Hugh took a step forward. ‘You bastard. You would question my honour.’
‘I know what it looks like when a man burns with jealousy, Kendal. I’m not blind.’
‘And I know what it looks like when a man is gazing at a woman in a way that suggests he has taken her to bed.’
‘Are you accusing me of being bedded by my husband?’ Beatrice asked. ‘As if you have a say in that. As if it is yours to know? Because that is too far, Hugh. Even for you, it is too far. You may not control my life. You do not get a say in what I can endure.’
‘Having a child could kill you.’
‘Yes. But being married to Briggs and not having him would have killed me as well. Oh, I might’ve still drawn breath, but my broken heart would have hurt every time it beat.’
Hugh took a step back, a muscle jumping in his jaw. But he was only shocked enough to be set back for a moment. ‘He is not a knight of the round table, Beatrice. He is a dragon. And you will end up burned.’
‘Perhaps I like dragons. And fire in equal measure. You think me weak,’ she said. ‘And if you insist on inserting yourself into my life, then you will discover things that you may not wish to know. Not the least of which because you do not wish to know such things about your sister, but because you do not wish to find out you are wrong, and I think perhaps that is the thing that will burn the most. Do you think I fear the things that he wants? I run towards them. There are many things you don’t know about me.’
‘And you know exactly why his first wife died?’
Briggs took a step forward. ‘That is too far.’
‘If you laid a hand on my sister in the way you handle your whores then you have gone too far.’
‘You would rather I stay married to a man who must seek out pleasure at a brothel, rather than giving myself to him? Even if it is what I want?’
‘You cannot...’
‘I cannot understand? I was bled. My skin was cut open, my... The process of saving my life was nothing but pain. Pain and isolation. What I wish to do with that life should be up to me. The cost that it took to get me here... You do not get to say how I will live. It is not your decision to make. And you will not speak so to my husband.’
‘If you put my sister’s life at risk, I can no longer call you a friend.’
‘If you care so little for her happiness then perhaps I can no longer call you one either.’
And that was not even considering the fact that he had brought Serena into it. Her death. And his every feeling of guilt on the subject. ‘Come, Beatrice. I think it is time we went home.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
But not before she put her hand on his face and kissed him boldly on the mouth. ‘I should like to go home.’
She walked past Kendal without giving him a glance, and back into the ballroom.
Kendal stopped him with a hand on his chest. ‘This is a betrayal.’
‘It does not surprise me,’ Briggs said, his chest feeling cut open. ‘But in the end of all things, you find me as repellent as all others I have once called friends and family. But she does not.’
‘For now.’
‘For now,’ Briggs said.
‘And if she has a child, and she dies...’
The words stabbed straight through his chest. A knife to his heart. It was a deep fear, one that left him gasping for breath.
But he had seen her. What she wanted. What she was capable of.
What she craved.
He knew she would never be happy with half a life.
She wanted it all.
He would be damned if he was the one that kept her in chains.
‘I will never forgive myself. But you have the luxury of turning her into an object. Of turning her into a child that you must guide and care for. I have a child. I have a son, and I know the difference between being a father and being a husband. I am not her brother. I am not her father. She is my wife. And I am her life sentence.’
‘Better than being her gallows.’
‘She is not a child. I cannot look at her day in and day out and feel pleased with sentencing her to have a life where she is treated like she is weak and like she does not know her own desires.’
‘That is a very noble way of saying you cannot control your cock.’
‘Perhaps I cannot. Perhaps I want her. But you will find that she is not upset about that either. All she wanted was a Season, Kendal. For a man to look at her across the room and want her. I want her. She and I have been shaped and forged in a particular sort of fire, and I suppose the end result is that we suit each other better than we could’ve imagined. I am not ashamed of it. I refuse to be.’
‘I wash my hands of you.’
‘Then you wash your hands of her as well. For she is my wife. She is my family now. I protect mine.’
He walked away then, leaving behind the only real friend he had ever had.
And when he exited the ballroom, he saw her standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. And he realised... He had her now. Whatever else.
In this moment. He had her.
They got into the carriage together, and she put her hand on his thigh. More of that casual sort of touch that lit him from within. ‘I’m sorry,’ Beatrice said. ‘That was a terrible thing for him to say. It was a terrible thing for him to do. You are an honourable man, Briggs...’
‘I’m not,’ Briggs said. ‘He is right. If I had honour, I wouldn’t have touched you. But I did not have honour, what I had was a desire to see you happier than you were. And I wanted you. It was that simple.’
‘I am not sorry about it.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘He should not have brought up your wife.’
No. But perhaps now was the time when he should speak to Beatrice about it.
But he did not. He did not. Instead when they got home they did not speak. He pulled her into his arms, and made a particularly punishing night of it.
* * *
The next day, she set out to find a physician to speak to.
And Briggs decided to have a picnic indoors with William.
‘Where are your cards, William?’ he asked, when they were midway through their meal and he realised that his son had not produced them.
‘I do not play with them any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘I know all the answers on them. They’re in my head. Where no one can see.’
Briggs felt a twist of regret inside him.
And there were so many things he wanted to say, but he did not know how to say them.
He thought of what his own father would’ve done, but he couldn’t even get that far, because his father would not have been here sitting on the floor with him.
He did not know how to do this. He did not know how to... How to be the right thing for people. And he was trying. Trying for Beatrice, because she deserved it. But the cost was losing Hugh’s friendship. He did not know how to protect his son, and make it feel like there was nothing wrong with him. He did not know what things to share of himself and what things to hold back. He did not understand how to make Briggs be a good father.
May I call you Philip?
No.
What sort of father would Philip have been? What if he turned around and started talking about orchids?
It was exhausting. This.
And he did not know the way around it.
* * *
Beatrice returned home; she was pale and large-eyed.
‘How was your visit with the physician?’ he asked.
‘He said that there is always risk in having a child. And he cannot guarantee any woman that she will survive.’
Briggs laughed. But there was no humour in it. ‘Quite a measured response.’
‘He does not see why I should be any more vuln
erable than any other woman. We talked extensively about my issues. The malady in my lungs, and how it has not been as bad in recent years. He said he does sometimes see this. The children who survive a childhood such as mine, with lungs that close off, sometimes fare much better as adults. He said it is difficult to get a firm grasp on how many, because very often they do not survive childhood.’
‘I see.’
‘He thinks that we can have a baby.’
He very suddenly, very fiercely did not wish to share her.
‘Perhaps some day.’
‘That is all right,’ she said. ‘I do not need one now. But I would like for there to be no restraint between us. At least tonight.’
Desire was a beast inside him. He knew what she was asking. And tonight... Tonight he felt willing, more than willing, to take the risk. ‘Philip,’ she said. ‘I wish for you to take me to bed.’
It was still not yet dark, but he did not care. He picked her up, right there in the entry, and carried her up the stairs, in full view of all the servants, who undoubtedly knew exactly what he intended for his Duchess. He did not care. He simply did not care. For he was out of restraint. There was none left within him. And he wished to revel in that.
He had lost one of the most important people in his life for this. For her.
And he would make the decision again. Perhaps Kendal was right. And he simply had no control over his cock. But it felt like more. It felt deeper. ‘Strip for me, little one.’
And she did, with no hesitation. Removing her layers with a coy look in her eye.
She gloried in his gaze. And it made him feel like a god. She was a lady. Gently bred, cosseted too. And she would be brazen for him.
‘On your knees,’ he said.
She approached him, dropping to her knees in front of him, her eyes intent on his. This was nothing like the studied submission of a whore. But a gift. A gift to him that he was not certain he deserved. No. He was certain he did not.
Because she did not know about Serena. Not the whole truth of it.
He freed himself from his breeches, gripped the back of her head and guided her to him, roughly thrusting inside her mouth.
As ever, she gave in to him. With absolute freedom.
Seeming to revel in all that he was.
He stopped her before he could come. Before he ended things.
Then he picked her up and moved her to the bed, depositing her on her knees and pressing his hand firmly between her shoulder blades, so that her breasts were against the mattress. And her ass was up in the air. She was lovely like this. And he did not think he would ever get enough.
‘Is this what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘You want me,’ he said. ‘You want me, and all that I am?’ He brought his palm down hard on the plump global flesh, leaving a bright red mark behind.
She squirmed against him, the yelp that she made more one of pleasure than pain. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘For the rest of your life. You want me?’
‘Yes,’ she said in time with another strike of his hand.
‘He was right. I am depraved. And you know that makes you depraved right along with me.’
‘Yes,’ she said. He timed it with another firm smack. Over and over until her every breath was in affirmation. Until she was marked by him.
Until she was shaking. And so was he.
‘Philip,’ she said. ‘Please, Philip.’
And it was balm for his soul that she used his name. Because right in this moment he did not feel confused. Whether he was Philip or Briggs.
He was hers.
He pressed himself up against the wet entrance of her body and thrust hard. Claiming her over and over again, the only sound in the room flesh striking against flesh. And when her pleasure exploded around him, he could not keep himself back any longer. He released hold of his control. And he let himself spill inside her.
‘Philip,’ she whispered. ‘Philip, I love you.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Beatrice was rocked. Utterly shaken.
In the space of just a few hours she had found out that she could have a baby, had seduced her husband, and had told him that she loved him.
She was laying there in the aftermath of their desire, shattered and terrified. For she had not meant to say aloud that she loved him. Not yet.
But she could not keep it in. Not any more.
She was not... She was not sorry. She was not sad. It felt right. This. No matter what happened.
‘I love you.’
‘Love,’ he said. ‘I do not... I do not even understand what that means.’
‘You do not understand what love means?’
‘I do not understand what it has to do with this.’
‘It has everything to do with this. You are my husband. My lover. My friend. I love you.’
‘You love me,’ he said, his tone sardonic. ‘I do not think you do. Moreover, I do not wish to have this conversation. It is... It is foolish.’
‘What is foolish about it?’
‘No one has ever loved me. No one. No one has ever said those words to me.’
‘Briggs,’ she said. Her heart squeezed. ‘Philip.’
‘Do not call me that.’
‘You have no issue with me calling you that when you’re inside me.’ She moved away from him, swinging her legs over the side of the bed frame and standing.
‘It’s different.’ He sat up, getting out of bed and standing with the expanse of mattress between them.
‘Philip, just because your father could not understand you...’
‘You are not the least bit curious what your brother meant when he spoke of my wife?’
‘I do not wish to pry. You have not shared about your wife and...’
‘Serena did not die of some ailment. Serena took a bath and cut her wrists open with broken glass.’
Beatrice took a step backwards, her heart slamming against her breastbone. ‘Philip...’
‘Do you know why? Do you know why she needed to get away from me? I discussed it with her. She never loved me, Beatrice. But I thought that we could still be friends. I thought that we could... I was so young, and I believed, I truly believed in my heart that my wife would be fashioned for me in some way. That she would understand me. We were not friends. She despised me. She could not see a way to escape me.’
‘Briggs, I know you. I know you, and I know you never did anything to harm your wife. I know you would never have forced yourself on her.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Knowing what kind of monster I was disgusted her so much that she could not look at me. She could scarcely share the same space as me.’
‘I do not believe it. I do not believe that she left this world simply because of what you wished to do in bed.’
‘It is not that. It is merely a facet. It is the whole of who I am that is wrong. My father was ashamed of me. So ashamed that he wouldn’t send me to school. My own wife could not bear me. And now you want to tell me that you love me? You, who married me because you were caught with me when you did not intend to be.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Because perhaps I was meant to be your wife all along. You were right, Philip. There was a woman who would love you exactly as you are. For your orchids and your punishments. For the way you make her feel.’ She looked down at her body, at the bruises left on her skin, fingerprints that lingered from his touch. And they marked her. As his. As strong.
‘You were the only one who saw the warrior that I wanted to be. You are the only one who treats me like I am not broken. So do not now reject my love. Do not now tell me that I am not strong enough for you.’
‘You do not understand.’
‘I do understand. But you do not like to be Philip because you still think that he is a little boy who could
not be loved. And so you became Briggs because you thought that he might be someone that people would accept. The Duke of Brigham. But I love every piece of you. I love you and your being a cordial rake, and I love you when you are in your greenhouse. And I love the way that you are with your son. With our son. I love him. Because he is a piece of you. Delightful and different and nothing at all to be ashamed of. In the exact same way that you are.’
‘It is different...’
‘It is not different. Would you ever look at William and tell him that he did not deserve to be loved? Would you ever tell him that he was so wrong...?’
‘No. And you know I would not.’
‘I know. So why do you do the same to yourself?’
‘Because I...’
‘Philip. Do you hate yourself so much, that you would punish yourself unto the end?’
He bowed his head for a moment, and then he turned away from her. ‘Beatrice, I have wronged you. For I cannot be the man that you wish me to be. I cannot be what you desire. I can give you pleasure. But no more.’
‘Can I give you my love?’
He shuddered. ‘I cannot.’
‘You cannot accept it. I... I am wounded by that. I will not tell you any lies. But I have spent my life locked away.’ Even as she said it, she felt a deep pain stabbed her chest. ‘I have spent my life being protected from all manner of pain. And you know that I now have come to seek it out. Oh, Briggs, I have felt so endlessly lost. So endlessly isolated. And I would rather stand here and live this moment than go back to Bybee House. I would rather love you and all this pain. I would rather love William. I would rather risk. And I will keep loving you.’
‘Until you don’t.’
His voice was flat. And he walked away. And Beatrice collapsed at the foot of the bed, weeping piteously. She felt... Utterly sad for him. For them. For all that they could be.
For all that he could have.
And even within the depths of her despair. She realised.
She was at war now. For his heart. For his very soul.
You always thought that you were strong enough to do this. You must not crumple now.
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 42
