by Gina Kincade
At the time, however, Aubrey had wondered at the curious nature of his many discrepancies, his manner verses his emotions, coming off of him like waves. Having fought the need to touch him in order to decipher further the divergences of his feelings, she'd focused on her own unfounded fears. She sensed her own frailty in his presence despite the supernatural power she knew she could wield over him.
Her sudden, intense desire to know him had infiltrated her usual cautiousness even as she idly listened to the conversation continuing between him and Lady Sanderly. Since the Lady had brought up his mother, his tone had switched to a suave satin while his answers had became gruff and monosyllabic.
Aubrey had tried to emulate a Lady’s refinement, chiming in when she could until Lady Sanderly had been abruptly called away by Lord Sanderly. This left her standing with Lord Dalysbury. She feigned meek and timid, although in the usual play of things she had no lack of the assuredness of her own character.
“What have you most liked about your first days in London? The weather has been most agreeable for you, I do believe,” he stated.
She appreciated his diversion to common topics.
“It has, but I fear I am more of a bluestocking lady myself. I daresay, I have not ventured much past the garden to read.” While she perpetuated the bluestocking persona, intellectual and educated, to cover her intense study and practice of magic, it could not be a truer representation of her nevertheless.
“What have you read since you were here?” He stammered the words as if he was not used to discussing such a lofty subject with a woman.
“Just this morning, I finished Hester Chapone’s Letters on the Improvement of the Mind.” She squared off her shoulders and smiled as demurely as she could manage.
“Such a keen consciousness.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Do you read Mary Shelley?”
“Yes. I last read Loves of Poets.”
As she reflected on their conversation, she sighed at the haunting vision of him. She seemed helpless to stop the antics of her mind. Never had she quite let herself think upon the why of their relationship. She had merely been swept away by love at first sight and given leave of rational thoughts for moments of bliss she may never have the chance at again. Looking back with a clearer vision now, she had pushed aside all propriety to follow the desires of her quickly won heart. She had followed the needs of her body for what she knew could only be a short-lived, secret affair. Better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all had been the faulty proverb of her days. Though, in the end, it appeared more like bad self-advice or an easy excuse to have relations with a man with whom she could share no future.
In those first days, there had been numerous moments of inappropriately stolen kisses, improper grazes of his hands, and lengthy glances across crowded rooms all at the most dangerous of moments. This shocking behavior had continued despite the fact society believed him to be openly courting The Lady Elizabeth Ward, the daughter of a duke, for the love of all that is holy! Their courting had been more of a family business arrangement than a veritable romance. A Marquess and the daughter of a Duke wed for a gain in social standing and in covering over a mounting disaster of family finances. He had raged over the situation just days into their torrid affair while he'd walked with Aubrey at a garden party.
In her mind, they walked and talked again...
“Since meeting you, I see the faults of a marriage of convenience, one to gain station and to please the obligations set out by family. How, after knowing such passion with you, can I allow myself to be a mere pawn in a parental game of who shall marry whom? I cannot surrender my life for family alliances!”
“But, you must. There is no way around it. You have obligations, and thus it seems aristocratic children end up…”
“Powerless,” he cut her off. “I feel utterly powerless over my own future, like I was just sold to the highest bidder for position and reputation.”
“The Lady Elizabeth Ward…” The name had burned her throat burgeoning a barrage of tears she fought to suppress, “is better suited to be your wife than a poor relation of an Earl.”
With secrets that await scandal if brought into the limelight of those of your rank, her thoughts added.
She recalled how his sigh had meshed with her own. His tone had become more forlorn in recognizing the truth of her words.
“Before I met you, I used to think the same. If one considers the facts as they could be scrolled onto parchment then she does suit. Her lineage is as faultless as her manners. She has been trained to be the wife of a Duke or a Marquess and the mother of heirs. We do produce easy conversation, although we never share words of importance. I dare proclaim it is much the same with any talk within the ton.”
“This is why marriage within your own rank will make your life easier. It is the practical and the wise choice. Other than meeting you, I do prefer my own world to being whirled about in yours. This knowledge I have gained from my time in London. Do not worry for me. It is far preferable to have had the chance to shower love upon that person who fulfills you like no other and to hurt once they are gone than to have never known or made love to them at all.”
Her string of words had tumbled from her mouth. She'd tried to express what was in her heart, but she was making a cake of herself in the attempting of it. Yet, her use of the word love had been intentional. She'd wanted to say it to him, but known better. It would only cause problems for them both, having known even then she would have to leave. She could not bear to see him marry another, and that was the one thing which would dictate her future.
As if he had read her thoughts, which seemed an uncanny habit of his, he had said, “We all know of at least one person who has stood for love and married beneath them. It could be me! I can weather the scandal of walking away from an advantageous marriage and still fulfill the obligations of my position. I do not care one wit what society thinks of me! Often one is surprised to find society is not as harsh a council as one thought it to be.”
“I love you for even thinking it, but you are dreaming, my Lord. And, what if it all falls apart around you? What then? You have others to think of. We have only just met. We do not know of each other enough to make such rash decisions.”
Rash were the only choices she did make where he was concerned, but in this one matter, she could not allow it to be so. She tried to maintain some distance between them for his sake.
“There is time for us to decide. I am not being pressured with a time frame to ask for her hand as of yet. I could make you fall in love with me in time. I could set us up a house in the country. Could you not see me in a shabby coat with a few shaggy dogs at my feet when I do not have to be in attendance in London? Or, we could flee to America and be done with it all.”
“How absurd both ideas are. You are banking a lot on a few illicit meetings. Besides, you could never live with yourself having hurt Lady Elizabeth and your mother. You shall have to let me go. Honestly, I am not the lady of your youthful dreams, am I?”
“No, you are so much more than I ever dreamed possible for myself. You are truly a rare person, and I am in awe of all I know you to be. You have humbled this aristocrat. So, then let me ask you, am I the man of your dreams?”
“No,” she had laughed fully. “I had more in mind a man with no wealth and no title to speak of. I…” she had left off before she could slip and admit to having thought she would marry a man of magic.
It did not seem to matter to her now. There was another sort of magic she had then not been aware of—the magic of uniting two souls meant by the universe to be together even if society claims they are not to be permitted such happiness.
“I must be with you, fully as a man and a woman can. I must have at least that, please. I must know one night with you. I must have it in my memory to endure the lot that is my life. Please tell me you want me as much as I desire to have you.”
His words had sounded scandalous. Yet, the sexual tension between them had been so
viable she could actually see the sparks stemming from the energy which grew within her each day. She knew he had a part in that, as if he had powers of his own and was gifting them to her. Although, a sillier notion there never was. Just being with the man who dominated both her heart and soul had made her better for the knowing of him.
“How can we take such a chance? There are too many to be hurt.” Like me, she'd thought, although she did wonder upon which choice could possibly make her future without him worse.
She cringed at the idea of what he would be able to do with his wife each night once they wed. The torture in the days to come would be set upon such thoughts each night. Could whatever they decided to do matter once that time came.
“A single decision can forever change how it is we bear the rest of our lives. We will not get the chance back. I shall be married, and you shall be gone. You have said as much, have you not?”
“Where and when?” She'd heard the words come from her mouth and chose to let them be. There would be dreadful consequences in their future either way. "Why not have a moment of pure bliss, utter happiness, before our lives are torn asunder for our remaining days."
The tears now fell freely along with her memories. Only days ago they had shared a first night of passion, as they had discussed. What was to be their first and last sexual relations had continued through successive nights. They had found more times and more ways to slip into each other's arms, naked and free.
She picked up a rose which had fallen to the floor and put it to her nose. The fragrance brought back that infamous moment when they'd first joined. Roses, much the same, he had given her on that night, too.
Even though the reminiscing grew torturous, she let herself go back to the intimate party she had attended while staying the weekend with Lord and Lady Sanderly at the grand estate of The Earl of Gainsborough. To her delight, they had found another moment to walk a garden together. This time he had begged her with his eyes and then his words. She had become momentarily hesitant about such a monumental happening, the loss of her virginity. Yet, since she knew she would suffer the loss of him the remainder of her days, knew this was probably her only chance to feel a man hard inside of her, she'd decided to be with him, whatever the cost.
“Please forgive me, but I must have you. I must make love to you,” he had begged.
“I want the same, but it feels most improper, still. Years of teachings, I suppose, of how to be a proper lady.”
“I can feel the heat radiating off of you. I know you want me.”
She blushed, not understanding how he could have known of the wet heat building thick in her core, making her damp with desires she had only heard about.
“Your blushing tells me I am right.” He'd answered for her.
“My blushing is only confirmation of your sincere impropriety,” she countered, not meaning the words.
“You want me.”
“How can I want what I know not of?”
It had been a lie, of course. She had studied the grimoires of many witches who had written of using the energy gotten of sex to power spells. She had become mesmerized in all of the lurid details, feeling her body tingle and pulse much like it did in that moment.
“Say yes. Please! I apologize, I know it is more than owed you, but I can’t help myself. It is as though you have bewitched me, and I can’t hold back my desires.”
She had gone stiff at his use of the word bewitched. She recollected the raw lust coming from him as something she had never felt, even around the most lecherous of men.
Did I do something unknowingly to him? She fretted the idea now as she did then. Could it be why he wanted me? Did he not have his own true lusts and desires? The mere thought threw her make into the memory.
“I am sorry. I won’t ask again. Relax.” He had rubbed her arms, sending the warm remnants of friction meddled with touch through her body. “I will gain control over myself somehow.”
She had seen the obvious bulge in his trousers and turned to go, despite her decision for no explicable reason, until he had released a moan of anguish.
“I am afraid,” she offered.
“I won’t hurt you anymore than nature necessitates.”
“I don’t understand why I am even considering throwing away a lifetime of propriety on this moment. It is insane.”
What if I have bewitched you, and you are not acting of your own volition? This was more the issue than the loss of her morals could ever be. Regardless, she couldn't give voice to it.
Her chest tightened, suffocating her. In her mind, she had always thought love would have no place in her magical life unless she happened upon a man with her powers. She'd thought she couldn't give herself to a man who knew not the whole of her. Men like him, normal men, could never understand. She had been through these arguments in her head a thousand times since meeting him, and she knew it was only her fears seeking them out again. Her final thoughts on the matter had not gone as such. If they could be together only once, and then she must leave him anyway, it would matter not if he knew not the truth.
She let the scene move forward once again as she brushed her fingers over the silkiness of a rose petal, lost in her recollection as if it was happening once more. She remembered their breath meshing between them, coming out fast as they stood facing each other, frozen in their desires for a brief second. His visage had been as tight as her treacherous heart in want of him. All the appropriate responses had left her, and she wondered the harm that could come of such a tryst.
“Come to me tonight after all others have retired. My door I will leave slightly ajar once the house is quiet.”
Her words had tumbled out before she had time to finish thinking upon the matter. She abruptly left him to find a quiet bench to compose herself upon.
He had done as she'd instructed. Her current existence darkened and disappeared around her once more, and she stood again across from him as he shut the door to her room that fateful night. He had been but a gentleman for one more moment.
He had proceeded to stalk her back toward the bed as he asked, “Are you sure? I may have but one last ounce of restraint to get me out of here if you are not.”
“Yes.”
The word had barely left her mouth when, in one heart-stopping expanse of time, he picked her up off of her feet and pinned her body under his. His eyes had darkened as something raged behind them. He ran his hands down her sides in a gentle caress that had an ounce of violence to it, laced within pressure and intent. She felt him holding back a huge amount of energy. The power came at her in surges, overwhelming her sensibilities and catching her breath.
On the other hand, many unfamiliar yet wondrous emotions flowed forth around her as his mouth descended upon hers. A pulse beat more frantically in her most secret of places as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her lower body more fiercely against his. Her softness gave way to his hardness, and she became as pliable as his cravat, which was falling from his neck despite all the starch. The bulge of his cock from earlier now filled the space between her thighs.
Whatever shyness, whatever reservations, they had misted from her like steam from her heated skin. She started ripping at his coat and shirt. When her hand hit the skin of his chest, a spark of electricity went through each of her fingers.
He had let go of her then, moving off of her and to her side as he started to pull on her gown. She helped him by moving as needed until he had divested her of her corset and chemise and stockings, too.
“My, but I have never seen one before so beautiful,” he had exclaimed in a faltering voice as he knelt beside her. He stared like she was food to be devoured. She had not even the will to move her head back and forth in rebuttal.
When he grabbed for his trousers, he begged, “Please don’t turn away.”
He proceeded to remove them along with his stockings and boots. His cock stood out, proudly bouncing a little with his movements. Nothing had ever prepared her for the sight of this naked ma
n in front of her. He stood there, brawn under a shroud of satin skin, with chiseled muscles accentuating each curve of his abdomen, legs, and arms. She had tried to wet her dry lips as he reached for her hand. Brushing across the curve of her belly, his touch had sent a current of electricity that set what already pulsed to twittering.
Next, he'd moved her hand to his arching erection, running her fingers over the reddened staff. The skin soft, the bulk of it proved unyielding. He guided her over him, showing her what to do, then cupped her hand and moved it to the tight sacs at its base. She touched lightly upon the tight band of skin beneath them. With his teeth clenched, he growled, alarming her with the deep animal tone as he climbed back up on the bed.
He rubbed over her breasts, making her yearn more for him in the lower regions of her body. Her nipples tightened and pebbled under his touches.
Erotic sensations mingled then merged into pure ecstasy when his mouth finally came down to suckle her. She had never felt so perfectly warm. The rhythm of his deep pants increased as she fumbled her way around his cock in an untaught manner that seemed to make it twitch in her hand. He shuddered against her.
Soon, he had moved from her reach as his kisses trailed lower. His fingers met with the curls at the apex of her thighs. They drifted over the soft folds, opening them to discover her most secret spot. Thus, he released the most wanton of desires she had no idea she even possessed. Grateful to be lying down, she feared she would swoon when she let her legs fall apart as far as they would go.
When his fingers caressed her wet skin, her hips arched up toward him. Then, he caught the swollen nub there in his lips and flicked at it with his tongue. A wave of contractions had tightened her stomach. She let free a cry which he moved up her body to stifle quickly with his mouth. His lips had been wet with her juices. The contractions continued with the fall of his erection over the highly sensitized nub. His tongue plundered her mouth.
