Page 61 of My Dark Duke

The carriage drew to a halt at the circular courtyard by the front entrance. At its centre was a stone fountain, its trickling water a compliment to the spring sounds of bird calls and insects.

Sebastian did not wait for the footman to open the door, he did so himself, leaping forward with enthusiasm. He held a hand out to Lillian to help her down, but to her surprise, he did not allow her feet to touch the floor.

Instead, he swept her into his arms and proceeded to the front door - intent on carrying her across the threshold. Much like the servants in Thorncastle House, the servants of Chawton House were lined up to greet them in the entrance hall.

Lillian heard a few giggles from the maids, as they witnessed Sebastian’s public display of mischief, but she did not mind.

“Mrs Buckley,” Sebastian called to a stout woman of middling years,. “Might we wait until tomorrow to do the introductions? My wife is tired after a long journey.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs Buckley answered, smiling warmly Lillian’s way. “I’ll send one of the maids up to fill Her Grace’s bath in her dressing room.”

“Very good,” Sebastian answered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

With strong arms, Sebastian carried Lillian across the entrance hall towards the dark, mahogany staircase. He carried her up the stairs, past the portraits of Thorncastles past, which lined the walls, their way illuminated by a bronze chandelier.

Within her chest, Lillian’s heart beat a tattoo of anticipation; soon she would feel her husband’s touch upon her skin. She allowed her hand to rest on his broad chest, coyly toying with the buttons of his coat.

“Here we are,” Sebastian said, as they reached a set of double doors. “Your chambers, dear wife.”

He pushed the door open to reveal a large room, with a grand four-poster bed at its centre. A fire blazed happily in the hearth, while the door to the adjoining room lay open, revealing her dressing room.

Sebastian crossed the floor and placed her down upon the bed, so gently it was as though he feared she was made of glass.

“I shall have to bathe,” Lillian apologised, for she felt dusty after their long drive.

“Of course,” he answered, as he placed a kiss upon her forehead. “I shall have the kitchen send you up some spiced milk when you’re done.”

Spiced milk? Lillian wrinkled her nose at the idea, but was unable to argue, for a knock came upon the door and a line of young maids arrived with water for her bath.

She took her time bathing, luxuriating in the warm water. When she was done, she massaged oils and lotions into her skin, before dressing in the nightrail which Polly had ordered be made for the wedding night.

Its skirts were made of silk, the bodice of flimsy lace, which only scantily covered her breasts. In the mirror, Lillian could see her nipples were clearly visible; on another day, she might have blushed, but this was her wedding night…

Nervous a servant might still remain in the bedchamber, she donned a dressing gown for modesty. However, when she pushed the door open, she found only Sebastian present.

He was seated in the Queen Ann by the fireplace, dressed in loose breeches and a shirt.

“I brought your milk,” he said, standing as she entered the room.

He gestured to the table, where a steaming cup of spiced milk awaited her.

“You must be tired after the long day,” he continued, stepping forward and cradling her face. “Drink this up and go to sleep; I shall be in the next room if you need me.”

“Go to sleep?” she echoed, dumbly.

He nodded, as he tenderly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s our wedding night, Sebastian,” she protested. “I do not wish to sleep - I wish to be bedded by my husband.”

His posture stiffened as his face assumed the look of a tortured man. “I want nothing more than to bed you,” he confessed. “But, I am afraid that I might hurt you, or the baby…”

He stepped back, as though even admitting his desire aloud might harm her. Lillian smothered a smile, touched by his concern.

“You won’t,” she assured him, reaching out a hand to touch his chest. “I swear to you.”

He shivered at her touch, his arousal now visible in his breeches, yet still he hesitated. Sensing his resolve was weakening, Lillian allowed her nightgown to slip from her shoulders, revealing her scandalous nightrail.

“Take me,” she whispered. “Take me as your wife.”

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