldn’t believe she’d been so comfortable having sex with him here. Out in the open, in the middle of the day. At least when they had their escapades into the lake, which only happened during the warmest nights, they had the darkness to cover them. But here, they’d been completely exposed.
It might be wicked of her to have allowed him, but when his mouth was on her, she couldn’t control anything. Her desire for him took over the rational part of her body, and she was ready to accept whatever he wanted, as long as he kept doing the sweet torments he inflicted on her.
While his eagerness had been quite intense at first, he’d actually taken her with slow languor, bringing her to a long and intense climax. Then he’d joined her into ecstasy a few minutes later, spilling his seed deep into her. After a moment to catch his breath, his solid weight on her, he’d rolled to the side with a groan, his gaze lost somewhere on the sky above them.
Since the upper part of her dress was ruined, she hadn’t even touched it, but out of modesty, she’d pushed her skirts further down her legs. Aiden had shoved his member back into his trousers, and he’d pulled her against his muscular form. With her head resting against his shoulder, she’d watched the sky with him, and the clouds that were passing over the infinite blueness.
The game, one they used to play in the past, had initiated itself, when she’d distinctively seen a frog-shaped cloud. So, for half an hour now, they’d been looking for familiar shapes.
Wriggling closer to him, Amalia made her way deeper into his embrace. Her heart was so full of love for the man, it was almost aching, as if there wasn’t enough room in her chest to contain it. Was it stupid of her to feel so lucky to be in love with her own husband?
Miss Belrose had told her in the past that love held no place in a marriage when it came to men like Aiden. Dukes weren’t expected to find a wife they loved, but rather a wife who matched their social status, and one who could bring them something, such as land or a significant fortune.
But Amalia didn’t fit these conditions. All she brought was their daughters, and hopefully, some happiness. Because she was happy. Ridiculously so. And she hoped with everything she had that Aiden was happy as well. Nothing about him suggested he wasn’t, so she decided to believe he was as delighted as she was with their marriage. She liked to think that the joy he brought her was shared.
Adding to the fact that she was irrevocably in love with him, she was also highly aware of how lucky she was. This man was patient, caring, gentle… And it was clear he valued her well-being immensely. With his perseverance, he had overcome her fear of riding. Thanks to him, she’d been able to come all the way here, to this beautiful clearing. She felt silly now for being so scared of it beforehand. While her horse was indeed tall, the mare’s calm temperament hadn’t made her feel endangered a single time.
“We should do this with the girls some time,” Amalia suggested.
“Hmm… I’m not doing all this with them around, love.”
“I meant the stroll on horseback and the picnic,” she answered, realizing too late that he was teasing her.
“Yes, we’ll take them with us next time. I’ve been told they are quite comfortable on a horse now, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Returning her attention to the sky, she searched for more forms. Was it her, or were there much more clouds? The sky was slowly darkening, but it was too early for it to be nightfall.
Aiden apparently noticed the change in the weather, too. “We should go back before the rain comes.”
He was right, of course, but she wasn’t ready to let go yet. When he made a gesture to get up, she tightened his hold on him, stubbornly refusing to let him get away. Her reluctance made him chuckle, and he looked down at her with something soft in his eyes.
“We can return to this once we get home. But I’d rather we didn’t catch our death, my love.”
It was the second time he called her like that, and just like the first time, her heart skipped a beat, right before hammering with intensity into her chest. He’d always called her ‘love’ and while she adored the endearment, it didn’t mean that much. But ‘my love’ was something else entirely, and she wondered if it was a conscious decision, or just a variation of the term he used so often.
She was confident about her feelings for him, certain that she loved Aiden with everything she had. Even more than she’d loved him in the past. But she was too proud to utter the words, worried they might not be reciprocated. His affection for her was obvious, and she didn’t doubt that he held potent feelings for her. But she didn’t know yet if he loved her as he used to, if he needed more time to reach that state, or if he would ever reach it.
But when he called her ‘my love’ it was too easy to believe that he did, in fact, love her in return.
Not trusting her tongue, she nodded instead and released him, allowing him to stand from their wrecked picnic. He adjusted himself in his trousers and took a moment to fasten the buttons at his crotch.
With the solid support of his hand, she was on her feet in a few seconds. Her skirts fell into place with the quiet ruffling of linen. As for her bodice, there wasn’t much to be done. She tried to do something about it, arranging the shirt underneath it, bringing the opening of her ruined dress together. But it wouldn’t really stay in place, and the crest between her breasts remained exposed.
“I’m sorry about that,” Aiden said. When she looked up at him, she found his eyes intently locked on her deep cleavage.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m really not,” he agreed with a chuckle. “There, take my jacket, it should cover you.”
“And what are we to tell people once we get home?”
“We don’t have to tell them anything. I’m a duke and you’re my duchess. They won’t ask anything, and they know what will happen to them if they do.”
“What will happen?” she worriedly asked.
“Let’s just say some chores are less pleasant than others, and none of the servants would be foolish enough to risk an entire year stuck doing them.”
“Well, it’s rather unfair, if you want my opinion. Anyone would feel the need to ask. I look like I’ve been attacked by a bear.” She looked down at her ripped bodice, shaking her head disapprovingly.
“A very libidinous bear, then,” he humored. She stared at him with an unamused expression, one of her delicate eyebrows reproachfully arched up. “What can I say? It was in the way, and I was in a hurry. Now, I’ll let you pack our things, while I saddle Horus and your horse.”
“Chavora.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, turning back to her.
“My horse, I want her to be named Chavora. It means companion , in my language.”
Her complete acceptance of the horse, this amazing gift he’d given her weeks ago, seemed to please him greatly. With a grin on his lips, he gave her a nod. “I’ll have her name engraved on a plate for her stall.”
While he took care of their mounts, Amalia distractedly gathered the leftovers of their picnics, organizing them into the leather bags. She was done before him, so she reached for her discarded underpants. It was a task harder than she’d thought, because of her heavy skirts coming in the way, but she managed to slip the garment on, fastening a few buttons just so it would stay in place.
Aiden was done with her horse and had moved on to his – an impressive black stallion, even taller than hers. By the time they were ready to go, with her boots on and both their horses equipped, the sky was much darker, and she worried they might not get to the manor before the rain poured. At least, his jacket was doing a good job of covering her, and she wouldn’t be too cold from it. Aiden, on the other hand, only had his shirt and waistcoat to protect him.
“Well, I venture you’ll have to learn how to trot on our way home,” he declared, settling the bags over Horus’s back.
“I’m not sure I can.”
“We’ll see. Come, let me pretend I’m my favorite inanimate object again – a stepladder – and help you up.”
She chuckled at his fit of humor and joined him by her mare. Just like they’d done in the stables at the manor, he helped her mount Chavora, his playful hands groping her more than what was necessary. This time, she settled on her saddle more easily, and she was glad to see some improvement in her technique already.
They didn’t make it home before the rain, but she was still proud to have handled their return so well. At some point, Aiden had gently pushed them into a trot, and even a moderate gallop. And she’d handled it superbly, only once did she almost fall off of her saddle.
After all, maybe she could become good enough to pass for an actual duchess. With enough motivation, there wasn’t really anything she couldn’t do. And with Aiden by her side to help her, she was certain it would all be relatively easy, even.
As agreed, they took the girls along on their next stroll around the estate. It was a shorter trip, but the spot Aiden had picked was charming as well. He’d insisted that the site of their scandalous picnic was to be their special place, so he refused to take others there. So instead, they had a lovely excursion near a river while the four horses grazed nearby. Thanks to Aiden’s brilliant idea, they had two insect nets with them, and the girls were running around, trying to catch dragonflies and other insects.
Amalia looked at her husband, sitting back on a tree, reading a book, and decided to join him. When he saw her arrive, he settled his book on the ground and she sat down in front of him, between his bent knees. With a delighted sigh, she rested her back on his chest. Circling her with his arms, Aiden intertwined their fingers before on her stomach, while they watched their daughters.
The girls had noticed that something was different. They knew things had changed, but they were still too young to understand.
“This morning, Maeve asked me why I wasn’t sleeping in my room anymore,” Amalia revealed.
“What did you tell her?”
“That it was too cold, and I wasn’t sleeping well.” She felt him chuckle behind her.
“You don’t get much sleep, but at least you cannot possibly be cold anymore.”
With a smile on her face, she rested her head on his shoulder again, listening to the surrounding sounds. He kissed her temple and flattened his hand on her lower abdomen.
During the night, her monthly bleeding had started, and she’d told him. The fact that she wasn’t pregnant yet had disheartened him. But she’d managed to make him see the brighter side of things, arguing they would have more time together, just the four of them.
“When can we tell them the truth?” Aiden asked, his attention back to the girls.
Amalia frowned, knowing where this conversation would lead. The twins were still calling him Aiden, and he didn’t want to press them into calling him daddy, papa, or father. But she knew it was hard on him. It was the only thing missing to make their family whole.
Otherwise, they treated him like a father for everything else. They relied on him as much as they did on Amalia, and some evenings, they even insisted for him to be the one telling them a story. She knew how badly he wanted for them to know he was their real father, but she was afraid they wouldn’t understand, nor get why it needed to remain a secret.
“Darling, I’m not sure,” she answered. “Maybe when they are around ten?”
“Does it sound right to you that our next children might call me Papa before they do?”
His frustration was obvious, and as much as she wanted to reason with him, she understood his position. “You don’t know that. They might call you that soon. They never had a father before, give them more time. It has only been three months.” Still not satisfied, he sourly mumbled something inaudible.
Had it been his decision to take, he would have told the world the truth, not fearing the repercussions. He was a duke after all, and his power was greater than a few gossips. Amalia took his hands and pressed a kiss on each palm. “I adore you,” she professed. “And I know they do too.” It seemed to soothe him a little.
Before Amalia could continue, Maeve, who had caught something, came to them excitedly, cupping what must have been a crawling creature in her hands. “Aiden, look!” she exclaimed, carefully opening her hands just in front of him. Aiden whistled, admirative, and Maeve giggled, before going back to her sister, completely ignoring Amalia.
Thrilled to be making her point, she turned her head to her husband. “You see, they even prefer you now.”
He smiled and kissed her, lingering for longer than was acceptable. When he finally let her go, he covered her with an amorous gaze. They settled comfortably again and watched from afar as the girls were comparing the content of their nets.
“Are you ready for dinner, Saturday?” Aiden asked, making her shiver. An earl who lived nearby had invited them for dinner, and Aiden had accepted.
Until now, he had been careful, not allowing anyone to come to the manor or declining invitations, in order to give everyone enough time to adjust. It would be her first public appearance as the Duchess of Leeds, and she was terrified she might make a mistake.
“According to Miss Belrose, I will never be ready,” Amalia sourly declared with a pout.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. It’s a small dinner with the earl’s family, us two, and a few guests. You will do great, and if you don’t, we will blame it on Spain.”
“Those bloody Spaniards and their mediocre standards…” Amalia humored, making him chuckle behind her.
Feeling slightly better, she relaxed in Aiden’s embrace, allowing herself to enjoy the rest of the afternoon without worrying about Saturday. As her husband had said, it would be alright.
The piece for this chapter is romantic and slow, and I find it a little hopeful, so it seemed to fit. Also, it’s from a composer we haven’t had yet! Concerto No 1 D Major: Larghetto, by Capel Bond.
【49】Just a Small Dinner
Sinfonia in D Major, “La Veneziana”: I. Allegro assai
Aiden worriedly looked around at the crowded ballroom, trying to find his wife.
The small dinner had turned out to be a ball, celebrating the end of the Season, and the opening of the earl’s hunting party.
Upon realizing the size of the event, Amalia had tried to convince him to get back home. Mercilessly, Aiden had forced her inside, promising her everything would be alright. Since she tried to negotiate, it was agreed they would make an appearance, introduce her to a few people, dance with him… And only then would he take her back home to celebrate the end of her menstruation.
The plan was perfect and had unfolded without an issue for a while. He had introduced her to a few of his peers, they’d danced together, and the mystery that posed the new Duchess of Leeds was on everyone’s lips. Now, however, he was ready for them to leave, but his wife was nowhere to be found.
Still in search of her, he explored the different rooms where guests were spread. As he entered the music parlor, he heard a burst of laughter from a small group of men. Turning toward the commotion, he found Amalia surrounded by four gentlemen, narrating an amusing anecdote. A disapproving frown stretched his brows, not liking how close to her those men were standing.
She was absolutely stunning tonight, with an ivory dress made of the finest silk. Her cleavage was more modest than the current fashion demanded, but it was plenty enough. Her hair had been arranged in a high bun, her luscious curls escaping from everywhere and bouncing around her head. She was wearing her small ruby necklace, which was too modest for a woman of her rank, but she refused to take it off. So, to make up for it, he’d offered her a pair of magnificent earrings and two assorted bracelets, all made of rubies.
It was no wonder she was the center of every man’s attention. Of all the ladies here, she was the most splendid one. And she was his. Pride took over him as he noticed how comfortable she was now, compared to when they had arrived. With a glass of champagne in her hand, she looked like she belonged with his peers, like everyone else in here. His fiery bohemian of a wife could turn into a socialite, just like he’s imagined. When she slightly lost her footing, Aiden wondered how many of those glasses of champagne she’d had.
One of the men bent to her ear and whispered something, making her laugh. Alright, that was enough. Aiden walked to the group, determined to find out whatever this was about. When he reached his wife, her face lightened as she gave him a beautiful smile.
“Your Grace!” she welcomed him. Not resisting the urge to touch her, he slid his hand around her waist and held her close to him. She was still staring at him, her head slightly tilted, her mouth inviting.
Displays of affection or intimacy were strongly frowned upon, but he saw an occasion to make those men understand the lady was married – and very happily so. Ignoring the surprise on her face, he bent to give her a short but intense kiss. Once he pulled back, he found her adorably blushing before she turned her attention back to the men.
“Your Grace,” said one of them. “When London heard you had chosen a foreigner over an English beauty, you can imagine how shocked everyone was. Now that you have finally introduced her to the world, I can assure you, a lot of us will travel to Spain looking for such a woman to marry.” His comment was received with laughs and nods from his friends, who all seemed to agree.
“I can assure you,” Aiden responded. “She is unique. You wouldn’t find another like her, even if you went all the way to China.” Amalia’s cheek turned pink with delight at the compliment. “Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I wish to dance with my wife.”
Not waiting for their replies, he guided her to the main room, where a swarm of dancers was elegantly gliding over the wooden floors.
“You see, love, your debut in this world is a complete success,” he whispered in her ear. “You are a natural.”
“The champagne certainly helped.”
With a low chuckle, he took his position, clutched his wife’s hand, and put his other one on the small of her back. He was glad to see the dance lessons had paid off. She was moving easily through the other dancers, following him, and keeping her frame straight. They danced until the song ended, and then he offered her another one. There was much to be enjoyed by this proximity. It had been four days since he last had her, and he was growing impatient. Tonight, the wait would end.
Possessively pressing closer, Aiden looked down at his lovely wife, finding her already staring back at him. The sight made him nearly groan. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were glassy, her pupils dilated, and her mouth was half-opened. It was certainly not the effort that was making her this flustered, since they had been dancing at a slow rhythm.
His gaze darkened upon understanding what it meant. She was aroused. Just like him, she was thinking about sex. The realization made him lose the little restraint he had left.
He let go of her waist but kept her hand in his. Impatiently, he pulled her behind him, ignoring the strange looks people gave them. His sparse knowledge of the house wouldn’t help him in his quest to find a room, but he figured they would have more luck upstairs. With that idea in mind, he dragged out of the room, into a corridor where a few guests were enjoying a quiet pause.
Amalia pulled on his hand with a giggle, knowing precisely what he had in mind.
“Aiden, we cannot!”
Of course they could. They certainly wouldn’t be the first nor the last ones to find a quiet place for a quick fuck during a party. His pace was determined, and he guided her upstairs, where there was no one in sight, and opened the first door they came across. It was a billiard room where four gentlemen were playing a game in the company of three ladies. Aiden shut it and moved further down the hallway. He randomly opened a few doors until he found one that led to a woman’s parlor. Amalia was unceremoniously pushed inside, and he shut the door behind them. There were no candles, but the light of the moon from the large window was enough. He grabbed his wife’s face and bent to kiss her hungrily.
“Aiden, no. Someone could come,” she argued with a shaky voice, turning her face away from him.
“Oh, someone is definitely going to come. Two people, if we’re lucky,” Aiden humored. Letting her go for an instant, he went to lock the door behind him. “Now we won’t be disturbed.”
“Aiden, let’s go. We can do this in the carriage,” she suggested as he claimed her lips again.
“That is a great idea.”
“I meant we do it ‘there instead’, not ‘also there’!” She whimpered when she understood he wouldn’t stop his seduction. Because he knew she was resisting purely for the form, he didn’t stop his seduction. Instead, he freed one of her nipples. “Please, someone could hear.”
“Then don’t make a sound.”
“You know I can’t!”
With an animalistic growl, he bent to take the brownish tip of her perky breast in his mouth. She gasped, a shiver coursing through her body, making her tremble in his arms.
As he kissed her again, savagely invading her mouth with his tongue, he hiked up her skirts and sent an impatient hand between her legs. The opening of her undergarment was easy to find, and he slipped his hand in it. When he found her soaking wet already, he smiled like a predator. She could object as much as she wanted. This part of her didn’t lie. And this part wanted him as much as he wanted her. Two fingers found their way inside of her tight wetness, and she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders.
With his digits pumping in and out of her, he nipped at her ear, knowing she was seconds from giving in. “Any complaints left?” he asked.
“Faster…” she begged with a panting breath. Triumphant, he complied and sped up his rhythm, adding a third finger. Her helpless cry was like music to his ears, and when she spread her legs wider so he had better access, his satisfaction peaked.
Maddened by desire, he ravished her lips and pushed her to a small desk behind her, never stopping the back and forth of his fingers. When her behind reached the edge of the desk, he removed his hand, ignoring her faint protest, and lifted her to sit her on it. Before he could take place between her parted thighs, she stopped him.
“Wait…” she said, pushing him away.
At first, he thought she would protest again, but he watched as she got down, turned around, and bent over the wooden surface. He only understood what she had in mind when she grabbed handfuls of her skirts to lift them. When it became clear she wanted to be taken from behind, a wide smirk grew on his face.
“You truly love this position, don’t you?” he teased her, pressing his erection against her ass. She nodded silently, and sent a hand on the wall in front of her, bracing for his amorous assault, her other hand still holding her skirts in place.
He didn’t move for an instant, wondering what he had ever done to deserve a woman like Amalia Romero.
Since he wasn’t taking any action, she grew impatient, mumbling something he couldn’t make out, pressing herself harder against him. Eager to comply, he opened his breeches with sudden moves, freeing his impatient cock. He found the opening of her undergarment, fisted the fabric, and tore it, splitting it all the way to the seam at her waist. He admired her delectable bottom through the ripped fabric and grabbed it with both hands, enjoying the malleableness, the smoothness of it.
She moaned, growing restless, and he decided it wasn’t the moment to be frolicking around. With his cock in hand, he positioned it at her entrance. He rubbed its head on her pink, silky folds, coating it with her wetness. Once she was writhing and begging him to take her, he took possession of her with a firm thrust, extracting a moan from both of them. Hungry and desperate, she pressed her behind harder on him, to feel him better, and he wasted no time mounting her.
He pounded into her with deep, relentless thrusts, impaling her over and over on his swollen flesh. Quickly, she was panting and moaning, too far gone into passion to mind about how loud she was. Bending over, he put his hand over hers on the wall and kissed her shoulder, her neck, never stopping the momentum of his hips.
Aiden was ecstatic. Never would he have imagined that marital life would suit him so well. His entire life, when he’d thought of sex with the woman he would marry, he had expected it to be dull, under the covers, in a bed at home. He hadn’t envisioned a lover, but the mother of his children, a proper lady.
However, now that he was experiencing conjugal life with Amalia, he felt blessed to have both the spouse and the mistress. He wouldn’t have imagined it possible to be having illicit sex with the mother of his children, with a hundred people a few rooms away. She was so sensual, so willing… He reveled in the knowledge that of all the women in this world, she was the one he was bound to spend the rest of his life with. She was his. Forever.
Maybe in twenty years, they would still isolate themselves during boring events, hike up her skirts, and fuck like this. For now, at least, she wanted it as much as he did.
She had objected a little, but it was out of principle, because her tutor had been relentlessly pushing her to become a proper lady. But Aiden didn’t want proper; not when it was just the two of them. To his great satisfaction, there was nothing proper about her right now. She was under him, her head tilted to the side to give his mouth as much access as possible to her delectable skin, her lips half-opened, letting out sensual sighs and moans. With her hand on the wall, she pressed back on each of his thrusts, wanting to feel him as deeply as possible.
By now, he knew her well enough to sense she was quickly reaching her climax. But alas, he was closer to his release than she was hers. Only a few seconds remained before his release. She was too tight, too warm, and the spontaneous throbs of her walls were too much for him.
Sending his free hand between her legs, where their bodies were joined, he touched her exactly where she needed him, rolling her swollen bundle of nerves under his index finger.
It was as if he had pushed a magic button. She screamed his name once, twice, and her walls clenched rhythmically around him as her entire body tensed, trembled, and melted under him. He quickened the pace, the slapping of their bodies resonating in the room. Soon, it was his turn to come, her insides milking him to the very last drop. He felt every pulse, his teeth clenched as he endlessly poured his seed inside of her.
Everything was so intense and raw, it took a while for his heart to get back to a reasonable pace. With one last kiss on her shoulder, enjoying the saltiness of her skin, he moved out of her warmth and pulled away to button up his pants.
Still prone to a few waves of ecstasy, she remained bent over the desk for a moment, and he admired the view of her glistening intimacy, enjoying the sight of his cum slowly seeping out of her. Once he was done adjusting his breeches, she clumsily straightened up, her frame limp, slightly trembling, and her skirts fell back in place. With expert moves, she took care of her cleavage and touched her hair to see if everything was still in place.
Very satisfied, she gave him a complicit look, her eyes sparkling with happiness despite her apparent tiredness. When she came to kiss him tenderly, he welcomed her gladly into his embrace. They remained like this for a moment, delaying their return to the others.
Because they still had a two hours long carriage ride before they could be at home, he found the courage to make them leave the room.
Even though the evening hadn’t unfolded as he’d expected, he couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. And the night was still young. He was certain that once at home and on their way there, they would find more ways to make it even more spectacular.
“We have arrived, darling,” Aiden spoke tenderly, waking Amalia from her slumber.
Disoriented, she opened her eyes, trying to understand what was happening. She was in a carriage, her head resting on Aiden’s shoulder. They had been to a ball, and now they were back home.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“About two minutes after we got in, yes.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I had planned on ravishing you,” she explained, disappointed. With a genuine laugh, he bent to kiss her hair while she stretched her limbs, sore from sleep.
“We’re home. You can ravish me in our bed.”
This new plan suited Amalia, who got out first with Aiden’s assistance. She took the arm he offered once he was out as well, and they walked to the door. It was quite late, but Appleton was waiting for them in the entrance hall. After much deliberation, Aiden had decided to keep him in the household, and Amalia had noted that her relationship with the butler had significantly improved. He wasn’t looking at her with as much self-sufficiency as he used to.
“Your Grace,” said the servant, addressing her, “you had a visitor tonight. We told him you were out, but he insisted on seeing you. He waited for three hours before leaving. He said he would be back tomorrow, before lunch.”
Amalia exchanged a confused look with her husband, wondering what this could be about. It seemed extremely peculiar. They rarely had unannounced visitors in the country, especially one calling on Amalia, at such hours, expecting to be received.
“Did he leave a card?”
“I’m afraid he didn’t, your Grace. He didn’t leave a name either, but he said you would receive him anyhow.”
Amalia frowned. The whole thing seemed odd, almost worrisome. Who on earth came by a duke’s manor, uninvited, expecting to be welcomed regardless?
“Why is that?” Aiden asked, more and more intrigued – just like her.
“Well, he said that after all… he was Milady’s brother.”
This one is kinda joyful, and I think it embodies opulence and parties pretty well, so here comes a light and mellifluous (it’s an actual word, wtf) song: Sinfonia in D Major, “La Veneziana”: I. Allegro assai .
【50】Phal
Concerto V en Re Menor para Cuerdas y B.C.: Largo, by Charles Avison, after Scarlatti’s work.
Dread. Pure dread invaded Amalia, chilling her to the bone.
The letter.
She’d completely forgotten about the letter she’d sent.
Things were so perfect with Aiden, she could hardly believe that at some point, she’d be better off with her abusive brothers than with him. How could she have been so stupid? She had panicked, made a rash decision. And now, her impulsiveness might cost her everything.
Panicked, she clenched Aiden’s arm, wondering if it could be true. Her heart pounded fast inside of her chest at the prospect it could be. What if one of her brothers was really here? If they knew of her situation, they could use it to their advantage. Neither Paul nor Sebastian would hesitate to gain something out of this. What would they do to them? To her or Aiden? And what about the girls? Were they even safe?
Her breathing grew short, shallow, and her head started to spin. She was having a panic attack. Had one of her brothers really found her? Which one? And how was it possible that her letter had reached someone so fast?
It had only been three months. Her brother could be anywhere in Europe, from here to Italy. It made no sense that her letter would find its recipient so hastily. Her cry for help could have taken years to reach one of them. And someone was supposedly here already, in less than a hundred days?
Aiden sensed her distress and dismissed the butler with a vague hand gesture. He wrapped his powerful arms around her, in an attempt to comfort her with a warm hug. But it didn’t help. On the contrary.
She needed to tell him, didn’t she? He needed to know she’d sent the letter, so he’d be prepared for it. But what if he took it as another betrayal? Just like six years ago, she’d ruined everything. Her family would damage them terribly, tear the happy and solid family they’d built. The idea of Aiden loathing her for it was too much for her to handle. If he pulled away from her, deciding he’d had enough of her messing up everything, it would slowly kill her.
Her life was the best it could ever be. She loved him so much, the girls were so happy, and everything had been so smooth for the past few weeks…
This wasn’t happening. Not Now. Everything was going so well, it couldn’t be possible. She refused to believe that her luck was so terrible that one of her brothers was already here, about to sweep the rug from under her feet. Their feet. Maybe it was a mistake, some sort of misunderstanding. It could be a stranger pulling a prank on them. The visitor didn’t have to be Paul or Sebastian; it was maybe just some poorly timed joke.
Seeing her condition wasn’t improving, Aiden led her upstairs. She barely paid attention to their walk to his room, her mind clogged with worries and remorse. When they reached the safe confines of the bedroom, he framed her head between his hands, compelling her to look at him.
“Calm down. Take deep breaths. It is all right, Ama,” he soothed her. His blue eyes were soft, compassionate, and it broke her heart to think she’d betrayed him once again. “It may very well be someone playing a joke on us.”
“But what if it is Paul or Sebastian?”
“I hardly see how they could have found out. But if it’s one of them, we will see why he is here, and we will act accordingly. There is nothing that cannot be solved, love.”
This wasn’t helping. Not only did Aiden not know her involvement in this, he also didn’t know them like she did. Her brothers were merciless. If one of them had truly found out the truth, they could ask for anything. Their greed knew no bounds, and they wouldn’t stop until they’d gotten whatever they wanted.
Her husband was apparently confident about this, so she refused to lay her worries on him. It might not be one of her brothers, and Aiden seemed certain the matter could be solved even if it was. It was useless that both of them would worry, so she kept her mouth shut, pretending his attempt at reassuring her had worked. Without another word, she went to her dressing room, where her maid was waiting. Once she was undressed, the maid undid her hair, braiding it for the night. Then, Amalia did a quick toilette before slipping on her nightgown.
When she came back to the room, Aiden was already in bed, busy with a few letters from tenants. He put them down when he saw her, and she joined him under the covers. Her mind was still taken by the possibility of seeing one of her brothers tomorrow, and she hugged Aiden, needing him to comfort her.
Holding her in his familiar arms, he talked to her in a calm tone. With her cheek on his chest, an arm and a leg over him, she listened to his soothing voice. Everything would be fine, he insisted. No matter who would visit them tomorrow, nothing bad would happen. They didn’t move for a long time, until Amalia finally fell asleep, slightly reassured by her husband’s confidence.
When she woke up, it was quite late in the morning. Aiden had already left the bed, and his half of the mattress was cold when she ran a hand over it. After ringing for her maid, she went to prepare her outfit for the day. Because she wanted to look important, she chose one of her most beautiful dresses, a light blue one embroidered with tiny yellow birds. She also picked assorted jewels, and when the maid arrived, she asked her for an elaborate hairdo.
She didn’t have a battle armor, or else she would have worn it. But she wanted to show her brother that she mattered now, and she wasn’t to be meddled with.
The twins had already eaten their breakfast and were having their morning lessons, so Amalia went to greet them with hugs and kisses. Once she left them, a footman informed her that the duke was in his study. Although she was still feeling guilty for the letter and for not telling him about it, she decided to join him. When she entered, he welcomed her with a grin from behind his desk. The sight of him always brought her joy, and she went to give him a good morning kiss.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
“I was waiting for you. Did you sleep well?”
“Not really. I kept wondering which brother it was, and what might he ask from us.” Aiden took her by the hips and made her sit on his lap. With her arms hooked around his neck, she turned towards her husband.
“We will handle this together. There is nothing he can do to us that cannot be negotiated. If I know anything about your brothers, it will be about money. And we have some of that,” Aiden declared. Amalia nodded. It was almost certainly about extracting money from them.
Amalia kissed him tenderly, happy to have this formidable man by her side. They would deal with this together, and everything would be fine again. When his stomach grumbled, she rose from his lap, and with her hand in his, she made him follow her to the breakfast room.
They both had little appetite and barely touched anything. Aiden usually ate a lot, especially in the morning, and she worried he might not be as confident as he wanted her to believe.
Because they both needed a distraction, they decided to spend the rest of the morning with the twins, who were thrilled to be released from their reading lessons.
All four of them settled in the family parlor to play board games. Aiden was regularly checking the time, and Amalia looked out the window now and then. She wasn’t certain if they would hear their visitor arrive, but she kept her attention on the sounds coming from the opened windows, just in case. They were playing another round of checkers, Amalia was helping Ailia and Aiden was helping Maeve, when finally they heard a knock. Amalia’s pulse quickened, a heavy ball of worry forming in her stomach.
“Your Graces, he has arrived,” Appleton announced.
“Have him wait for us in the yellow parlor,” Aiden answered.
Appleton offered him a dry nod and left them, closing the door behind him. To Amalia’s incomprehension, Aiden insisted on finishing the game. Then she understood it was better not to show how concerned they were by this surprise visit. This was a power move, meant to show whoever was in the yellow parlor that they meant nothing. It was hard to focus on the game, but rapidly, she and Ailia won.
After ordering the nanny to send the girls to their room, Aiden took Amalia’s hand to lead her out. It was time for them to meet their unwanted visitor. When they reached the yellow parlor, her husband turned to her.
“We will be alright,” he told her before kissing her delicately.
The adoration she read in his eyes when he pulled away undid her. He was so trusting, so good with her, it made her feel terrible for her omission. Just in case it was indeed one of her brothers in there, he needed to know about the letter. She should have told him about it weeks ago, because his life was in jeopardy as well.
“Aiden, there is something I need to tell you.”
“It will be fine, my love.”
“No, please. When you found me in—”
Before she could explain it all and hopefully make him understand, the door next to them flung open. Startled, she jumped out of Aiden’s grasp, turning to the man who’d opened the panel in the same motion.
Sebastian.
It had been four years since she had last seen him, when she’d left her family in Spain, to join her aunt in France. He looked rougher than she remembered. He had a nasty scar on the right side of his jaw, his face was marked by alcohol, and his expression was cruel. What must have happened to him in those four years for Sebastian to look so different? She could barely recognize him anymore.
“ Little sister! “ he said with a fainted enthusiasm. “ It’s great to see you again after so long! “ He was speaking in Romani, but the language somehow seemed foreign to Amalia’s ears.
Her brother moved to the side, and with a gesture of his arm, he invited Aiden and her inside, as if he was the master of this manor and not them. She was petrified, frozen where she stood, and even when Aiden’s hand gently pushed on her lower back, she didn’t step forward. This was really happening. Until now, a part of her had believed this wasn’t real, that her brother couldn’t be here. But he was. It was terribly real, and she was the one who’d done it.
She looked up at Aiden’s marvelous eyes, and she begged him for forgiveness with hers. He must have misunderstood what she was trying to pass onto their silent exchange, because he bent toward her.
“Come on, love. Trust me, it’ll be fine.” Even his soothing tone wasn’t enough to help her nerves.
This time, he pushed harder against her back, and she was forced to enter the room, where her brother was patiently waiting for them. There was something confident and callous in his stare, and it worried her.
“ What has it been? Four years? Five? How are the girls? “ he asked, still speaking in the language of their people.
At the mention of Ailia and Maeve, some combativity spread into Amalia’s mind. She wouldn’t let this man ruin the lives of her daughters. “ Don’t act like you care, Sebastian. “
“ What, can’t an uncle be preoccupied with the wellbeing of his favorite nieces? “
It was tempting to solve it all in Romani, because then, maybe Aiden would never hear about the letter. But it felt wrong to exclude him, given that he was just as concerned as she was. So, swallowing the knot in her throat, she spoke the rest in English. “Sebastian, what are you doing here?”
Her brother smiled, and she couldn’t help but notice that even his grin looked vicious. “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here, phen .”
As if he held all the cards in his hands, he sat down on a couch with confidence before inviting them to join him. Uncomfortable, Aiden and Amalia took place in front of him.
“You are even worse than I thought, Ama. How much of a spoiled brat would you need to be to ask to be freed of this?” Sebastian asked, gesturing to the luxurious room around them. “Even this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you?”
Her heart was beating so hard into her chest, she could feel it down her throat. Full of concerns, she turned to Aiden. His face was easy to read as he stared at her brother with unmasked confusion. Oh, God… She should have told him. As soon as she’d heard one of her brothers might be here, she should have told him everything. But it was too late for that now.
Sebastian, who was examining a glass sculpture that was on the table in front of him, spoke again. “You were a little dramatic, weren’t you? When I first read your letter, I almost expected to find you chained into a cave or something.”
There it was. At the mention of the letter, Amalia turned to her husband again, fighting the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. Aiden’s frown deepened, and he then turned to her with a hundred questions in his eyes. The disappointment and turmoil she read in his blue irises shattered her heart. To her surprise, he said nothing and quickly regained his composure instead.
“To be honest, I originally decided not to come. I wasn’t very far, but I figured that whatever ordeal you were into, you probably deserved it.”
“What made you change your mind?” Aiden asked, and the coldness of his tone chilled Amalia to the bone.
“Well, I asked the man who’d given me the letter for more details, and he told me this riveting story. Apparently, my beloved sister and nieces had been taken into a luxurious coach, never to be seen again. That intrigued me. But then, when he told me about the coat of arms drawn on the carriage, I was properly hooked. An eagle and a lion? I knew this all too well, because I still have a silver spoon engraved with it, from when we raided this place.”
Sebastian was acting so smugly, so sure of himself, it was repulsive. Amalia had never loathed him in the past, mostly pitying him or being angry at him. But at that moment, the hatred she felt for her brother was stronger than anything she’s ever experienced.
“So, I knew it was your family’s carriage, Gadjie ,” he continued, boldly staring at Aiden. “Because I like to be well-prepared, I gathered pieces of information about the Duke of Leeds, trying to understand what could have possibly happened. Can you imagine my surprise when I heard that the man had recently married a Spanish Lady, and taken her two daughters under his protection?”
Sebastian paused and laid back on his couch. He was enjoying this moment greatly. He looked contemptuous, victorious. “Really, Ama? A Marquesa? You’re not worth more than the whores I fuck for a few pennies,” he mocked.
Amalia felt Aiden tense next to her, his fisted hands clenched into a tight fist, ready to make Sebastian swallow back his words. Despite everything, he was still ready to defend her, and this simple proof of his affection was enough to reassure her slightly. Refusing to let all this go south, she laid a calming hand on his arm. Not intimidated, her brother continued.
“So with everything I knew, it was easy to guess why a duke – who could have any woman he desires – would marry my worthless little sister. Contrary to what we were told, the father of my precious nieces was never a footman, but the duke himself. Or the son of the duke, back then.” Jubilant with satisfaction, he looked at them alternatively. “Good catch Ama! Getting impregnated by this man was brilliant!”
This time, Aiden got up and took a step forward, ready to remove that cocky smile from her brother’s face. She stopped him, grabbing his jacket firmly, and stood in front of her despicable brother.
“What do you want from us?” she practically growled.
“Don’t be like that, phen . I’m only here to save you from your terrible fate, as you’ve asked in the letter.”
“I don’t need to be saved,” she countered, knowing it was pointless. Sebastian already knew this. He’d already figured out that the situation had changed.
“Are you sure, Ama? Can you imagine the scandal if it was known that the duke didn’t marry an honorable and widowed Marquesa, but the mother of his bastard daughters? A bohemian whore, nonetheless?” Sebastian leaned forward and turned to Aiden. “If you give me the means, brother-in-law, I can make sure the word never comes out.”
There it was. Money .
“How much ‘means’ do you need, exactly?” asked Aiden, sardonic.
“Before I arrived, I had settled on two thousand pounds. But now that I have seen your house and how much you care for your wife, I will say ten thousand.”
Amalia stared at her brother in shock. It was a ridiculous amount of money. No one sane of mind would ever agree on it. “You are asking for way too much. This is absurd!”
“I have responsibilities now, little sister. I have a family to feed, now. Do you remember Marianne, your dear childhood friend? I married her, and we have a son. She is with child again. “
Amalia’s heart broke for her old friend. Marianne was so sweet and gentle… She was certain Sebastian was none of those things to her. Knowing that she had ended up with this brute pained her. The poor woman would be better off without him.
“We could denounce you, and have you deported back to the continent,” Amalia countered.
“How many times do you think the truth about this situation can be told before I even reach a boat?”
“We can make sure you aren’t at capacity to talk then. You cannot say much if you have no tongue left.”
“You insult me, Phen . I can still write, still contact the news. I venture I’d make good money with that information.”
Amalia frowned, racking her brain for another solution. This couldn’t be it. Her brother couldn’t win, he couldn’t get out of this with ten thousand pounds.
“I don’t have that kind of money on hand,” Aiden declared, apparently done with Amalia’s attempt at salvaging this. “I have to make arrangements, and have it come from London. It will take at least a week.”
He wasn’t even trying to negotiate. Even though he was so eager to have the world know that the girls were his, he was willing to pay ten thousand pounds to keep the secret intact. This meant he was doing it for her, because he couldn’t care less.
Dismayed, Amalia glanced at her husband. He ignored her, purposefully keeping his eyes on her brother. In an attempt to get his attention, she grazed his arm. When he moved away from her touch with a subtle gesture, her heart dropped into her chest.
“It is all good, brother-in-law,” Sebastian said with a cocky grin. “For that sum, I can wait a fortnight.”
Amalia tried to figure out what was happening in Aiden’s mind, but his face remained of marble, impossible to read.
When their eyes crossed, the coldness of his gaze worried her. No, they couldn’t let this ruin what they had. But this whole situation, the letter, her wretched family, her refusal for the world to know the truth about Ailia and Maeve’s father, could undermine their marriage.
Her only hope now was that he’d understand. That he’d see why she’d asked for her brothers to come to her aid. Of course, she didn’t want to be ripped away from him anymore, but the result was still the same.
Their whole family was in danger of being exposed, of enduring her brother’s blackmail for years…
And it was all her fault.
Oooooh, D R A M A. Y’all must know how much I like drama by now. (I secretly feed off of it)
This next song I absolutely love. The composer is very poorly known, which is a shame. He was more of a scholar and based his pieces on existing works by other composers, like Scarlatti or Rameau, Geminiani… which I think we’ve had in the book. His work is known to be very tuneful, because the melody was very important to him. Concerto V en Re Menor para Cuerdas y B.C.: Largo, by Charles Avison
, after Scarlatti’s work
.
【51】Estrangement
Symphony No. 45 in F-Sharp Minor, Hob. I:45, “Farewell”: I. Allegro assai, by Franz Joseph Haydn
“What the fuck was that about, Amalia?!” Aiden exploded as soon as they were alone in his study. Despite how much he tried to contain his rage, he couldn’t completely hide the resentment he felt.
His tone surprised her, and she took a careful step away from him. “Aiden, please. I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes were glistening with tears, but as much as it pained him to see it, he refused to let it soften him. What she had done could compromise everything they had built. The impunity with which Sebastian had asked for the money was still sitting wrong with Aiden; his blood was still boiling with rage. She had brought him upon them. She had opened the door to the danger he posed.
“Why would you send a letter to that bastard?”
“It was before . It was before everything. I sent it back in Bristol, after you found me, before you came to get me and the girls. I was so worried, Aiden. You— you scared me to death, and I panicked. I thought you would hurt me or the girls. I couldn’t think of what else I could do.”
Did she have so little faith in him she imagined he could ever lay a hand on her or the girls? What kind of man did she think he was?
“Don’t you know I would never hurt you, Amalia?”
“That’s not what you said back then. You spoke of throwing me in an asylum, to have me hanging, to have me locked in a prison cell. I didn’t have a choice, Aiden.”
Her words resonated within him, and he forced himself to take a moment to analyze the situation. He could still remember the rage he’d felt upon finding her all these months ago. Admittedly, he’d made some nasty threats back then. And while he might have meant them at the time, he, of course, would never have acted upon them.
But she hadn’t known that. After so many years apart, it made sense that she’d hesitate and be unsure about the man he’d become. After the way he’d behaved by the stream, he couldn’t really blame her for seeking help in whatever way she could.
As he was thrown back to their problematic reunion, Aiden realized just how much he’d forced her the entire time. First with threats, and then with a marriage she couldn’t escape.
“Do you want this life?” he asked her, ashamed that it was the first time he was truly asking for her agreement.
His question left her perplexed at first. But when she understood he meant this, with him, she nodded vehemently. “Yes, I do. I want this so much, darling. I love this place, I love watching the girls bloom, I love being with you, I love our routine… Aiden, I love—” She hesitated, her pleading eyes scanning his intently. “I love everything about my life with you. The woman I was three months ago is completely gone. I never want to leave you.”
The sincerity in her voice was undeniable, and it was clear that the letter she’d sent was a mistake she sourly regretted.
“You should have told me about it earlier,” he pointed out. “Maybe I could have done something about it. Maybe all of this would have been preventable if I’d known.”
“I know, and I can’t apologize enough for keeping you in the dark. For the first few weeks, I kept hoping the letter would reach one of them, because I didn’t trust you with my safety. But then things evolved, and I started hoping it would get lost somewhere, and that no one would ever read it. But things were so fragile between us, I didn’t want to make them worse by telling you the truth. And then, it all shifted so fast, and it completely slipped my mind.”
Tears were steadily flowing down her reddened cheeks, her guilt so strong it was almost palpable.
He wanted to forgive her. More than anything, he wished he could brush it all off and accept all of it like an honest mistake. But the fact remained that her actions had put their daughters, their family, into a very precarious situation.
Had he known, maybe he could have been able to intercept the letter. Maybe none of this would have happened if she’d been truthful with him and had trusted that he’d take care of her, or at the very least of his own daughters.
Instead, he was stuck in a position he despised, forced to bend to the will of the poor excuse of a man that was her brother.
As he looked down at her, at the wet path of her tears on her cheeks, and the pinkness of her nose and cheekbones, he almost gave in. His arms were itching to wrap around her, his lips wanted to kiss her forehead, and his heart wanted to hold her against his chest. But he held back, unable to see past this betrayal. She hadn’t trusted him, and now they would all pay the price for it.
The tense silence that had settled between them was broken by someone who knocked on the door. “Come in,” he ordered.
The wooden panel opened, revealing a footman. “Your Graces, lunch is ready to be served.”
“I don’t have an appetite,” Aiden declared, moving to sit in the chair behind his desk instead.
“Me neither,” Amalia said.
“You should go so the girls aren’t alone.”
His suggestion sounded more like an order, and after a slight hesitation, she docilely nodded.
Once he was alone, Aiden leaned back in his seat, his eyes lost somewhere on the solid oak of his desk.
He would have the ten thousand pounds ready for Sebastian, but they needed a better plan. There were no limits to blackmailing, and nothing ensured Sebastian wouldn’t come back, over and over again, every time he needed money. Aiden wasn’t a man to accept such humiliation easily.
He successfully avoided his wife for the rest of the day, remaining locked in his study. During the afternoon, since Amalia was burdened with her lessons, he’d spent some time with the twins, enjoying a fake tea party with them in their playroom. As he sat with his precious girls, he promised himself he’d do everything he could to protect them from their despicable uncle.
If he was so furious, it wasn’t so much as the money they would lose, it would barely make a dent in his fortune, but it was the impunity with which the man had extorted it.
Blackmail was a complicated situation that could last decades, and he was perfectly aware this was only the beginning. How long before Sebastian came back and asked for more? Men like him were shameless and unpredictable. He would undoubtedly extort more money from them. The kind of secret he was using against them could even be passed down for generations.
If the truth came out, they would handle the backlash and be done with it. To him, it was clear that the matter could have been easily settled. They should have sent him back on his way, and to hell with the consequences. There was nothing he couldn’t fight off. And he knew how it worked. A scandal would come out, it would make the newspapers, people gossipped, and it slowly died until another scandal erupted, erasing it entirely from people’s memories.
Admittedly, their lives might be harder than he was comfortable with. Even as a duke, he wasn’t certain he’d manage to shelter them from all the terrible rumors they might be subjected to. And not only them, but any other child he and Amalia might have would also suffer from the terrible reality of their blood. It didn’t matter if his lineage was as blue as the kings and queens of this country. Being half bohemian might overrule his impeccable bloodline, and his children would suffer from it.
But he longed for the world to know they were his. If the price to pay was a lifetime of struggle, he might very well take the deal. Having to be a surrogate father to his own daughters was humiliating.
His heart wanted to send Sebastian on his way, but his brain had decided to comply with the man’s demands. In all truth, he was doing it in large part for Amalia. She had demanded to have a say in their daughters’ education, and he was trying to respect that, to honor their agreement. He was almost certain to have made the right decision, but still, his pride was wounded.
He remained in his study until his eyes were too tired to even read and then headed to his chambers. He entered through the small sitting room adjacent to his bedroom and then accessed his water closet. Once he was undressed and had cleaned some essential parts of his body, he entered his room.
The shape tucked into his bed, so deep under the covers only her black hair was visible, made his heart tighten in his chest.
They had been sleeping together for weeks now. He actually looked forward to going to bed with his wife, so he could make love to her, hold her tenderly afterward, and talk with her. Starting the day waking up next to her was something he adored, and he enjoyed it when she was the first thing he saw in the morning, and when her soft and sleepy voice was the first thing he heard.
But tonight, he didn’t want to share a bed with her. The tension between them was far from gone, and holding her when he was still crossed wasn’t right.
Holding back a groan, he headed toward her, wondering what he should do about it. The manor was large enough for him to pick another room and make it his for the night. But he didn’t need a gossiping household to add to their precarious situation. If she was fast asleep, maybe he could carry Amalia into her room and tuck her in her own bed.
When he got closer, he got a glimpse of her face, and her expression wasn’t as peaceful as it usually was when she slept. It made sense when she opened her eyes to peek at him, and he realized she’d either been trying to sleep or faking it.
“I think it would be better if you slept in your own bed tonight,” he declared, hating how uncertain his voice sounded.
The pain his words inflicted was all over her face, and he almost regretted saying them. But he masked his distress, remembering how terrible this situation was. She’d endangered everything, and he needed to be firm in the repercussions, to ensure she wouldn’t do such a thing again in the future.
She lifted herself up, revealing more of her from under the cover. Once she was sitting on the mattress, she sighed and turned to him with pleading eyes.
“Aiden… You can’t keep blaming me for sending that letter. You didn’t leave me a choi—”
“I understand and accept why you sent it. This isn’t the problem at hand, Ama. The problem is you never told me about it. You didn’t trust me enough, and now you’ve put our whole life in the balance. You’ve jeopardized the happiness of our daughters, and put our marriage at risk.”
His arguments seemed to work on her, and her expression twisted into keen remorse.
“I was scared you would push me away. I was scared this letter would be like another betrayal, that you would decide I wasn’t worth it.”
“And as legitimate as your worries might have been, you should have put the wellbeing of our family, of our daughters, before yours,” he reminded her, administering the final blow.
She had nothing to answer to that, and after a moment of hesitation, she slipped out of the covers. She offered him one last gaze full of silent apology and obeyed his wish. He watched as she walked to the door that separated their room, her white nightgown reaching down to her knees. Standing in the doorway, she uttered a few words he couldn’t make out, before disappearing into her room.
Aiden was torn. Terribly so.
As he watched his empty bed, he wondered if he hadn’t been too harsh with her. He wanted nothing more than to rush into her room and comfort her, hold her into his arms, and whisper words of eternal love and devotion into her ears.
Because yes, he was in love with her. More than he’d ever been in the past. He loved her for everything she was, with everything he had. He’d known it for a while now, having recognized the powerful emotion from when he’d first fell for her years ago.
But as much as he loved her and wanted to be with her, he was still embittered by her lack of trust in him.
With a conflicted curse, Aiden made his way into his bed, highly aware of the warmth she’d left behind her. As he stared at the ceiling above him, he ran his hand over the portion of the mattress she’d been on, wishing he’d been more forgiving.
Right now, he wanted her, just as much as he needed her to be away from him.
A week. He’d give his resentment a week – until the Sebastian matter was settled – and then he’d forgive her.
A pair of plump lips pulled him out of his slumber, leaving him disoriented and confused. The familiar mouth was drawing a line of pecks along his jaw and down his neck. An irrepressible groan vibrated in his throat, right against the mouth, when it reached his Adam’s apple.
Why was this happening? Had he slipped into another dream, or was this reality? Just in case it was a dream, Aiden decided he wouldn’t open his eyes, so it could keep unfolding.
For four days now, he’d been sleeping alone. It made no sense that his wife would be here with him when they hadn’t solved any of their issues yet.
Her soft shape was plastered against him, and while he was wearing a pair of breeches, it was clear she was utterly naked under the covers. Another groan rolled in his chest when the tip of her tongue ran along his collarbone. With a delicate hand, she was grazing his stomach, going lower and lower, her fingers heading for his hardening prick.
“Are you up, darling?” she whispered into his ear before nibbling at the lobe.
God, how he’d missed her. He’d missed her scent, her softness, her voice…
Her hand eventually reached the loose waistband of the only garment he was wearing. But she didn’t let it stop her. Boldly, she pushed underneath, and her fingers quickly reached his cock, wrapping themselves around it.
“Hmm… Yes you are,” she then murmured with appreciation.
As she stroked him with dexterity, Aiden wondered why they hadn’t done any of this for four days. That stupid feud going on between them wasn’t worth being deprived of her touch, of her sensual body, of their amorous embraces…
He finally forced his eyelids open and drowned into her darkest of eyes. It was the middle of the night, but there was a candle on the nightstand on her side – one she must have brought from her own room.
She was so temptingly gorgeous, with her lush lips right there, one stretch of his neck away from his. He didn’t even try to resist their call, lifting himself to take possession of her mouth. She answered his kiss with docility, letting him ravage her with all the need he felt for her.
Her hand was still working him into a glorious erection, and he sensed a few drops of precum escape its tip before he was even fully hard. This beautiful witch would truly be his doom, wouldn’t she?
Their passionate embrace evolved, and he ended up over her, between her spread thighs. She was soft and pliant under him, and the docility she was showing was hard to miss. Between the fact that he’d just woken up, and the way passion was taking over, his mind was clogged, almost dazed. It took him much longer than it should have to realize something was wrong.
Amalia’s attitude didn’t feel right. Her submission was wrong, unnatural. The woman under him wasn’t the strong-headed force of nature he’d married, not the spitfire he’d fallen in love with.
He interrupted their kiss, ripping his lips away from hers. With her hands framing his face, she tried to force him down again, her eyes pleading.
“Please, Aiden. I’ll do anything you want…” she begged. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be – the perfect duchess, the perfect wife… I’ll obey you, follow your command… Just please, forgive me.”
Aiden hated this with burning intensity. This was what he’d pushed her to? To beg for his affection? To be ready to abandon who she was at her core so he’d forgive her? Reduced to the baseness of buying his forgiveness with her body? The mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach. It all felt so outrageously wrong.
He moved away from her, extracting himself from the welcoming space between her spread thighs.
If only she’d told him about the bloody letter earlier, they wouldn’t be in this situation. With his back to her, he sat on the edge of the bed, with his elbows on his knees, his head lowered in his hands. He didn’t know what to do anymore.
Until Sebastian was gone, until he was sure his family was safe again, he couldn’t forgive what she’d done. What if everything was ruined? What if her secrecy led to their entire life being torn apart forever?
Amalia sobbed behind him, and it sent a painful jolt into his heart. It wasn’t right to torment her like so, but his own pain, the turmoil that had been wreaking havoc in his mind for over four days now, couldn’t be ignored either.
He rose from the bed and headed toward the door. On his way there, he grabbed his robe, deciding he’d be better off on the couch in his study. Without another look for Amalia, he left the room, fighting back the urge to return to her, to hold her and promise her everything would be fine.
There was no way to tell if things would end well.
But he hoped to God they would.
This song is angry, desperate, confused… (I might read into songs a bit too much, yes). It’s ups and downs, like Aiden. But also, ALSO, it’s named Farewell, so I had to pick it just to mess with ya’ll. Symphony No. 45 in F-Sharp Minor, Hob. I:45, “Farewell”: I. Allegro assai, by Franz Joseph Haydn.
【52】The Constables
Concerto Grosso in D Minor, H. 143 “La Folia” (after Corelli Violin Sonata, Op. 5 No. 12), by Francesco Geminiani.
Amalia was reaching the limits of what she could bear. She missed her old life, missed her husband, missed the bond they used to share.
His resentment was understandable, and she was aware that none of this would have happened if she’d just talked to him. This damned letter should have come up earlier, and she should have been truthful and honest with him.
Now, she was struggling to be forgiven, unsure how she could win Aiden’s affection again. As it turned out, she needed him as much as she needed air. Being torn away from him like this felt like a limb was missing, like an essential and vital part had left her life.
For weeks now, they had fooled themselves. They’d imagined everything could work out despite her origins, that nothing could get to them. But her past had caught up with them and was now threatening to destroy everything they had worked so hard to build. Even if she became the most perfect duchess England had ever seen, she would still be a bohemian.
How foolish must she have been to actually believe it could all work? She should have known from the start that the whole thing was tenuous and could crumble in seconds like a house of cards. Who she was at her core, her blood, wasn’t something she would ever be able to run away from. It was embedded in her, and it would follow her until the day she died. And the same applied to her children.
If only Sebastian hadn’t been such a loathsome cockroach… She still couldn’t believe how shameless her brother was, how he’d so easily threaten to ruin her life, his own nieces’ happiness. It had been agreed that he would stay at the inn in the village, and they would send for him when the money was ready. Knowing he was just a few miles away made Amalia feel unsafe, as if he could come at any moment.
It certainly would be better once there would be a sea between them and Sebastian. Unluckily for her, he’d been in England, close enough to get her letter fast. But he was apparently based in France, somewhere near Paris, where his pregnant wife and child were waiting for his return. So, once Sebastian went back to them, Aiden and Amalia would be rid of him for a few months, a few years. Until he came back for more money, which Aiden would give him again, having no other choice. This was their life now. Her husband would have to pay her brother and whoever blackmailed them, for the sake of his daughters.
All she could hope for was that they’d find their way back to another, despite the awful situation she had unwillingly thrown them into. She missed him terribly, and she needed his forgiveness, ready to do anything to gain it back. Their balance was off, and they needed to find it again soon. Her sanity depended on it.
So, with the hope that she could mend her broken marriage, she was making her way into the dark manor. For the past three hours, she’d been lying in her bed, waiting for him to go to his room. Last night, she’d tried to initiate something, to trigger his forgiveness; but it had failed terribly. She’d ended up crying in the bed they used to share, while he’d left to sleep God knows where.
Now, she realized that talking was what they needed, and she was adamant to have whatever conversation was required to salvage their marriage. But since he wasn’t coming back to his room, she had decided to go to him.
When she reached the door of his study, she was reassured to see the ray of light filtering from the bottom. At least, she wouldn’t have to search the entire manor to find him. Her hand trembled when she sent it to the panel. The first knock was so quiet he probably didn’t hear it, but she hit harder twice again.
“Enter!” he shouted.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she forced herself to dismiss her worries to open the door. The light in the room made her wince, and as soon as they accommodated, her eyes sought him, sitting behind his desk. Uneasily, she walked into the room, adjusting her long braid resting over her shoulder. She was just out of bed, in her dressing gown and slippers, and she didn’t feel ready for this at all. After closing the door behind her, she came closer.
“Is everything all right?” he worried.
“No.”
Her answer surprised him, his brows furrowed with questions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage to make her way around the desk. She leaned on it, her arms crossed on her chest. Aiden moved his chair back to face her better while she tried to find the proper words.
“I don’t know what to do,” she eventually said. “This is upsetting, and I know you are mad at me for keeping the letter secret. I also know our opinions diverge on how we should handle it. You made a great sacrifice, and I’m sorry that my brother is taking so much money from you.” Despite her best efforts, her voice trembled, and her eyes watered. “But I won’t let him break us apart. I miss my husband. I miss you, Aiden. I refuse to let my brother ruin this. Ruin us. If you think we should solve this another way, we will. If you want to tell everyone the truth about Ailia and Maeve, we shall. Anything is better than this.”
As much as possible, she wanted to shield the twins from any harm, to protect them from a life of side glares and whispers. But if it meant they could save their marriage, she was willing to trust him and put the fate and wellbeing of their daughters into his hands. If he believed he could handle the backlash, if he was confident they would only get out of it stronger, then she had to let him handle things as he wished to.
Her willingness to comply seemed to surprise him, and his expression softened. “Ama, I promised you would have a say in their education. You have been taking care of them for five years. Even if we disagree, I trust your judgment.”
“But I’m not sure if I’m right either. I don’t know what to do, Aiden, but I trust you to make the right decision. This is all so confusing. I’m lost and scared, and all I want is what’s best for the girls, for us, for the family. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot find the right solution.”
Her dismay apparently got to him, and for the first time in five days, he dared to display some affection toward her. With a firm hand, he grabbed her hip and pulled her toward him. She followed his will, and was soon seated across his lap, reveling in the warmth of his familiar body. She missed him so much. Being estranged from him like this was excruciating.
“Amalia, I’m sorry for the way I’ve handled this. I realize you’re just as worried as I am, and I shouldn’t have shut you out like this. But you should have told me. From the moment you realized the letter was a mistake, you should have let me know it existed.”
“I know. I really know. And I won’t ever do something like that again, Aiden. I trust you with my life, with our daughter’s lives. I swear I’ll be truthful in the future, and never put us in a situation like this ever again.” As she stared into his cerulean eyes, she realized that it didn’t matter if he didn’t love her back. She was in love with him, and he needed to know. That way, he’d see how she never wanted to be away from him, how she’d make sure to do better in the future.
“Aiden, I—”
Three urgent knocks on the door interrupted her impulsive declaration of love. Concerned by what this could be about, so late in the evening, she stood up. Aiden stood to see who was at the door. Appleton was there, looking positively worried.
“Your Grace, there are three men waiting in the main hall, asking for you. Two of them seem to be constables and there’s… milady’s brother,” he added, uncomfortably looking at Amalia.
Amalia stared at the butler at the door, feeling a mix of puzzlement and worry take over her. What on earth had her brother done this time?
Aiden was as disconcerted as she was, and wasting no time, they hurried to the entrance hall. Given her attire, she wasn’t supposed to see anyone outside of the household. But at the moment, she couldn’t care less about what was proper. If Miss Belrose wanted to scold her in the morning for it, let her.
When they arrived on top of the stairs leading to the hall, there were indeed two law enforcement officers in their uniform, and standing between them, there was Sebastian, handcuffed. When Aiden and Amalia reached them, both officers removed their hats and bowed slightly.
“Your Graces,” said the oldest one, “we apologize for calling at such an hour, but trust that we wouldn’t if it wasn’t an important matter.” The man looked at Amalia, wondering if she should be included in this ordeal.
“Speak,” ordered Aiden, having no patience.
“Yesterday, we caught this man robbing a house in York. It was the house of a nobleman who would rather remain nameless. Since we caught him in the act, we held the trial this very afternoon. We found out about other mischiefs he has done in the past, and he was sentenced to death.”
Amalia’s heart dropped in her chest. As much as she despised her brother, knowing he was about to die pained her. She looked at Sebastian, who wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact, a cocky smirk was stretching his lips.
“We never do this,” the officer continued. “But this man insisted he knew you, your Grace, that he was important to you. He assured you wouldn’t let him hang. He gave details about your family, your house… The judge has been invited here several times, so he understood the man might be telling the truth. Considering himself a friend of the family, his Honor decided to let you decide what we should do with this man.”
Aiden gave a deadly stare to Sebastian, who still had that confident grin. They gauged each other for a moment.
“Does your Grace know this man?” the officer insisted.
“Yes,” Aiden admitted, displeased.
“What do you wish to do with him?”
Aiden and Sebastian kept looking at each other for a while, and Amalia worried this might turn into a fight. She intervened, taking the initiative since Aiden didn’t seem ready for that. “I would like to speak to him privately. Please, remove the handcuffs. We can deal with this like civilized people.”
The officer hesitated and looked at Aiden to see if he would object. With a simple nod, her husband ordered him to comply, and the constable unhooked the keys at his waist. Opening the locks on Sebastian’s wrists, the man remained uncomfortable about the situation.
“We will be right here if you need us,” he offered.
With a firm hold on his arm, Amalia guided her brother to a small parlor, followed closely by Aiden. She managed to keep her calm all the way there, and as soon as the door closed behind her, she exploded.
“You imbecile!” she yelled at Sebastian. “You had ten thousand pounds coming, but you couldn’t resist a week without breaking into someone’s house?”
“You know how it is,” her brother said, casually sitting on a sofa. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Do you remember how it works, or have you forgotten, up here in your golden castle?” Amalia glared at him with resentment. Her brother continued, not impressed. “I want Marianne to live a luxurious life as you do here. What your husband is giving me is barely enough to cover my debts.”
Disgust took over her. Ten thousand pounds wasn’t enough? How much did he need? How often would he come here to extort money from them? If they gave it to him now, what could assure them he wouldn’t go back on his word in the future if they ever refused to give him what he wanted?
Only then did she understand this situation wasn’t sustainable. Aiden was right. They couldn’t indulge in her brother’s behavior by playing his games.
She wondered what she should do, turning to her husband. He was at the door, letting her handle it as she wished, but ready to intervene if needed. He had been right all along. Such a secret could never remain hidden, and trying to protect it would be a restless, expensive task. One that could become pointless if just one person talked. Be it her brother or a servant who knew the truth.
With pure resentment in her eyes, she looked at her brother, who was still sure he would win this battle. She wouldn’t have him harmed, but she would not let him get out of this so easily. Once her decision was made, she took a deep breath and stared down at her brother with pity.
“There is a new price for your silence regarding my daughters. You can either get those ten thousand pounds sent to Marianne, your son, and your unborn child, or you can have your life spared.”
Her brother’s assurance faded at once as he straightened up in his seat, looking enraged. “I won’t let you change the deal, phen . I will have ten thousand and the life spared.”
“You don’t really have a choice, Phal ,” she argued. Her brother stood up and came closer to her. Feeling his temper escalating dangerously, she turned to Aiden. He had already moved closer and was by her side, ready to protect her.
“If you do this,” Sebastian vociferated, “I will tell the world about your bastard girls. Everyone will know that the Duke of Leeds married a bohemian whore.”
Aiden moved, about to get physical, but Amalia held him back. “If it came to this, they wouldn’t believe you, and if they did, we would face them with all our might,” she declared, confidently holding her ground. Her husband turned to stare at her, stunned. He understood she was ready to let it go, to let the world know about the twins and their scandalous affair.
Sebastian was out of arguments. He wouldn’t win, and he was realizing it. His face was red with anger, his blood-shot eyes crazed. “You fucking bitch!” he shouted, his hand moving to slap her with strength.
Before the impact could reach her, Aiden was on him, shoving her away before his fist crashed into Sebastian’s jaw.
Stumbling back, Amalia watched as the two men fought, taking and giving blows after blows. She was absolutely helpless, unable to do anything as her husband and her brother were battling with great rage. Her brother had more experience in fighting, but Aiden had the physical advantage. His reach was longer, and he could punch Sebastian more easily. Also, because of the poor state of his health, Sebastian tripped, missed a few shots, and was rapidly out of breath.
They stumbled on a coffee table, ending up brawling on the floor. Sebastian was over Aiden, using his advantage to administer a series of blows. She tried to stop him by pulling her brother back, but he shoved her away. Losing her footing, she fell against a chest of drawers, her temple hitting the hard wooden surface with a painful blow.
A white flash blinded her for a split second, and her ears rang as she tried to stand up. But she wasn’t steady enough, her head painful and dizzy. The room was spinning around her, her feet were clumsy, her legs uncooperating. She could barely understand what was happening between the fighters, but she gathered they were standing again.
Her fall seemed to have enraged Aiden, who was punching Sebastian with everything he had. With substantial force, he threw him against a cabinet. The sound of the glass breaking and the wood cracking resonated in her ears. With his bloodied face, Sebastian stayed unconscious on the floor, in the middle of what was left of the piece of furniture.
In a second, Aiden worriedly came to her, leaving her brother haggard and on the floor. His hand gently touched her temple where she’d hit the counter. His eyes were full of concern, even though he’d been the one taking all the hard blows, not her.
“Are you all right, love?” he asked, incredibly anxious.
The ringing in her ears was almost gone, and the room wasn’t spinning as much as before. She nodded and lifted her hand to touch his jaw, where a red mark was visible. There was a cut on the arch of his eyebrow, and blood was making its way down the left side of his face.
“Are you ?” she managed to ask.
He nodded, dismissing her question. “It’s nothing.”
With the solid support of his hands, he helped her stand. Amalia wobbled a little before finding her balance. God, this evening was going horribly. For all she cared, Sebastian could go to hell. How dare he come into their house and do all this?
When she turned to the spot where he’d fallen on the floor, she found it empty, only pieces of the cabinet scattered on the floor. A movement behind Aiden caught her eyes, and what she saw filled her with horror.
Her bloodied brother was brandishing a large piece of glass, ready to stab Aiden in the back.
Sebastian really said: 🤬🔪🩸😵
Okay, I wanted an angry song, but I didn’t want to share some Beethoven again, and he was basically the only angry mf out there. So this one will have to make do. It’s still a good one! It’s intense at points and all. Concerto Grosso in D Minor, H. 143 “La Folia” (after Corelli Violin Sonata, Op. 5 No. 12), by Francesco Geminiani.
【53】Blood and Stitches
Periodical Overture No.17 in E flat: Andantino, by Thomas Erskine.
Filled with dread, Amalia didn’t hesitate for an instant. As her brother moved to administer his blow, she pushed Aiden away from his aim with all her strength.
She managed to shove him out of the improvised blade’s way, and the glass only reached his shoulder, tearing the fabric of his shirt. Moving quickly, Aiden spun around and grabbed his opponent’s wrist. Unable to do anything, she watched as he kept knocking Sebastian’s hand against the wall, over and over. Eventually, her brother released the fragment of glass with a groan, the inside of his hand cut and bloody. As it fell on the floor, the sharp tool shattered into tiny pieces.
Finally, the two constables burst in, alerted by the noise of the ruckus. After a moment of looking at the wrecked room and the two men fighting, they ran to help Aiden handle Sebastian.
The latter shouted and fought until the officers handcuffed him again. With a kick on the back of his knee, they forced him to kneel on the floor, his hands on his back.
“Your Grace, what should we do with this savage?” the older one asked, out of breath.
Amalia’s heart clutched painfully at the way her brother glared at her. It was clear that Sebastian loathed her with everything he had. There was nothing brotherly in his eyes, only pure, unaltered hatred.
Unsure what to do, Amalia gave Aiden a desperate look. She had no idea how to handle this. She’d tried, and it had turned into utter chaos. Now, she was letting her husband decide. Her brother had just tried to kill him, with a blow in the back like a coward. He was threatening their daughters, their lives, their happiness.
As much as she wanted to treat Sebastian like family, she needed to put the new one she had built first. Aiden and the girls were worth so much more than her estranged brother. They were everything to her, and she wasn’t letting Sebastian destroy them.
She would be pained if her brother’s sentence was carried on. His actions made it hard for her to defend him, but he was still her big brother, the very one who’d taught her how to fish, how to punch someone, how to cheat at cards… The man in front of her was nothing like the Sebastian she used to know. Somehow, he’d lost himself over the years, because of a life full of alcohol, hardship, and wrong decisions.
Apart from everyone’s ragged breathing, the room was utterly silent, no one knowing what to say, what to do.
Aiden finally spoke, his decision taken. “Have him put in the nearest boat to the continent. I want him out of this country.”
Amalia’s concern faded off instantly, and the two officers stared at him, surprised by the verdict. Even Sebastian looked up at Aiden, astonished. “Have him gagged all the way there, and make sure he never comes back. If he does, let him be executed for his offenses.”
The two officers nodded, still not understanding how the bohemian’s life could be spared after all this.
Aiden went toward the wretched man and squatted so he could be leveled with him. “If the secret you hold ever comes out, I will have you tracked down and killed, without a second thought. I have the means to find you, wherever you may hide, and trust me when I say I always win. Even if I can’t find you, I will put a bounty on your head so high, all of Europe will know about it. Your own people will turn on you for the money I’ll gladly pay them. Your own family won’t be able to resist. Is that clear, Romero?”
Amalia watched as Sebastian processed the threat. She knew exactly how well it worked since Aiden had given her a similar one not so long ago. Her husband was a powerful man, and the confidence he showed off made the intimidation even more efficient.
With the way Sebastian was looking at him, it was clear he would kill him right there and right then if he could. But he was overpowered. There was no way he’d win this battle. Sebastian gave him a single nod and a murderous glare, acknowledging Aiden’s threat. He would keep the secret or lose his life.
Standing back up, Aiden gestured to the constables to take him away, done with her brother. He’d been merciful, so much more than she’d expected, and she would forever be thankful for it.
After they’d clarified a few things with her husband, the constables left them alone, escorting Sebastian out with them. Once alone in the room, she moved to Aiden, worried about the red patch growing on his shirt around his shoulder. Pragmatic, she inspected him to assess the damage her brother had done. There was a substantial amount of blood dripping down his arm, where the glass had cut him. She found the hole in the fabric and tore it wider to see the wound.
Aiden tried to make her stop, pretending that he was fine. “It’s just a scratch, Ama.”
“You need stitches,” she declared, having seen that the wound went deeper than he pretended. Gazing up, she inspected his brow, putting her thumb just over the cut to stretch the skin and gauge the depth of the cut. The blood was already drying, so she couldn’t see properly. “Maybe here too. I cannot tell until we clean the wound.”
“Amalia, I’m fine.”
“No, you are not!” she scolded him, employing the same tone she used when one of the girls misbehaved. She made him sit on the sofa and went to the door, where servants had been gathering. “I need a clean needle, string, scissors, warm water, clean linens, and alcohol,” she asked. Quickly spreading in every direction, several maids went to fetch what was required.
“What kind of alcohol do you need?” a footman asked.
“Whisky,” she answered.
“Rum,” Aiden requested at the same time from inside the room.
The footman nodded and went to get the bottles. Shooing the rest of the servants away, Amalia closed the door and went back to Aiden, who was quietly waiting. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt and helped him remove them both at once. He winced when she made him bend his arm but didn’t complain. He wasn’t haggard, his face wasn’t pale, and he seemed in full control of himself. It reassured Amalia, but she still had to tend to the wounds. There was no way she would let gangrene take him away from her.
“How is your head?” he asked, reaching to graze her temple, still worried about her earlier blow.
“Fine, I will have a bump, but it is nothing.”
Someone knocked at the door, and without waiting for the answer, three maids came in with a pot of hot water, the linens, and a case containing a stitching kit. The footman followed with two bottles. Amalia made them leave and gave Aiden the rum. He drank eagerly from it, and she opened the whisky. To calm her trembling hands, she took two gulps of it, and poured some on a needle and the string she’d prepared. With careful moves, she cleaned the cut on his arm with a warm, wet piece of fabric. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as she had thought.
Aiden growled when she poured a generous dose of alcohol on the injury, but he allowed her to proceed without a word. Applying herself the best she could, she took care of him. Because her brothers always used to get themselves into trouble, she had patched them up several times in the past. It had been years since the last time she’d put stitches on someone, but it quickly came back.
“Thank you,” Aiden said while she was tying a stitch she just finished.
“For what?”
“Saving my life.”
Taken aback, Amalia sent him a puzzled look. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“You could have let him stab me. You’d be a very rich widow right now. You would have your freedom back.”
Offended, she stared at him, incredulous. Where did that come from? Why on earth would she want him dead? Then she saw it. The insecurity in his eyes. He thought she still believed she’d be better off without him. She had been convinced of it for weeks initially, but now, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Life without him held no appeal. She needed him by her side.
With her hand gently pressed on the uninjured side of his face, she glanced at his beloved features, wondering what she would do without him.
“I don’t want my freedom anymore. I want you.” Deciding it was time to open her heart, she confessed the thing that would always be true. “I love you, Aiden.”
He said nothing, too stunned to respond. “I don’t know if I’m in love again, or if I never actually stopped loving you, but I love you nevertheless. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to have more children with you, to grow old by your side, to see your face change over the years. There is nothing in this world that I want more than a lifetime with you, my darling.”
Tongue-tied, Aiden remained motionless, shock plastered on his face, his mind running wild as he was having a hard time making sense of her words. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting any of this. His bewilderment was most amusing, and she wondered if he’d been blind to all the signs she’d shown, or if she’d been too good at hiding her feelings.
Remembering her task at hand, Amalia resumed her work, pinching his wound before piercing the flesh with her needle. He flinched but didn’t protest, and she pulled the string through.
“I never stopped,” Aiden suddenly declared.
“What?” When she peeked at him, she found his blue gaze locked on her, something intense in his eyes.
“I never stopped loving you.”
It was her turn to freeze, holding her needle mid-air, speechless. He loved her. Aiden loved her. He’d never stopped loving her.
“As much as I tried to convince myself in the past that I loathed you, you were always the woman of my dreams, Ama. You were always the most important one, the one I would compare others to. Deep down, I never stopped loving you, never stopped wanting you. I need you more than you could ever imagine, my love.”
Overwhelming emotions took over her, and Amalia’s vision became blurry, her eyes filling with tears of pure, unaltered elation. Aiden loved her.
Unable to resist, she bent to kiss him, a tear rolling down her cheek between them. One of Aiden’s hands found its way on the back of her head, and he tenderly kept her there, returning her kiss with loving passion. Amalia’s heart was beating dangerously fast in her chest, which seemed to be expanding to make room for all the emotions wrecking her. Her husband loved her. She’d been so reluctant, so scared of the way their marriage might unfold. But they were in love. Their bond was strong. It was powerful enough to persist despite the years, the mistakes, and the wrong assumptions.
Pulling away from his lips, she pressed her forehead against his, relishing in their proximity. “I love you,” she uttered with a whisper. “I will forever love you, Aiden.”
“I love you too, Ama. I always have.”
His sweet words made her shiver from head to toe, and she took his lips again, needing to act on her emotions. After one last, intense kiss, she pulled away from him completely. His arm still needed to be taken care of. They would have plenty of time to express their love afterward.
She did an excellent job on his shoulder, trying to be as gentle as she could, wanting to spare him the pain. She decided his brow needed at least two stitches. So she changed position to stand between his spread knees.
Bent over him, she cleaned the wound, passing a cloth soaked in whisky over it. Definitely not in shock, Aiden playfully opened her dressing robe and untied the knot of her nightgown’s collar, to see down her cleavage freely as she worked. Because he deserved a nice distraction from the needle she was poking in his face, she allowed him, giggling at the appreciative “hmm” he let out.
“There, all done,” she finally declared as she cut the string from the last stitch.
As if he’d been waiting for this, he grabbed her behind her legs and made her straddle him in a split second. Surprised, she let the scissors fall on the floor while he took her lips with hunger. His enthusiasm was contagious, and she kissed him back with fervor, wrapping an arm around his neck. When his hands grabbed her bottom and pressed her harder against him, she let out a soft plaint.
What was it with men and being horny after a fight? She’d seen it countless times happen back in her camp, and Aiden didn’t seem to be an exception. He was devouring her, and she worried he might hurt himself.
“Darling, wait,” she tried.
“I can’t wait. I want you now. My pirate princess of a wife who isn’t afraid of blood and knows how to stitch someone up.”
She chuckled in his mouth, amused that he’d be appreciative of those qualities. When he pulled on her clothes to get rid of them, she noticed how he flinched with pain.
“Stop!” she insisted.
Before he could prevent it, she stood up and took a few steps back. Never letting go of his eyes, she got rid of her dressing gown and the shirt underneath, standing in front of him perfectly naked.
Impatiently, he opened his breeches to free his erection. With a hand around his girth, he massaged it slowly, delighted by the sight of her. As she looked at his exposed shaft, the way he was caressing it, her mouth watered.
For a while now, she had been wondering if she could please him with her mouth, as he had pleased her so often with his. She always dismissed the idea, judging it too salacious. But now, it was all she could think of. She wanted to lick and kiss that part of him, and as she watched his hand go up and down, she wondered if she could take it inside of her mouth, in and out, mimicking the sexual act.
Before she let herself think too much about it, she came closer and kneeled in front of him. She pulled on his breeches, and he lifted himself to help her remove them. Then she pushed his hand away, and her own took over. She touched him as he’d just done, examining him from up close for the first time. This part of him was beautiful, and she marveled at how hard, straight, and big it was. All this was just for her…
She glanced up, and their eyes locked. He was positively wordless, waiting for her to do something. A wicked smile grew on her lips, and she bent slowly. Never breaking eye contact, she licked it from the base to the tip, very pleased when she heard him mutter a curse.
Encouraged by his reaction, she licked the top again, having noticed over time it was more sensitive. As if she was torturing him, he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. His hand went to her hair, imperceptibly pressing her closer. Curious to test her theory, she took him inside the warm confines of her mouth, her tongue still stroking him. He moaned, and his hand pushed softly on her neck, silently asking her to take him deeper.
Compliantly, she took him as far as she could until it became uncomfortable. He swore again, and it filled her with pride. She moved up and down slowly, imitating lovemaking, grazing his smooth flesh with her tongue, feeling the head of it poke the back of her throat… Her instinct took over, and she let loose, forgetting all about decency and properness – which he seemed to enjoy a lot. With one hand, she cupped the sack resting under his shaft, fondling it carefully. This part of him was oddly warm, and the way he groaned told her he enjoyed her ministrations. With her other hand, she massaged the base of him, the part she couldn’t reach with her mouth.
She focused on him, on his reactions, on the way his hand was tensing in her hair, his stones contracting and relaxing in her palm. His moans became louder and louder, and his hips started to nudge up languorously, pressing his shaft deeper into her mouth each time. She wanted to make him come like this, with her hands and her mouth, but she also wanted him inside of her. In almost ten days, they had only enjoyed a few stolen minutes in the study at the ball. She missed having him inside of her.
With one last lick on the underside of his swollen head, she let him go and went back to straddle his lap. He welcomed her with enthusiasm, kissing her with passion. Her hand reached between them, to circle his hard girth, and she guided his shaft inside of her. It slid easily, and she moaned with the satisfaction of being filled again.
“I love you,” she breathed out, her eyes getting lost in his blue irises. A delighted smile was on his lips when he framed her face with his hands. Something intense passed between them, and it made her chest ache, but in the best of ways.
“I love you, Ama.”
It was all she needed, and she started to ride him at a slow, languid rhythm, determined to show him how much exactly she loved him.
Aiden was trying to catch his breath, his lovely wife on his lap, resting against his chest. His softening prick was still inside of her, and the massive load he’d released into her was slowly seeping out of her channel.
“Maybe I should get into a fight more often,” he declared with amusement.
“Don’t you dare,” she disagreed, her voice uneven. He smiled and kissed her shoulder, still amazed by what they had just shared.
Amalia, who had been so reluctant, so vehement about her desire to be rid of him in the beginning, was in love with him. They were meant for each other.
It was shattering to think he almost lost her forever. If not for the incredible luck he’d had in Bristol, she wouldn’t be on his lap right now, recuperating from a mindblowing orgasm with him. But he was sure of it now. It hadn’t been luck. It was their destiny. They would always find their way back to one another. It was written in the stars, or maybe in those tarot cards she’d once used on him.
She let out a small, trembling sigh, and his attention went back to the beauty pressed against him. What a lucky man he was…
When he’d seen her kneel before him, he’d prayed to every god he’d heard of that she would put her mouth on him. He hadn’t taught her that practice, worried that she would see it as degrading. Despite everything they’d shared, he refused to press her to do things she might not like. But he was bloody glad that she had figured it out on her own. He was even happier to know she’d enjoyed it.
The little unconscious moans she’d let out during her exploration had been almost as satisfying as the touch of her lips and tongue on his cock. Also, when she’d straddled him to take him inside of her, when he’d seen how wet it had made her, he’d almost lost his mind.
Outside, in the hallway, a clock rang three times, distracting him from his thoughts. “We should go to bed. Although… At this point, we might as well not sleep at all, or we won’t be up before noon,” he suggested. Amused, she straightened up to see his face.
“What do you propose we do?”
“I have a few ideas to keep us awake.” With a playful smile on his lips, he nudged his hips up, sensing he was getting hard again. With a soft laugh, she kissed his forehead.
“Or we could do that, once , and try to get some sleep, because we have a big day tomorrow.”
“What is happening tomorrow?” he asked as he held her hips. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he made her go up and down his hardening length.
“Tomorrow, we will tell the girls about their father.”
Dumbfounded, he froze. She laid a tender kiss on his lips, her hand caressing his jaw tenderly.
“We will tell them how you and I fell in love, lost each other and how we are together once more,” she told him, slowly resuming on her own the momentum of her hips. “We’ll tell them we will never lose each other again. They will know we are a genuine family. They will know you’re their real father.”
“Yes…” he agreed, the happiest smile splitting his face in half.
Finally, they would be an actual family. This was everything he’d wanted ever since finding Amalia again.
A family.
With her.
Finding a song was a little complicated because the chapter has many phases, so the song couldn’t just be frightfully, or romantic, or sweet… So this one’s a blend of things. Periodical Overture No.17 in E flat: Andantino, by Thomas Erskine
【54】Providence
Trio Sonata in E-Flat Major Op. 8 No. 6: II. Andante, by Giuseppe Tartini
Aiden wasn’t ready to wake up. With a low grumble, he tightened his hold on the sleeping shape plastered against his front, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Amalia didn’t even move, just exhausted as he was.
Someone knocked at the door, and he realized that a first series of knocks was what had woken him in the first place. Damn it. Whatever time it was, it was too early for this. He shoved his face into the soft hair of his sleeping wife, inhaling the familiar scent. He still wasn’t over the fact that she loved him back. Just how fucking lucky was he, really?
More knocks came to his ears, and this time, she stirred in his embrace, mumbling an incoherent protest. Alright, there was no need for the both of them to wake up.
He released a curse in a hushed voice and carefully released her, making sure he wouldn’t disturb her sleep. As he pulled away, he noticed the small patches of blood on his pillow. Only then did he remember about his injuries, and the pain in his shoulder suddenly made sense. She’d done an amazing job at patching him up, and from his experience, he would barely have a scar by the end of the healing process.
Utterly naked, he made his way out of the bed, highly displeased to be forced to get up like this.
After he’d made sure his wife’s nudity was fully covered, quickly admiring the gorgeous features of her sleeping face, he went to fetch his robe. Three new knocks, louder than the others, resonated in the room as he was tying the belt around his hips. At a hasty pace, he reached the door and half-opened it, not hiding his keen annoyance.
“What is it?” he growled.
Lambert looked positively uneasy to be bothering him like so, and Aiden realized it must have been important. “Your Grace, there are two constables waiting for you in the blue parlor.”
What was this nonsense? Had the men from last night not gotten all the information they needed? Why were they back so soon?
A bad feeling flooded Aiden, and some part of him wondered if something hadn’t gone wrong. What if Sebatian had escaped their vigilance? If his brother-in-law was out in the wild, none of them were safe.
“What time is it?” he asked his valet.
“A little before eleven, milord.”
“Prepare my outfit for the day, I’ll be right there.”
Without another word, Aiden closed the door and returned to the bed. Amalia was still deeply asleep, and he wondered if he should wake her up. After their second time in the parlor the night before, they’d come to their bed. Then, Aiden had made love to her one last time, before they’d fallen asleep in minutes, exhausted by their eventful night.
Deciding she deserved to sleep, he left her there; but not before he’d gently grazed her hair and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. By the time he arrived in his walk-in closet, Lambert had prepared everything. A few minutes later, he was leaving his quarters, ready to hear whatever news the constables were here to give him.
The two men stood when he entered the parlor, and Aiden’s worries grew stronger when he recognized them. They were the ones who’d brought Sebastian to them mere hours ago.
“Officers,” he greeted them, moving to sit across from them.
“Your Grace, sorry to bother you again,” the oldest one started.
“I imagine it’s important, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“It is, milord. You see, the man we brought last night… Well, he…”
Aiden braced himself, ready for the worst. If the god forsaken man had escaped, he’d set his threats into motion and have the entire country looking for him.
“Well, the man was found dead in his cell this morning,” the constable continued.
Confused, Aiden stared at the man for an instant. He’d been ready for a few things, but certainly not that. Sebastian was dead? Was it really possible?
“What happened?”
“When we brought him back yesterday, he was coughing blood, but we thought it resulted from the altercation you two had. So we paid it no mind, and we threw him in his cell for the rest of the night, with the firm intention of carrying out your wishes today. But earlier this morning, when someone checked on the prisoners, they found him lying on the ground, dead. Later on, the coroner found a long but thin shard of wood embedded in his back. It had perforated his lung. The man either didn’t feel it, or he decided to say nothing. But it resulted in him drowning in his own blood.”
Dumbfounded, Aiden tried to process all of this. It must have happened when he’d thrown Sebastian against the glass cabinet. Without knowing it, he’d killed the man right then.
“Anyhow, we thought you’d want to hear the news, your Grace, and we wanted to deliver it ourselves,” the constable concluded. “We shall be on our way and not disturb you any longer. Let us know if there are any arrangements you’d like for the man’s burial. Otherwise, we’ll put him into an unmarked grave, like the others.”
Aiden distractedly nodded, unsure what Amalia would want to do about her brother’s funeral. Damn it, he’d have to tell her. This wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to.
Long after the constables had left, he was still in the parlor, wondering how he’d break the news to his wife. She’d been so full of gratitude the night before when he’d spared Sebastian’s life… Hearing about his death so unexpectedly would hurt her.
Mustering some courage, he forced himself to leave the room and headed back to his chambers. Amalia was still fast asleep, even though she’d changed position and was now hugging his pillow, her face half-shoved into it. Her face wore an expression of satisfaction, even though she was asleep. It was as though she remembered things were all solved and perfect, even when unconscious.
He sat by her, and with a gentle hand, he grazed the round and smooth shape of her shoulder. “Ama, darling, wake up,” he spoke softly. It did nothing, so he repeated the words louder. When she moved slightly, her brows furrowed with protest, he gently squeezed her shoulder. “It’s time to wake up, my love.”
“I don’t want to,” she mumbled in a hoarse voice.
“You have to. Come on, darling. Open your eyes for me.”
She eventually complied, blinking until her eyes adapted to the light. It was nearly noon now, so the room was bathed in it. After a quick stretch, she rolled on her back to look up at him, her hair forming a dark halo of messing curls around her face.
“Good morning, husband,” she greeted him with a delighted smile.
“Good morning, wife.”
Unable to resist her tempting call, he bent over and gave a long and affectionate kiss. When he pulled away, her face was pinker than it had been before.
“Why are you already dressed?” she complained. “I was expecting some morning fun with you.”
“Something came up, and I needed to go handle it.” His tone was serious enough to communicate the gravity of what had happened, and she caught up on that.
With a slight frown, she sat up in the bed, resting her back against the wooden headboard. As her hands tucked the covers under her arms to hide her breasts, she stared at him inquisitively.
“What happened, Aiden?”
“The constables from yesterday came back.”
A series of emotions crossed her exquisite face, including worry and incomprehension. “Why? Did Sebastian do something? Did he go back on his word?”
He shook his head, unsure how to announce to her that he’d passed. “I’m so sorry, my love. He… They found him dead in his cell this morning.”
At first, her eyes went huge with stupor, his declaration hard to believe. It was understandable, given that he, himself, had found it unlikely at first. But when she realized he was speaking the truth, her dark gaze quickly filled up with tears. She remained absolutely silent, processing the information as a few drops rolled overboard and traveled down her cheeks.
Desirous to comfort her, Aiden brushed them off with the pad of his thumb, wishing he would spare her from the heartache.
“I shouldn’t be crying over him,” Amalia declared with a loud sniff.
“It’s alright, my love. I know how important family is to you.”
“It is. Which is why he doesn’t deserve my tears.” He failed to understand her meaning, but she expanded on her logic. “He tried to hurt my family. Sebastian tried to kill you, to ruin the future of our daughters… He deserved whatever he got. I’m only sorry for the brother he used to be. He wasn’t always like this, he used to be good to me.”
More tears gathered in her eyes, as if she was remembering sweet memories she had of him. It pained him to see her so distressed, so he moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her sobbing frame.
As sorry as he was for her loss, a part of him was aware that this meant the end of their troubles. With Sebastian dead, his threats were gone with him. He wouldn’t spread the world about their daughters as a retaliation, and their family was safe, left untouched by the man’s loathsome attempt. Amalia would see it eventually – once she was done mourning the brother she used to know years ago.
Outside, the familiar sound of the girls running came to his ears. As he suspected, the door flew open a few seconds later. Aiden had moved away from his wife, and he turned to the twins with a reprimanding expression on his face.
“What did we say about coming into this room?” he asked their daughters, who were about to burst inside.
They sighed and returned to the hallway, closing the door behind them. Three firm knocks followed, and Aiden turned back to Amalia, to make sure she was alright with them coming in. Putting a brave face on, she wiped away her tears and nodded her approval. He tenderly kissed her forehead before turning to the door again.
“Come in,” he instructed.
Less than a second later, the door opened again, and the girls ran into the room. They were wearing assorted morning dresses, and he watched with affection as they rushed to the bed. Oblivious to their mother’s dismay, they made their way up on the mattress and greeted her with kisses. Aiden was granted a few as well, struggling to keep up with their infinite flow of words. Apparently, they had quite enjoyed their morning lessons, and were giving them a fast and nonsensical report of it all.
“Mommy, why aren’t you wearing a nightgown?” Maeve asked, intrigued.
“I was too hot to keep it,” she improvised. “Aiden is like a furnace.”
“Oh, does it mean I’ll have to remove mine too if there is a boy in my bed?”
“No, you won’t,” Aiden quickly interviewed. “The nightgown stays on. Always. And there won’t ever be a boy in your bed, so forget about this.”
His overprotectiveness made Amalia chuckle, and she shook her head at him. With a gesture of her hand, she silently asked him for her nightgown, discarded at the foot of the bed. He went to pick it up from where he’d dropped it the night before, and she adroitly slipped it on after he’d handed it to her.
“So, tell me again about that lesson?” she patiently asked.
“Miss Belrose told us about the virtues of a good family,” Ailia explained. “She told us that children like us had to obey their mommy, because it was the right thing to do. And then she told us how the daddy was in charge of all the important decisions.”
“But we told her we didn’t have a daddy, so you are the one who makes all the decisions,” Maeve filled in, proudly looking at Amalia.
“She wasn’t really happy with that…”
“But you have a daddy, my angels. Aiden is your daddy.”
His heart hammered in his chest, beating a hectic rhythm. She’d promised they would tell the truth to the girls, but he hadn’t expected it to be so early, and certainly not so casually.
Dubiously, the twins turned to him. After a moment of thorough reflection, they returned their attention to their mother. “No, but she meant like, a real daddy,” Ailia countered.
“Can you two keep a secret?” Amalia asked, her voice mysterious as though they were about to live a grand adventure.
The girls nodded with enthusiasm, and Amalia offered him an inviting gaze, stretching her hand so he’d take it. He complied, and she pulled him closer, until he was seated on the bed by her side. Clearly intrigued, the girls stared at the both of them alternatively.
“You two remember how Aiden and I were friends before, right? I’ve told you about how I taught him to play the violin, before you were born.” They nodded, their adorable heads in perfect synchronization. “Well, the truth is that Aiden and I were in love. And he is the man I chose to become a father to my children. There could never have been anyone else, it was always going to be him.” She paused, squeezing his hand gently before bringing it up to her mouth and kissing the back of it.
“So he has been your daddy all along, from the very beginning,” she continued. “He was even going to be the best father there ever was. But then I got lost all the way to Spain, and despite how much he wanted to, he couldn’t be here for you. But then he found us again, because he cares about you very, very much. Because you are his real daughters. And he is ready to be the best daddy ever again.”
The girls were properly confused, their blue gazes traveling from him to their mother. Without the biological aspect of procreation, it was hard to explain what exactly made him their father. But he found Amalia’s explanation quite clear, and he hoped it would leave no room for interpretation in the twins’ minds.
“You’re our real daddy?” Maeve asked first.
To his surprise, her tone wasn’t skeptical. She almost sounded hopeful, as though she’d been waiting for a father this whole time, hoping to be granted one, like the other children.
“Yes, I am your real daddy. Your mommy was keeping you safe until we could be reunited again.”
“Does it mean we are a real family?” Ailia wondered with excitement.
It was Amalia’s turn to nod, emotional tears filling her eyes. “Yes, sweetheart. We are a real family, with real daughters, a real mommy, and a real daddy. We were just a little late, but everything is alright now.”
The wonderment in the girls’ eyes reached something deep into Aiden’s chest. They had been longing for this, hoping to become a real family. The fact that they already treated him like a father would help them accept him as such.
Naturally, the twins had about a hundred questions regarding this new information, since their minds tried to make sense of it all. For nearly half an hour, they tried their best to answer, managing to avoid the ‘Where do babies come from?’ question.
Because Amalia was worried about them not grasping the importance of keeping all this a secret, she came up with some unbreakable kind of pacts. Aiden watched, intrigued, as she grabbed a hairpin that was on her nightstand.
“Each of you, show me your right hand,” she asked. The girls swiftly complied, Ailia bringing her left hand forward first before realizing her mistake.
“Aiden, your hand,” Maeve insisted. Biting back a smile at her authoritative tone, he extended his right hand as well.
“Alright, this is very important,” Amalia gravely declared. “A blood pact can never ever be broken. Whatever happens, you can never go back on your word. You have to respect a blood pact forever. Is that clear?”
They all nodded, Aiden included. With careful moves, Amalia proceeded to prick each of their index fingers, apologizing for the slight pain she inflicted. He was quite entertained about this process, wondering if it could really work. Of course, he’d rather the girls never spilled the heavy secrets they were now burdened with. But he was ready in case they did, prepared to face the consequences.
Once she had pricked herself as well, Amalia made them all assemble their indexes together, all four droplets of blood mixing into one.
Aiden didn’t really trust the process until he glanced at the girls. They looked terribly serious, their grave expressions somber. Maybe, after all, Amalia knew what she was doing with this.
“Now, repeat after me. Never will I ever tell anyone that Aiden is the actual father of Ailia and Maeve .”
They all solemnly repeated the words, and only then did Amalia allow them to remove their fingers. Just as they were done wiping the blood away, the nanny appeared in front of the wide-open door.
“There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you, girls!”
With contrite winces, the twins got down from the bed and walked over to Mrs. Pots. The nanny apologized for the disturbance, and closed the door, isolating them again.
“That went rather well,” Amalia proudly declared.
“It did, didn’t it? Are you sure they’ll keep the secret?”
“I think they might. They took this blood pact thing quite seriously.”
“Hmm, yes. I must say, it was very witchy of you.”
“Really, I didn’t know what else to do. Secrets are still a concept hard to grasp for them. Let’s hope they will respect the pact.”
“As long as they know we are a proper family, I’m good with whatever may come our way.”
Something turned tender into Amelia’s eyes, as though she could understand and sympathize with the struggle he’d faced. At least, now the twins knew the truth about him. They knew he was their father in every possible way.
From now on, they would be an actual family. With genuine bonds that tied them all together. Turning to his wife, drowning in her onyx eyes, he realized something might still be missing.
“Marry me,” he foolishly blurted out before his mind could have properly formed the thought.
“In case I’m remembering wrong, I already did that,” she reminded him with amusement, dangling her wedding band in front of him.
“I meant ‘marry me again’.”
“Why?”
“Because we need a real ceremony. I want to do it again, and mean it this time when I promise to love and cherish you. You deserve so much better than this rushed, humiliating, and forced wedding I put you through.”
She considered it for a moment, her gaze scanning his to gauge how serious he was. It may have sounded ludicrous, but if they were to be a real family, they needed a real wedding, and not the poor excuse of one they got.
“If we do this,” she cautiously started, “I won’t swear obedience to you. I did it once before, and I’d rather not lie before God again.”
Her words ripped a deep and genuine laugh from him. This woman was truly one of a kind. “You can say or not say anything you want. Since we are already married, you can even write your own vows. It won’t pose a problem.”
The idea seemed to please her, and after a few more seconds of consideration, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll marry you again, Aiden Lan—”
The rest of her words faded into the urgent kiss he gave her. As he held her in the solid circle of his arms, he wondered once again what he’d ever done to deserve all of this, all of her.
Seriously, how lucky must he be to end up marrying Amalia Romero twice ?
And, we finish on a sweet note, with a pretty piece that’s got cheerful melodies. The YouTube version is with mandolins as the main instrument, while the one of Spotify has Cellos. Both have something to offer, the Spotify one definitely sounds more “classic”. But anyhow, here you go: Trio Sonata in E-Flat Major Op. 8 No. 6: II. Andante, by Giuseppe Tartini
【Epilogue】
Symphony No. 2 in D Major: I. Allegro William Herschel.
7 months later
Aiden climbed the stairs with haste, impatient to see his wife. His business in London had settled faster than he thought, and he hadn’t warned Amalia he would arrive two days earlier. Ten days apart were plenty enough, and he was eager to be reunited with her. It was about nine in the evening, and he expected to find her with a book in their bed.
Without knocking, he opened the door to their chambers and smiled when he found her in her chaste nightgown, reading a book with a green cover. Distractedly, she lifted her eyes from her pages, and her face lightened up when she saw him. Throwing her book to the side, she pushed the covers away and ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace. With her arms wrapped around his frame, she held him tight, her cheek on his chest. He had barely had time to lock the door, and her eagerness made him laugh as he pressed her against him and kissed her hair. God, how he’d missed her.
She lifted her face, as greedy as he was, and he gave her a hungry kiss. With remarkable strength, she pulled him in, ravenous for more. Well, it was great to see he wasn’t the only one finding ten days to be too long.
With a laugh, he grabbed her bottom to lift her. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her ankles crossed on his back, and he carried her to the bed. He laid her there and moved back to undress. Rising on her elbows, she shamelessly peered at him while he removed his clothes. When he was finally naked, he bent to kiss her and explore her over her nightgown.
One of his hands traveled to her front and gently touched the curve of her stomach, marveling at the changes of her pregnant body. According to the physician, she was well into her fourth month now. Since they already had two incredible girls, they were strongly hoping for a boy this time.
“How is my son?” he asked. She smiled and pressed her hand over his.
“He has been behaving well since you left. We are officially done with the morning sickness. It hasn’t happened once since you left.”
“That’s a good boy. And how is my wife?”
“She missed her husband,” she answered, pulling him down for more kisses.
Enjoying the taste of her, he let his hands roam over her soft curves, reveling in the moment. She protested when he ripped himself away from her lips, but he ignored her, kissing his way down to the curve of her stomach. After grazing the bump lovingly, he whispered something to the little one developing in her womb.
“What are you telling him?” she asked, both intrigued and amused.
“I was telling the baby I would also be ecstatic if it turned out to be a girl.”
After a few seconds of silence, her eyes watered. But he didn’t let it worry him. He had learned it was a side effect of her pregnancy. She was overly sensitive. Amorous, she pulled him in for a kiss as he hiked up her nightgown, impatient to feel her shatter against his tongue. He’d dearly missed her taste, and he couldn’t wait to sample it again.
The sound of someone trying to open the door made them both freeze.
“What is it?” Amalia shouted when the intruder wouldn’t give up. The small voice of one of their daughters answered.
“The tree is doing it again.”
Aiden growled as he let his head down on Amalia’s chest while she sighed. There was a branch near the twins’ window that had grown too large, and every time the weather was windy, it would screech on the glass and scare them. The old oak that had been so handy in the past was turning into a burden.
“I thought you were supposed to ask the gardener to take care of it before you left for London,” Amalia scolded him before unceremoniously pushing him away from her.
He grabbed his breeches and slipped them on while she went to the door. She waited for him to put on his shirt as well and unlocked the wooden panel. Ailia and Maeve entered, adorably sleepy in their white nightgowns. When they saw Aiden was back, they bolted toward him.
“Papa!” they yelled together, jumping in his arms. He hugged them tightly and flooded them with kisses. He’d missed them terribly. It had taken some time for them to fully grasp what everything meant, and about a month to start officially calling him daddy or papa.
As it turned out, the blood pact was proving to be efficient. The twins hadn’t spoken of their secret to anyone, which reassured them. So, for now, they had decided to enjoy their good fortune while it lasted.
After one last kiss on their head, Aiden left them for a moment, in need of quick ablutions and a change of clothes. When he came back, his three women were settled in the bed, the girls in the middle and Amalia on her side. There was just enough room left for him. With a broad smile, quite amused by the situation, he joined the trio.
It was now the sixth time the tree had made the twins come in their bed, and it was on purpose that Aiden had delayed the trimming. He enjoyed these moments. Amalia was too smart to be duped by his failure to give instructions to the gardener. As a matter of fact, Aiden had ordered the man not to touch the branch until he would tell him otherwise.
They exchanged a knowing look over their daughters, and he muttered, “I love you.” She grinned, and before she could respond, Maeve interrupted.
“Mommy, can you tell us a story?”
“Which one do you want?” The girls looked at each other and tried to think of a good one. Suddenly, Ailia had an epiphany.
“The one with the girl who could spit fire!”
Maeve nodded with enthusiasm, adding, “Oh, yes! And the prince!”
Looking at them with surprise, Amalia hesitated. “I haven’t told you that one in over a year. I didn’t think you remembered it.”
“We do. Well, not all of it. And we didn’t like it very much, because it doesn’t have a nice ending.”
Aiden begged to disagree. This story had a splendid ending.
“Very well,” Amalia agreed. “But this time, it has a nice ending.” Excited, the girls wiggled until they found a comfortable position and Aiden leaned on his elbow to watch his wife tell the story.
“Once upon a time, there was a girl who could spit fire. She was a proud pirate, and her father was the king of pirates. One day, she was spitting fire in the streets for a few pennies, when she met a handsome Prince. The Prince, despite all his friends, all his riches, and all his adventures, was bored.
“However, when he saw the fire-spitting girl, he decided he must learn her art. He invited her to his beautiful castle so she could teach him. But you see, my darlings, the girl had to be very careful, for if her father found out, he and his people would rob the castle, stealing all the marvels it held.”
“Was the castle as pretty as this one?” Ailia wondered.
“It was exactly like this one. For weeks, the pirate girl tried to teach the Prince how to spit fire as she did. Little by little, it worked, even though the Prince never reached the level of the girl,” she added, teasingly looking at Aiden. “As the Prince’s skills were growing, something else was developing too. You see, the Prince and the girl fell in love. But they couldn’t be together, for they didn’t belong to the same world.
“The father of the Prince, the King of the realm, hated Pirates, and the father of the girl, the King of the pirates, hated the Prince and his family. Nevertheless, the Prince and the girl swore to each other an eternal love, a love that would last through the decades and never fade.” She paused, and Aiden noticed the tears that welled up in her eyes. Reaching for her hand, he held it to help settle her mind down.
“One day, even though no one knew about their secret love, the Prince’s father, the King, decided to banish all the pirates from his land. Offended to be chased from their camp, the pirates retaliated by robbing the castle. In a hurry, they escaped to a faraway land. They forced the fire-spitting girl to go with them, giving her no choice. She cried for days, doomed to never to see her handsome Prince again.
“What she didn’t know then, was that her prince had given her the greatest gift of all. You see, my loves, he had left her with two little angels. These angels were bound to her, and they would watch over her. Because of the Prince’s parting gift, she would never forget him and stay strong.” As she finished her sentence, she kissed their daughters’ foreheads.
“This is where the story ends,” Maeve mumbled, half asleep.
“Not anymore, angel,” Amalia answered. “The girl, being a pirate, kept moving around, with her angels protecting her. One day, their travels brought them back to the Prince’s realm. What the fire-spitting girl didn’t know was that the Prince never stopped thinking about her. He never stopped loving her despite the years. One afternoon, a long time after they had been separated, the Prince found her wandering in his land. For his father had passed, and he was now the King.
“When he saw the girl and her angels, he left them no choice but to join him. He demanded they come to live in his castle. It had been so long, the pirate princess had almost forgotten she loved him with all her heart. She was reluctant to share her two angels with him, even though he had been the one who gave them to her. After much negotiation, she finally accepted his demand, and they all moved to his castle.” She squeezed Aiden’s hand, offering him a warm smile.
“It took some time for them to know each other again, because so much time had passed, but the love they had sworn to each other was greater than any obstacle. Before long, all four of them, the fire-spitting girl, the prince, and the two angels, were living a lovely life in their castle, with more angels to come and watch over them.”
The girls were nearly asleep, and Amalia gently grazed their foreheads, brushing away the small strands of dark hair from their faces.
“This story sounds a little like ours,” Maeve mumbled.
“Yes, but we don’t know a pirate girl who can spit fire,” Ailia agreed.
Aiden offered her a very amused glance over the sleepy forms of the twins. “It does sound familiar, doesn’t it?”
“It kind of does, yes…”
He watched as she bent forward to whisper wishes of sweet dreams into her daughters’ ears. When she looked up at him again, he was struck by the overwhelming tenderness in her eyes. Carefully, he leaned over the sleeping girls to press his lips on hers.
After a soft, almost chaste exchange, his eyes met hers again. “I love you, my spitfire.”
A small giggle rolled in her chest, and she returned his affectionate grin. “I love you, my prince.”
Her eyes then fell on the girls, and Aiden watched too as they slept soundly. Their two little angels. With a hand, he grazed her stomach gently, impatient to meet the third one, who would soon join their small family.
It was super cheesy, I know, but sometimes some cheesy in needed. Go to the next chapter, there is some important information in there!
I wanted to conclude the story with a cheerful, happy tune, so here we go, for a lovely piece with some festive melodies: Symphony No. 2 in D Major: I. Allegro, by William Herschel.
【Final Note】
Hey, guys!
Thank you for sticking around and following Amalia and Aiden’s story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve always loved historical romances, I fed off of them for the longest time. This is actually the first book I brought to completion, back in March 2019. I’m only done editing it and posting it now, though. But I already see a lot of things that still need to be edited. Writing is a never-ending bitch.
Anyhow, like many historical romances, this one is the first of a series . Yes, you read that right!
The sequel is 75% done as I’m writing this, and I absolutely adore it. It will take place 18 years after the end of
The Prince and the Spitfire
, in the midst of the Napoleonic war, and we will follow Maeve ! Also, the love interest happens to be someone we actually know, so I’ll let you read the blurb below and tell me where do we know him from ;)
It is already published, so you can find it in my works and add it to your library, to be sure you get a notification when I start updating it. Let me just tell you this: the characters are chef’s kiss
So, without further ado, I invite you to discover the blurb and cover of
The Black Swan and the Officer
.
London, 1815
Lady Maeve Langston’s aversion for men has given her the reputation of being an insufferable wench. After almost six Seasons she purposefully sabotaged, men have learned to stay away from her.
After his return from the Napoleonic wars, Lucian Thorne can’t bear the frivolousness of his peers. He loathes his newly inherited title of Baron Worthington, and would gladly return to being Major general in the Peninsula.
When the two meet, they rapidly learn to despise each other. Maeve finds the Baron to be arrogant and pompous, and Lucian sees her as a vain and manipulative brat.
As much as the Baron would like to stay away from her, his best friend decides he will marry the bloody woman. To save Delawney from the terrible union it would be, Lucian has to show him what a dreadful harpy she is under her lovely facade.
As they forcefully spend time together, the two realize they may have more in common than they thought, and what started as hatred slowly shifts into something different.
Something both of them will find much more dangerous.
