Page 35 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
Thoughts of such fine and tender feelings faded under the onslaught of desire, of driving need. When he was fully inside her, he paused, just for a second. Just long enough to gauge her reaction. But there was no hesitation in Violet. No reticence. She welcomed him eagerly, parting her thighs more fully. One knee hitched higher on his hip. When she did so, a gasp escaped her, her eyes fluttering closed as an expression crossed her face, transforming her into the very vision of ecstasy. It was the end of his patience, the end of his ability to maintain any semblance of self-control.
The slow and gentle pace he had intended was lost, discarded. Together, they strained against one another, finding a rhythm that had them both hurtling toward blissful release. When it claimed them, in unison, the sound of muffled sobs of pleasure echoed in the room and gradually faded into silence. A silence that signified how much everything between them had altered irrevocably.
Chapter Nineteen
Nigel Cavender was not having a good morning.
He sat in the dimly lit parlor, his usual air of self-importance thoroughly absent, his hands gripping the arms of his chair with a white-knuckled fervor.
Because the news that had just reached him was not merely unpleasant.
It was catastrophic.
Ethella, standing poised and composed by the window, exhaled sharply as she skimmed the letter their informant had sent from Alstead Manor.
“They consummated the marriage,” she murmured, the words dripping with venom.
Nigel swallowed hard.
“Well,” he muttered, forcing a weak chuckle, “I suppose that’s the end of it, then.”
Ethella turned, slowly.
Her cold, piercing gaze locked onto his, and Nigel felt his spine stiffen.
“Oh, my dear boy,” she said, her voice silk over steel, “this is only the beginning.”
Before Nigel could question her, there was another knock at the door.
A servant appeared, looking thoroughly unnerved.
“My lady,” the man said hesitantly. “Lord Eddington has arrived.”
The words sent an icy spike of dread through Nigel’s chest.
Ethella merely smiled.
“Show him in.”
Nigel cursed silently.
Because he already knew?—
This was about to become so much worse.
The morning sun had never been crueler.
It spilled through the heavy brocade curtains, casting a golden glow over the vast expanse of the ducal bedchamber, illuminating rumpled sheets, discarded garments, and the unmistakable truth of what had transpired between them.
Violet lay very still, staring at the ceiling with the sort of fixed determination one might adopt when facing the gallows.
It was done.
And yet, the world had not ended. The manor had not collapsed into ruin, the ground had not swallowed her whole. Nothing had changed. Except, of course, everything had changed. They had confessed things to one another in the night—things they yearned for both past and present, things they had thought were beyond their reach.
Could they truly set aside their years of acrimony and build a happy life together? Violet couldn’t answer that. Primarily because it wasn’t only up to her. There was another person involved, a person—not unlike herself—who had grown used tothe pointed barbs and verbal sparring that had marked the last seven years.
Beside her, Max stirred.
