Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) (13 page)

Lydia stayed up for hours waiting on word from someone—anyone—that Lilly and Olivia were safe. The decorative clock on her mantel painted with small white daisies slowly ticked as minute after minute, hour after hour passed with nothing. She hated the inaction, she hated that she
were home, sitting in her nightgown on her bed with nothing to do but imagine the worst and pray that everything was fine—had been fine—for hours, and that no one thought to tell her. She wished none of it had happened, and that Devon had come to her tonight. She wanted that more than anything.

She
sat with her knees tucked against her chest, head resting on them, and slept in small spurts. Every noise jolted her awake, only to find that no one was knocking, no one was tapping at her window. Repeatedly, she would get up and look in the hall or out her bedroom window, but every time she did, there was nothing to see. There was no footman with an urgent note, and no to-handsome-for-his-own-good green-eyed devil sneaking to her room. After hours of this torture, her body gave up and when she woke again, it was morning. The sun streaked through her lace curtains with obnoxiously cheery rays. The mantel clock displayed the time as a quarter past ten. Lydia bolted upright when she saw the time and cursed. Jumping out of bed, she threw on her dressing gown as someone knocked on her door and entered.

Her maid
, Esme, entered bearing a tray of tea and toast. Lydia froze.

“Good morning
, miss. Your mother said to wake you with breakfast.” Esme set the tray down on a small table next to the window and opened the curtains to let in more light. “It’s a beautiful day today.”

Lydia’s gaze focused on a small envelope tucked next to the plate.

“Oh, I almost forgot, a letter came for you this morning.” Esme smiled, oblivious to Lydia’s anxiety.

“Thank you
, Esme, that will be all for now,” Lydia replied tensely. She slowly walked towards the letter as Esme left the room and slowly picked it up. With cold numb fingers, she ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. Opening it, she released the breath she was holding as she recognized Olivia’s handwriting. Opening the letter fully, another tightly folded note slipped out and landed on her foot. She bent to pick it up as her eyes scanned Olivia’s carefree script. They were safe, and Lilly was married. Olivia went on about how romantic it was, how exciting the rescue was, and went on to talk about Captain Colton’s ship. A weight lifted off Lydia as she smiled and silently thanked the heavens for the safe rescue, and a wedding it seemed. Lydia wished she could have been there. Remembering the note, she set down Olivia’s letter and opened it.

Devon’s bold script was so different from his sisters.

I’m sorry I could not see you last night. You can now add pirate extraordinaire to my list of sins. I never like to keep a lady waiting. Can I see you tonight?

Lydia shivered. The fine hairs on her arms stood up in anticipation. After the excitement of last night and her fainting spell
, it wouldn’t be difficult to cry off. Their only plans had been a dinner and musicale with one of mama’s closest acquaintances. If she could convince her mother to go without her… Lydia penned a response to Olivia, promising to visit after luncheon, but how could she get a response to Devon? She added to her letter to Olivia:

Please give your brother my thanks for your safe rescue

No that would not do, she pursed her lips in thought.

Give your brother a kis

Absolutely not, what was she thinking? She crumpled up the letter and tossed it in the fire. Scribbling a new note to Olivia, she made no mention of Devon at all and left it at that. She summoned Esme, and gave her the letter to send over to Olivia post haste. An hour later, she received a response.

Mother say’s I am not allowed to receive visitors although everyone and their mother has seen fit to call. I am locked away in my tower until we leave town. It is not as if I wanted to be kidnapped
, but it seems as though I will be punished for it. Devon was disappointed you did not respond to his note, I can only guess at what he wrote mind you, but he was quite insistent I include it with my letter. If you include a note with a letter to me, I promise to give it to him, and I will not peek. You have my word. I am smuggling these letters out through my maid, Anna, for the high sum of my daffodil gown. I wore it last season. Do you remember it? She certainly has an eye for style but that’s why I love her. I don’t know when I can see you again, but I hope this mess blows over soon.

Fondly.

Olivia

Lydia’s heart sank. Olivia was banished to the country for now. It was not surprising given the scandal that would ensue
, but surely, Lydia would be able to visit? She sincerely hoped her mother would not forbid it, as well. She thought about Devon, would he leave town, as well? Olivia said she would pass along a note, does that mean she knows about them? So be it. If there were one person whom she could trust with her deepest darkest secret, it was Olivia Brentton. To Olivia she wrote that no matter what she would come and see her soon, and to Devon…

Don’t keep me waiting…

Lady Covvington went out as usual. It was no surprise Lydia was not up to it
, and she did not argue. A quiet evening at home would be restorative.

Lydia rejoiced when she waved farewell to her mother and watched the door close behind her
, but did not show it. She returned to her room, ate by herself, and then settled in her bed with a book. The staff carried on as usual, retired early, and celebrated an evening off from their usual duties. Lydia tried to absorb herself in her book, but her eyes wandered to the clock on her mantel repeatedly. Lydia did not know when her mother would return, although it would be after midnight. She was attending a musicale given by the Duchess of Summersong and generally stayed to play cards. They had been girlhood friends and attended the same finishing academy. Her visits tended to be long when she visited the Duchess.

The clock struck ten as Lydia watched the second hand tic
-tic-tic. When there was a light scratching at her door, her heart stopped. Her whole body came alive with awareness as she gently slid off the bed, and donned her dressing gown. Pushing her thick braid of hair over her shoulder, she opened the door just a crack.

“Did you think I was a mouse?” Devon whispered.

She could not see him in the pitch-black hall. She opened the door and he stepped into her room. As she closed the door and locked it, her heart kicked in to a rapid rhythm. His eyes touched on everything: the white marble fireplace, snapping and popping cheerily as if happy to see him, the papered walls covered in an elegant pattern white on white, her elegant but simply designed furniture, also white, the thick rug patterned with blues and greens and speckled with daisies. Her mantle clock, the perfumes on her vanity, and finally her bed. A pristine white coverlet and pillows over hung by silvery blue velvet drapes.

It was a room just like her
. At first glance, you saw pristine beauty, elegance, and purity. All the things Lydia exuded to the world, but then when one looked closer you saw the real her, the daisies hiding in little places here and there, a figuring of a kitten batting at a ball of yarn, stacks of books, the things that made up all she was on the inside, her secrets, her dreams. He turned to look at her and time stopped.

For just a
moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of twin breaths going in and out. They watched each other and waited. His eyes darted over her simple dressing gown, a virginal white with little daisies embroidered down the front. Her hands tangled nervously with the sash as she looked down in embarrassment.

“I gather the usual women you meet at
night have something more stimulating on.”

“Hush,” he soothed as he stepped close to her and took her hands. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen
, and I will never look at daisies the same again.” He brought her hands up, and kissed each hand before pulling her towards the bed.

Lydia’s
eyebrows shot up, but he only pushed her to sit, and sat down beside her. He seemed so much bigger inside her room. He was so dark and vivid compared to the pale colors. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she drank in his face and the simple dark clothing he wore.

“Did yo
u have any engagements tonight?” She nervously made small talk. She had no idea what to do or say when one invited a man into one’s room.

“No, as you can imagine, all Brentton’s will be laying low for a while. I’ll be heading to the country with the family for the summer. We’re thinking of taking Olivia to the continent for diversion. She has neve
r been very good at rusticating, that’s if there are not certain engagements to plan and execute.”

He looked at her with something in his eyes
, and Lydia was afraid she understood what he meant but pretended not to, because she didn’t want to go down that road until she had to.

“
I see,” Lydia gave a small smile; she leaned forward inviting him to kiss her. Devon looked down at her lips, and unquestioningly, obliged her by pulling her close and setting his lips to hers. Lydia gave herself to the kiss—body, mind, and soul. This night was only about the two of them. Nothing else mattered but the feel of his arms around her, and the passion that grew inexplicably between them. Tonight, she would give him every part of herself, and she would memorize every part of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her body up against him, aching to be closer to him. He crushed her against him in return, and fell back on the bed, pulling her over him.

Lydia at once broke from the kiss and started unbuttoning his
waistcoat.

“Slow down
, love,” Devon chuckled. He sat up again and began to shrug off his jacket as Lydia continued to undo his waistcoat and start on his shirt.

Her fingers nervously struggled
. “Blasted buttons,” she cursed them.

Devon chuckl
ed and took her hands in his. “We don’t have to do this, Lydia, I can wait for you,” he met her gaze.

If Lydia didn’t love him
already, she would have fallen head over heels for him right then. She could feel his arousal, and it excited her, but in his eyes, she could see how much he felt for her. His eyes spoke of comfort and concern, of love, and tenderness, and inside her, her heart beat for him, and only him. She smiled, shocked to feel the burn of tears in her eyes, but she was happy, so happy that it sang in her veins, wanting to burst from her like rays from the sun.

“I can’t wait for you
, Devon, I want you now,” she stated boldly. Giving herself to him was as right as breathing.

His eyes darkened into a deep green.
If possible, he became harder beneath her, and she undid the rest of the buttons with slow deliberate fingers. The two halves draped open, and Lydia took her fill of his bare chest, reaching out with just her fingertips to touch and then push his shirt wider and over his shoulders. At the same time, he pulled open her robe and untied the ribbon cinching the top of her nightgown. It loosened and he pulled it open until he exposed her breasts. He lovingly touched them, worshiped them with his hands, his thumbs, molded them, and then dipped his head to taste them.

Lydia gasped as she clung to his shoulders
, allowing him to do as he pleased. He bathed her with his tongue until her skin was pink and dewy and her nipples pebbled. He slid the gown and robe down her shoulders as she pulled her arms free. He fully removed his shirt pulling it from his breeches, and then pulled Lydia close, luxuriating in the feel of skin-to-skin. Lydia reveled in it, also. She gloried in every way he touched her, even tilting her hips to grind against his hardness to sooth the unstoppable need inside her. He responded by trusting back and groaning fiercely each time he grabbed her hips and held her hard against him. It was not long before they were panting with need and unspent lust.

“I don’t want to rush this,” he growled in frustration.

“We don’t have much time, Devon. We have to take this moment now,” Lydia urged.

He rolled
, pinning her beneath him and sliding her nightgown over her hips and onto the floor. “I want to make love to you all night, Lydia, for eternity.” He looked down at her body, now bared to him in the dim glow from the fire and two bedside candles.

“All we have is now,”
she pleaded with him. She was not embarrassed to be naked in front of him. The way he was looking at her made her feel like the most beautiful and wanted woman in the world. His hands reached to undo his breeches as his eyes worshiped her from head to toe. He eased them down over his hips and Lydia held her breath as the fine dark hairs trickling from his navel directed her gaze lower. Reaching his knees, he stopped to pull off first one boot and then the other. His manhood jutted out, engorged and firm. His legs were lean and corded in muscle. Lydia’s eyes roamed everywhere, and she wished they did have all night. There was no way she could be satisfied with exploring his body in the limited time they had.

“Turn and
slide back on the bed,” he directed her as he climbed up over her. She adjusted the pillows behind her head, and he looked down at her with hungry anticipation. He trailed his fingers from her left ankle to her knee and pushed it up and wide. He did the same with her left knee leaving her bare to his gaze, every secret uncovered. She shivered uncontrollably, watching him with eyes filled with need. He held her gaze as he bent forward. “Whatever you do, don’t move. I promise you will love every second of this.”

Lydia nodded. Her body was strung so tight from the sheer anticipation of their lovemaking it took all her concentration to be still. He bent lower
, gently parting her folds with one hand, kissing her in the most intimate way imaginable. Lydia felt like jumping out of her skin. She jerked when he first touched her, but the sensation was so exquisite her body immediately complied to receive more. He placed both hands under her hips to hold her while he feasted. Lydia gripped the coverlet with white knuckles as he tasted and licked her most delicate and private place. Every caress shot liquid heat through her body and only made her want more. Uncontrollable moans and gasps began to escape her as Devon skillfully teased and soothed her delicate flesh.

She tasted like sweet nectar, a taste he never wanted to forget until the day he died. He entered her with two finger
s, stretching her passage and preparing her for what was to come. He stroked her rhythmically in time with her own trusts, working her into a frantic dance of want and need. His own desire was raging. It was taking all his self-control to go slow, and to make sure she was ready for him.

“Devon,” she moaned, her eyes closed tightly. It was all she could do, caught up as she was in her
body’s desires.

He could push her to climax
, but he wanted to be inside her for that pivotal moment. He wanted to feel her release all around him and drink it in. He moved up and positioned himself at her entrance lifting her hips with one hand as he slowly penetrated her. She arched as he entered her, tensing and squeezing him unmercifully.

“God
, Lydia, you have to relax, sweetheart,” he panted as little by little he thrust, sliding back and forth, telling her body what his wanted, what hers wanted. Lydia relaxed a little, easing his passage and allowing him to breach that final barrier. They both took a deep breath, pausing to appreciate the new sensation of being joined together, of being one.

So many sensations and emotions collided together inside Lydia. She looked up at him, tense and flushed above her
, and imprinted the image on her mind. His eyes glittered in the dim light, entrancing her in their depths, and holding her as he slowly began to move. He bore his weight on his left arm and hooked his other arm under her left knee bringing it higher. They moved in rhythm, give and take, holding tightly to each other, sharing each breath. The cadence of his thrust increased slowly as little moans and gasps escaped unbidden. Lydia was completely absorbed in him. He encompassed all of her senses and infiltrated every part of her heart and mind. She could not look away from him despite the urge to close her eyes and give into the inferno of desire threatening to overtake her. She was desperate to stay with him, to stay in the moment, and not miss a single second of him over her, around her, and inside her.

Her climax was sudden and unexpected. It crashed on her like waves on jagged rocks and she screamed. Devon covered her mouth with his to smother her cries of release lest they be heard and concerned servants come to investigate. He followed her quickly
, unable to stem his own overwhelming tide of completion.

He collapsed on top of her
after releasing her leg and exhaling heavily. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly, and burying her face in his neck.

“I’m crushing you,” he said into her hair.

“No, I like it,” she murmured against him. “I want to remember you like this forever.”

“You don’t have to remember me, you have me for forever
.” He nuzzled her hair, inhaling the scent of them.

Lydia didn’t speak but instead
, just breathed the scent of his skin. Already the pleasure of the moment was receding and reality was creeping in like a thief, stealing the happiness and joy from the room.

Devon felt the cold clammy fingers of warning in his mind. Lydia was tense beneath him and as he rolled away from her and looked into her
eyes, he saw her try to blink away the pain. “What is wrong, Lydia? You’re hiding something from me, I can feel it.”

“I am not hiding anything; you refuse to see the impossibility of the situation.”

“What impossibility? We will be married. I thought that’s why you invited me here tonight, to show that you had chosen me, and that you wanted me.”

“I do want you
, Devon, but I don’t have a choice,” she rolled away from him, covered herself with the coverlet, and curled into a ball.

Devon stared at her
, unbelieving of what he was seeing and hearing with his own senses. She used him. Gave herself to him for her own pleasure. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, and his vision blurred with rage. His breathing sounded harsh in his ears, but slowly he moved out of the bed and put on his breeches. He wanted to shout, to yell, to break things, and to curse the world, but most of all he wanted to hurt her, and he hated himself for it. He wanted to lash out at her and see her flinch. With deliberate movements, he harnessed his anger and put on his boots and shirt.