A flicker of unreadable emotion, and then Kitty’s beautiful countenance contorted into an ugly sneer. “I don’t have to stay here and listen to this. Do you know why I came to this godforsaken castle? Because no one else would, not even your own husband! I am the only one who has been there for you, despite you not being there for me when I needed you most!”
“When you needed me most?” Mara’s brow creased as she tried to remember an instance that shehadn’tstepped in and taken a blow meant for her smaller sister. She hadn’t caught all of them. Sometimes, when their father’s fists had rained down like hammers, it had been all she could do to save herself. But she’d tried. She’d always tried, often at the expense of herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No,” Kitty said shrilly, “youdon’tknow. Because you left to marry a duke! You left me, and what do you think he did when you were gone? Why do you think I got married so quickly, and to anearl?”
Water splashed over the sides of the tub as Mara sat up. “I thought you loved William. I had no idea—”
“You’re right, you didn’t, because you weren’t there.” Twin blotches of red appeared high on Kitty’s cheekbones. “I’m glad that you got out. I am. I’m even glad that you’re a duchess, althoughyoudon’t seem to be. But that is the extent of mygladness. Love? Love has never hadanythingto do with my marriage. Goodbye, Mara. I hope that Ambrose recovers. But when he does, I won’t be here to see it.”
She bolted from the room, leaving Mara stunned and speechless in water that had already started to turn cold. Summoning a maid, she remained quiet as she donned fresh clothes including a blue dress with white trim at the elevated waistline and sleeves that extended to the elbow. A comb worked out the worst of the tangles from her hair before she had the maid plait it down the middle of her back. A few bites of meat and cheese, as much to appease Agnes as to fill her own stomach, and she returned promptly to Ambrose’s bedchamber.
“Has there been any change?” she asked quietly.
“No, Your Grace.” Agnes shook her head. “No change.”
The drapes were drawn, giving the illusion that the duke was merely taking a mid-afternoon nap as opposed to being lost to the sleep of the dead. When Mara touched his arm, his skin was cool, and she nodded at the hearth where the logs had dwindled to deep red pieces of charred wood.
“A bigger fire, please. Then you can leave us.”
“Your Grace,” Agnes began, her expression troubled, but Mara deliberately turned her head away.
“I’d like to be alone with my husband.”
“...yes, Your Grace.”
*
Ambrose was havingthe most decadent dream.
It was late at night, the moon a ghostly circle in an otherwise dark and clear sky. He was in his room, sleeping, when a scent woke him.
Lilacs.
The air smelled of lilacs.
Shadows parted from his path as he strode, clothed in only a pair of loose-fitting trousers, through the blue room and into his wife’s private chamber. She slept on her side with her hands pressed together beneath her cheek and her curls a tumble of red across a white pillowcase, the very picture of angelic beauty.
He must have made a sound, some creak of a floorboard, because her eyes suddenly opened. She stared at him, and he waited for her rebuke, but it never came. Instead, she propped up on her elbow, sending the thin blanket she wore slithering to her waist... revealing naked breasts with dusky-tipped nipples all but begging for his touch.
“Ambrose,” she said, her voice husky from sleep. “I was waiting for you.”
He was hard as a pike before he reached her, the top of his cock straining against the waistband of his trousers. She took him in a firm grasp when he mounted her, running her hand along the pulsing length of his erection, and on a groan he kissed her, his tongue finding a familiar home inside of her sweet, sweet mouth.
Kicking the blanket aside, he worked his lips down her body, the heels of his hands pressing firmly on her hips when she tried to arch off the mattress. “Mine,” he growled possessively, laying claim to her slick curls and small pearl hidden amidst them.
Nails raked at his shoulders as he tasted her, licked her, nibbled her. As he drove her right to the edge and then yanked her ruthlessly back, drawing out her passion into an endless stream of highs and lows andalmosts.
“Ambrose. Ambrose, p-please.”
Only when she begged, only when her head thrashed, only when her eyes glazed over, did he grant her the mercy of relenting. Spreading her wet desire onto his fingers, he coated himself with it, indulging in a hard, fast pump from base to tip that nearly had him coming into his own palm.
Rolling her onto her side, he positioned himself behind her, his arm reaching around her waist to hold her snugly against the crook of his loins. “Bend your leg, love. Yes,” he groaned, his jaw clenching when the new angle allowed his cock to slowly slide into her tight, velvety quim. “Yes, just like that.”
He cupped her breast as he drove into her, then fanned his fingers between her legs and teased her clitoris as he withdrew. Fire ignited in his belly when she rubbed her bottom against him and he filled her again, hard and fast and deep.
Mine.
Mine.
