Page 24 of Bride of the Fae Duke

‘I was entirely unprepared, two days ago,’ she said, straightening her spine. It had been barely an hour after her wedding. Not even a full day after the proposal that had led to said wedding. ‘I’m sure it will all be much easier to handle now, with some planning and Mrs. Hartnell to guide me through it.’

‘I see.’ He sighed, looking far from reassured. ‘As you wish, then. I will discuss the matter with Othrys when I next see him.’

‘Much obliged,’ Nellie said and beamed at him, then bounced out of the room feeling much more well-disposed towards the pitiful dried flowers in the hallway.

‘Walford said something about house improvements,’ Locke said as he stood thrusting into her that night, her upper body draped over his desk, his hands rough and bruising on her hips. His voice made a good attempt to sound conversational, yet the strain was unmistakable – an edge of fraying self-control. ‘I assume you’ve been having thoughts again?’

Nellie laughed, then couldn’t help but moan as his next stroke hit deep injustthe right place, the cold scales on his length adding an addictive complexity to every sensation. Her fingersclutched tighter around the edge of the desk, holding on for dear life. ‘I’m afraid –oh– I’m afraid I have, yes.’

‘Of course you have.’ His next thrust drove even deeper – as if to punish her for the audacity. ‘Why, though? Seems unlikely you’ll live here long enough to profit from it.’

‘Yes, but—Oh.’ Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as he shifted his hips and slammed into her again, finding an angle that hit entirely new devastating spots. ‘Do that again, please. I—Yes—’

There was little joy in his guttural laughter, but she thought she detected an undercurrent of satisfaction all the same as he complied, reducing her once again to wordless gasping. ‘Last one. You’re not getting more until I have my answers, Eleanor.’

‘What answers?’ she panted.

He slid out of her in response, growling a laugh at her squeal of outrage. ‘Turn onto your back.’

‘Oh no,’ she muttered, obliging as well as her shaking limbs allowed. Around her, documents lay strewn over the wooden surface like leaves blown about by the wind. Her husband towered over her, his waistcoat still buttoned, his cravat still tied; only his breeches had been opened, his member protruding with obscene hardness from that gentlemanly façade. ‘So you can glower at me more intimidatingly?’

‘That is exactly what I was planning to do.’ He wrapped his hands around her thighs, then lifted them, guiding her legs to rest against his shoulders before settling his tip against her entrance. ‘Why are you so concerned about the state of this house?’

She squirmed, trying in vain to get him closer. ‘Anne hates living here.’

‘Ah.’ Locke seemed unfazed by the news as he glared down at her, eyes narrowed, brows drawn close. ‘And that is all?’

‘And I need some way to spend my time,’ Nellie admitted, clawing at his waistcoat. He pulled back slightly in revenge. ‘Because – oh,damnyou – buying dresses will get boring, and if my only diversion is tupping my husband – which, to make things worse, he is currently explicitlypreventing…’

He barked out another mirthless laugh and slid back into her, the sheer girth of him almost robbing her of speech again. ‘Your husband wouldn’t mind diverting you a little more often, if necessary.’

‘Don’t you—Oh!’ She arched off the hard desk, body pleading for more, more,moreof that devastating hardness inside her. ‘Don’t youwantme to work on the house?’

He drew out almost entirely, then drove himself back into her in a single punishing stroke, his hands on her hips dragging her even closer. Nellie cried out again. Vaguely, she registered a pile of paper thudding to the ground as she flailed for grip, for some semblance of control; then he pounded back into her, and all thought evaporated. Divines help her, how could he be so utterly all-consuming, this man she didn’t even know – how could he be so utterlyblissful?

‘Avoiding … answers,’ she gasped between thrusts, eyes fluttering shut. ‘Don’t … you …’

‘I’m avoiding the past,’ he growled, and at once the restraint shattered, his ragged breaths punctuating each word. His thumb found the little bud between her lips, rubbing it ferociously. ‘I’m avoiding the fucking heartache. It’s staining every inch of this place, and you might drag it all back into the light, you impossible little—’

Pleasure washed over her.

She cried out, clenching tight around him. He pounded into her convulsing body once, twice more, then followed her over the edge with a snarled curse, his hot seed filling her insticky waves – his outburst lost in breathless pants, his words punching through to her dazed, lust-fogged mind only slowly.

The past.

The heartache.

Oh, she remembered how Mother had clung to Father’s spare coat for days, refusing to let go, refusing to believe the facts …

‘Have you considered,’ she breathed, legs slumping down as he lifted them from his shoulders, ‘that the heartache won’t fade as long as you don’t let anything else in?’

He staggered back, buttoning his breeches with shaking fingers as he dropped his hulk into the cushions of the worn couch. His voice abruptly went cold again, like a lake freezing over. ‘What the hell doyouknow of it?’

‘Enough.’ A bitter chuckle escaped her, sending rivulets of seed dripping down her thighs. ‘Trust me, more than enough.’

He didn’t respond to that.

She could feel his gaze on her without looking, feel the silence take shape in her gut – a strange, nervous silence after the clamour of their moans and groans, like a path leading straight into deadly marshland. Had she angered him? Pushed too far? Presumptuous, for a lowly housemaid to think she knew anything about the suffering of dukes …

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