Fallen, page 24
“Antoinette.”
She looked up. “You’re home.”
“You sound delighted.” Dane’s tone was dry.
“Daniel’s visiting with a friend,” she said. “Thatcher took him. And Grace…I’ve no idea.”
“Luckily, I’m not here for either Daniel or Grace.”
“You told him.” Ani couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice.
Dane threw himself down onto the other end of the couch. He, frustratingly, managed to make even abandon look elegant. This was the first time Ani had seen him since the night before; he’d gotten up, gotten dressed, and left before she’d even managed to stumble out of bed. His bed. She was mad at him about that, too, although here she knew she was being irrational. As much as she’d wanted to hit him over the head with something the night before, she’s somehow instead found herself ripping his shirt off. She’d fallen into a deep sleep that had felt more like a coma shortly thereafter.
Which meant that this was the first time she’d gotten to actually talk to him.
Well, the little voice said. You could have used your words the night before. Instead, you chose to use something else.
“I didn’t, actually.”
Dane was wearing a frock coat, gray, paired with a waistcoat cut from some sort of expensive looking brocade of such a dark burgundy that it almost seemed black. His tie was black. Ani really liked the ensemble and felt annoyed at herself for even noticing it. Who cared how he dressed, from one day to the next? And if some things, like that high collar, were more tempting than others…. She vacillated between consoling herself that she was only human and berating herself for not being stronger.
She wanted to tell him what she thought of his denial, but more than that she wanted to see him naked.
It was so, so much easier to stay mad at him when he wasn’t in the room.
He must’ve sensed something of her thoughts, because the ghost of a smile flashed across his face and was gone. “I really didn’t. I promise. I asked you to stay, and you did. One can hardly fault the man for learning this news, and assuming that it meant something.”
Ani nodded.
“There’s a secondary point, too: that, being my uncle, he’s long been aware of my feelings for you.”
Ani looked up, meeting his eyes. “I don’t understand them.”
“You’re everything,” he said carefully, “that I’m not.”
“You’re not a monster,” she said.
And he wasn’t. Not truly. He was a product of his environment. He’d done what he’d had to do, become what he’d had to become, to survive. Just like the men he worked with, and was friends with. Just like the generations of men who’d come before him. Ani understood why Dane, for all that his own memories of the place ranged from the bizarre to the horrific, wanted Daniel to attend his alma mater. He wanted Daniel to succeed. And soft men, weak men, didn’t succeed.
He said nothing in response. Only studied her, his expression once again unreadable. The tension between them grew thick.
He broke it, abruptly, by standing up.
“I came home,” he said, “because I had something to show you.”
“I…alright.”
“Come with me.”
She put her book down, after carefully marking its place, and rose as well.
He led her across the house.
He didn’t say a word, and she had to struggle to fight down a rising tide of anxiety. What, exactly, was going on? It wasn’t—it wasn’t something bad, was it? With Dane, the problem was, you really never knew. He could’ve brought her a bouquet, or he could be about to offer her Grace’s severed head in a box. So long as, she thought wildly, he didn’t suggest stuffing and mounting it.
He stopped before the door to the orangerie.
Ani never went in there; there was no reason to. There wasn’t so much as a single orange tree, only a few broken pots. The attention that Dane had lavished on the rest of the house had, for whatever reason, stopped at this door. Probably, she suspected, because Robin had broken things off with Jasper before she could bully Dane into becoming a gardener.
“It occurred to me recently,” he said, “that this space could be put to better use.”
And then he opened the door.
Ani stepped through it, and then stopped.
There was nothing she could do, after that, but stare.
“It’s a studio,” Dane said, entirely unnecessarily. “It’s your studio.”
There was—everything. Everything she’d dreamed of owning. All set up, perfectly. Like this had been her space for years, and she’d just briefly stepped out. Ani loved both the modern style of art, rendered with stylus on tablet, as well as the more traditional forms. And indeed she saw, not one tablet but two. Large tablets, the size of large canvases. And there were canvases. And rolls of canvas. And different sized easels and chests of drawers marked carefully with all their contents.
Once her shock subsided enough that she was able to move, she began exploring them.
“I can make my own paint!”
“I consulted with the best artists in the city, about what you might require.”
One entire chest of drawers was filled with brushes. Beautiful brushes. Ani gasped.
“And then, naturally, I purchased it all.”
Naturally.
“There was a certain, ah. Method to my madness, in insisting that you accompany me to dinner last night. All of this,” he gestured, “was brought in and set up in your absence. Then the door was locked, until the time was right. By me, naturally. I unlocked the door just before I went to fetch you. I wanted to have a look around in daylight, to ensure that everything was as it should be.”
He held out the key. “But this is now yours.”
“I….” Ani stared at it.
“We don’t need trees. Orange trees, lemon trees, or any other kind of trees. Although one or two could be brought in, I suppose, if you thought they might be inspirational. But what we do need is for you to create. With no restrictions. Whenever, and whatever you want. This…. The floor is already tile and there are two sinks, both of which are perfectly functional. The light is excellent, too. North facing, which is I understand what artists want.”
Ani was, possibly for the first time in her life, truly at a loss for words.
Dane took her hand and, gently, turned it over. Then, just as gently, he placed the key in her palm. Ani just stared at it.
“I…can’t,” she said finally.
“You can. These are only things, and things are the least anyone can give you.”
But they were more. This was more. This was…it was everything.
Dane was right about the light, though. The light was perfect. She bit her lip, afraid that she might burst into tears. She’d never…and she couldn’t help but imagine herself working here, and how happy she’d be. Except—happy wasn’t even the right word. There was no word.
“No one has ever….”
“There is something,” Dane said slowly, “that I’d like in return.”
Her eyes met his. “What?”
His eyes, in turn, searched hers. “I’d like you to marry me.” Seeing the shock on her face, he continued. “Such a step isn’t required, of course. I present this to you, like my home, without—as you’d say, without strings. I’d gladly take care of you for the rest of my life, Antoinette, as your lover or as your friend. But I’d prefer to take care of you as my wife.”
Ani thought she might pass out.
“I love you.”
“I….”
“I know you don’t love me. But I believe that, in time, you could.”
Her eyes widened. “And you…?” He accepted that?
“Yes,” he said, understanding.
Dane had taken her in. Her supposed friends hadn’t. They hadn’t even offered. Oh, they’d said all the right things. And then left her alone, presuming apparently that she was fine. Or that the weight of everything could fall on Dane’s shoulders, and that was fine. Even Archer, who she’d thought was so different, so above everything that was wrong with this accursed state….
“Yes,” she said. She had to just—jump, before she had a chance to change her mind.
“Yes?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Reaching into an inside pocket, he produced a box. It was small, covered in leather that had been tanned a deep oxblood and tooled with gold. He handed it to her. She took it, hesitantly, and spotted a tiny gold button. She pressed it, and the lid sprung open. Inside, resting in a nest of velvet, was a ring.
“It was my mother’s,” he said. “I thought…. But if you’d like a different one, that can be arranged.”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. And it was. It was also simply…astonishing. Dane hadn’t handed her a mere ring, he’d handed her a fortune. One of the largest sapphires she’d ever seen, including when visiting an exhibition of the crown jewels , had been set in a split shank of what was clearly platinum. Cut in an oval, it had been framed by a dozen diamonds that, like the sapphire, caught the light and sparkled. They were round, and appeared to be just as perfect. Any one of them would’ve been perfectly suited as an earring. Or even a ring.
He took the box from her and, removing the ring, slipped it onto her finger.
“Now you’re mine,” he said.
She smiled, and he smiled back.
She didn’t know how she felt, in that moment. Happy? Part of her was happy. But part of her felt like she’d just entered into a business arrangement. Which marriage, according to many, was supposed to be. That wasn’t what she’d ever wanted, though. She thought back to their initial conversation about patrons. So much had changed, since then.
“We might,” he said, “need to forgo propriety and make our own announcement.”
“I’m sure Grace will be devastated.”
“We can tell the papers it’s from her.”
“Or we can tell them she’s eloped with a moose.”
Dane threw back his head and laughed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Delicate Little Lace
He opened the door and pulled her, giggling, into their bedroom.
“I’m going to take you shopping, now,” he informed her, his tone serious, “for some real clothes. You can’t stop me.”
“But you can’t force me to wear any of them!”
“Then you can wander around the house naked.”
“Well in that case, I’ll just steal a few more pairs of your pajamas.”
“Then I’ll start purchasing myself some delicate little lace.”
“Now that I’d like to see!”
“So would I!” Dane swept her up, into his arms, and carried her toward the bed. He threw her onto its soft surface and, with a whoosh, she began sinking into its depths. Dane was a man who appreciated luxury. And Ani was, apparently, a woman who couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t so much as glance at him, especially lately, without wanting to disrobe him immediately. Especially at times like these, when she didn’t know how she felt—or what she should feel. It was like the more confused her mind became, the more her body knew exactly what it wanted.
So when Dane had kissed her, downstairs in the orangerie, she’d responded immediately. She’d been attracted to men before, she was twenty-one and not twelve and New Victoria boasted more than its fair share of beauty. But she’d never experienced anything like this. The mere brush of his lips against hers was like fire. It burned through her, straight down to her core, building into something that was impossible to control.
He climbed on top of her and she reached up, grabbing his tie. “I’m going to remove this,” she said.
“Oh, are you now.”
She nodded, or tried to. Her head was trapped in pillows. For emphasis, she gave the silk a little tug. But then, somehow, he was kissing the side of her neck and she’d forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. His hand slid up, over her breast, and then he was cupping her face as his lips found hers. Her mouth opened under the gentle pressure, accepting him. His touch, his taste, his overwhelming presence was terrifying and yet also somehow reassuring.
She dug her fingernails into his back, arching his hips, wanting him. Wanting release. But he pushed her back, and sat up. “Wait,” he said. His tie was still on.
Ani moaned in frustration.
Dane’s gaze, already dark, darkened further.
He held her in it, trapped, as he began to work at the silken knot. Then the tie was gone. Then came the waistcoat, and the shirt. And then there he was, perfect. The steel in his nipples glinted in the light. Ani had never quite gotten over that surprise. But she loved Dane’s reaction, when she played with them. He claimed that such piercings heightened a man’s response and while she had no other nipples, at least not men’s nipples, to compare his with that seemed to be the case.
She particularly liked, she thought, as she lay there, twisting first one and then the other with her tongue.
She waited for him to return to her but, instead, he only removed her skirt. “So lovely,” he said, sitting back again. He ran a hand over the cotton of her knickers. “I think I would prefer lace, though.”
Ani felt exposed, and vulnerable, which only heightened her arousal.
He leaned down and, very carefully, kissed her stomach. He trailed his lips over her flesh lightly, so lightly, back and forth, and then kissed her again. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he did the same thing again, but this time moved lower. Ani, who thought she might die of frustration, moaned.
“Wait, princess,” he said. “Wait.”
She didn’t want to wait, but she had no choice.
Then his fingers found her knickers, and began pulling them down.
“So hot.” She could hear the amusement, the satisfaction, in his voice.
She moaned again.
He parted her legs. Then he slid a hand up, under her. His touch was firm and sure. He kissed her again. Lower, and lower. Until she felt his tongue parting her.
She gasped. She’d never imagined—anything like this. That anything could feel like this. His tongue was light, like a feather, stoking the conflagration within, bringing a pleasure so acute she could barely stand it. Along with a frustration so acute that tears welled in her eyes.
He teased her, sucked her, everywhere but where he most needed to be. She arched her hips in a futile effort to increase contact. He withdrew slightly, torturing her, punishing her, and she collapsed.
Rewarding her compliance, he resumed his torment.
As he did, he slipped a hand up until he found her breast. He cupped it, using his thumb to toy with her nipple. The little nub was so hard it hurt.
She breathed in, and out, trying to remember to breathe at all.
And then it happened.
He took that small, secret bud in his lips and ran his tongue over it.
She screamed, convulsing, shattering.
And then, for a long time, she did nothing at all.
She was only vaguely aware of him lying down beside her, of the fact that he’d removed the rest of her clothes. She still had some on, but she could barely feel them. She could barely feel anything. He touched her cheek. “I believe, darling, that you enjoyed yourself.”
His smile was entirely too self-satisfied.
“But now,” he said, “prepare yourself. Because I’m going to claim you again.”
And he did.
Ani was astonished to discover that she was almost as ravenous for him as she’d been a few minutes ago. His…assault had been wonderful, but something had been missing. She pressed herself to him, her mouth seeking his. She wanted, needed him inside her like this.
He wasn’t gentle with her, like he’d been before. He wasn’t slow. Repressing his own desires had driven him wild and he battered into her, desperate to sate his own lust. She bit down on his shoulder, hard, driven by impulse and he roared his release into her neck.
This time, Ani thought she might’ve actually fallen asleep before Dane spoke again.
“You need clothes,” he said. And then, after a minute, “and I’d like to buy you a car.”
“A car?” She cracked an eye. The after effects of their coupling, drugging and warm, were still wrapping her like a blanket.
“And more sapphires. And emeralds, and rubies, and diamonds. And pearls.”
“The poor oysters.”
“When would you like to have the wedding?”
Ani shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Genie would like to help. But you don’t have to let her.”
“No, I’d like her to.” Because Ani had no idea what she was doing.
She’d been to a wedding, or two, as a child. But they’d been comparatively simple affairs, hosted by families without the means to offer more than a lunch after the service. Simple appealed to Ani, but she doubted she’d be able to get away with it. Jasper’s guest list alone was likely to stretch to the moon. And that was if they were lucky.
She wondered if she’d get to ride to the church in a carriage, like the queen when she got married. Ani hadn’t been alive, then, but she’d seen pictures. The queen, who’d proposed to her husband a mere five days after meeting him, had been ecstatic.
“What are you thinking?”
“Truthfully? That I’m worried about my family.”
“Yes,” Dane agreed. “It would be nice if we could get through the ceremony without Grace propositioning every man in the church.”
“Perhaps we can find some man, to escort her.”
“Where, into the barn?”
“I appreciate you letting her stay.”
“Do you know where she went, earlier?”
“No.”
“Let’s hope it’s not back to that brothel.”
Ani shut her eyes. “Oh, God.”
She felt bed shift as Dane got up. “Unfortunately, darling, I have to return to work.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s alright.” Ani was disappointed, but not too terribly so. There was something else, she’d just remembered, that she had to do.
She looked up. “You’re home.”
“You sound delighted.” Dane’s tone was dry.
“Daniel’s visiting with a friend,” she said. “Thatcher took him. And Grace…I’ve no idea.”
“Luckily, I’m not here for either Daniel or Grace.”
“You told him.” Ani couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice.
Dane threw himself down onto the other end of the couch. He, frustratingly, managed to make even abandon look elegant. This was the first time Ani had seen him since the night before; he’d gotten up, gotten dressed, and left before she’d even managed to stumble out of bed. His bed. She was mad at him about that, too, although here she knew she was being irrational. As much as she’d wanted to hit him over the head with something the night before, she’s somehow instead found herself ripping his shirt off. She’d fallen into a deep sleep that had felt more like a coma shortly thereafter.
Which meant that this was the first time she’d gotten to actually talk to him.
Well, the little voice said. You could have used your words the night before. Instead, you chose to use something else.
“I didn’t, actually.”
Dane was wearing a frock coat, gray, paired with a waistcoat cut from some sort of expensive looking brocade of such a dark burgundy that it almost seemed black. His tie was black. Ani really liked the ensemble and felt annoyed at herself for even noticing it. Who cared how he dressed, from one day to the next? And if some things, like that high collar, were more tempting than others…. She vacillated between consoling herself that she was only human and berating herself for not being stronger.
She wanted to tell him what she thought of his denial, but more than that she wanted to see him naked.
It was so, so much easier to stay mad at him when he wasn’t in the room.
He must’ve sensed something of her thoughts, because the ghost of a smile flashed across his face and was gone. “I really didn’t. I promise. I asked you to stay, and you did. One can hardly fault the man for learning this news, and assuming that it meant something.”
Ani nodded.
“There’s a secondary point, too: that, being my uncle, he’s long been aware of my feelings for you.”
Ani looked up, meeting his eyes. “I don’t understand them.”
“You’re everything,” he said carefully, “that I’m not.”
“You’re not a monster,” she said.
And he wasn’t. Not truly. He was a product of his environment. He’d done what he’d had to do, become what he’d had to become, to survive. Just like the men he worked with, and was friends with. Just like the generations of men who’d come before him. Ani understood why Dane, for all that his own memories of the place ranged from the bizarre to the horrific, wanted Daniel to attend his alma mater. He wanted Daniel to succeed. And soft men, weak men, didn’t succeed.
He said nothing in response. Only studied her, his expression once again unreadable. The tension between them grew thick.
He broke it, abruptly, by standing up.
“I came home,” he said, “because I had something to show you.”
“I…alright.”
“Come with me.”
She put her book down, after carefully marking its place, and rose as well.
He led her across the house.
He didn’t say a word, and she had to struggle to fight down a rising tide of anxiety. What, exactly, was going on? It wasn’t—it wasn’t something bad, was it? With Dane, the problem was, you really never knew. He could’ve brought her a bouquet, or he could be about to offer her Grace’s severed head in a box. So long as, she thought wildly, he didn’t suggest stuffing and mounting it.
He stopped before the door to the orangerie.
Ani never went in there; there was no reason to. There wasn’t so much as a single orange tree, only a few broken pots. The attention that Dane had lavished on the rest of the house had, for whatever reason, stopped at this door. Probably, she suspected, because Robin had broken things off with Jasper before she could bully Dane into becoming a gardener.
“It occurred to me recently,” he said, “that this space could be put to better use.”
And then he opened the door.
Ani stepped through it, and then stopped.
There was nothing she could do, after that, but stare.
“It’s a studio,” Dane said, entirely unnecessarily. “It’s your studio.”
There was—everything. Everything she’d dreamed of owning. All set up, perfectly. Like this had been her space for years, and she’d just briefly stepped out. Ani loved both the modern style of art, rendered with stylus on tablet, as well as the more traditional forms. And indeed she saw, not one tablet but two. Large tablets, the size of large canvases. And there were canvases. And rolls of canvas. And different sized easels and chests of drawers marked carefully with all their contents.
Once her shock subsided enough that she was able to move, she began exploring them.
“I can make my own paint!”
“I consulted with the best artists in the city, about what you might require.”
One entire chest of drawers was filled with brushes. Beautiful brushes. Ani gasped.
“And then, naturally, I purchased it all.”
Naturally.
“There was a certain, ah. Method to my madness, in insisting that you accompany me to dinner last night. All of this,” he gestured, “was brought in and set up in your absence. Then the door was locked, until the time was right. By me, naturally. I unlocked the door just before I went to fetch you. I wanted to have a look around in daylight, to ensure that everything was as it should be.”
He held out the key. “But this is now yours.”
“I….” Ani stared at it.
“We don’t need trees. Orange trees, lemon trees, or any other kind of trees. Although one or two could be brought in, I suppose, if you thought they might be inspirational. But what we do need is for you to create. With no restrictions. Whenever, and whatever you want. This…. The floor is already tile and there are two sinks, both of which are perfectly functional. The light is excellent, too. North facing, which is I understand what artists want.”
Ani was, possibly for the first time in her life, truly at a loss for words.
Dane took her hand and, gently, turned it over. Then, just as gently, he placed the key in her palm. Ani just stared at it.
“I…can’t,” she said finally.
“You can. These are only things, and things are the least anyone can give you.”
But they were more. This was more. This was…it was everything.
Dane was right about the light, though. The light was perfect. She bit her lip, afraid that she might burst into tears. She’d never…and she couldn’t help but imagine herself working here, and how happy she’d be. Except—happy wasn’t even the right word. There was no word.
“No one has ever….”
“There is something,” Dane said slowly, “that I’d like in return.”
Her eyes met his. “What?”
His eyes, in turn, searched hers. “I’d like you to marry me.” Seeing the shock on her face, he continued. “Such a step isn’t required, of course. I present this to you, like my home, without—as you’d say, without strings. I’d gladly take care of you for the rest of my life, Antoinette, as your lover or as your friend. But I’d prefer to take care of you as my wife.”
Ani thought she might pass out.
“I love you.”
“I….”
“I know you don’t love me. But I believe that, in time, you could.”
Her eyes widened. “And you…?” He accepted that?
“Yes,” he said, understanding.
Dane had taken her in. Her supposed friends hadn’t. They hadn’t even offered. Oh, they’d said all the right things. And then left her alone, presuming apparently that she was fine. Or that the weight of everything could fall on Dane’s shoulders, and that was fine. Even Archer, who she’d thought was so different, so above everything that was wrong with this accursed state….
“Yes,” she said. She had to just—jump, before she had a chance to change her mind.
“Yes?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Reaching into an inside pocket, he produced a box. It was small, covered in leather that had been tanned a deep oxblood and tooled with gold. He handed it to her. She took it, hesitantly, and spotted a tiny gold button. She pressed it, and the lid sprung open. Inside, resting in a nest of velvet, was a ring.
“It was my mother’s,” he said. “I thought…. But if you’d like a different one, that can be arranged.”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. And it was. It was also simply…astonishing. Dane hadn’t handed her a mere ring, he’d handed her a fortune. One of the largest sapphires she’d ever seen, including when visiting an exhibition of the crown jewels , had been set in a split shank of what was clearly platinum. Cut in an oval, it had been framed by a dozen diamonds that, like the sapphire, caught the light and sparkled. They were round, and appeared to be just as perfect. Any one of them would’ve been perfectly suited as an earring. Or even a ring.
He took the box from her and, removing the ring, slipped it onto her finger.
“Now you’re mine,” he said.
She smiled, and he smiled back.
She didn’t know how she felt, in that moment. Happy? Part of her was happy. But part of her felt like she’d just entered into a business arrangement. Which marriage, according to many, was supposed to be. That wasn’t what she’d ever wanted, though. She thought back to their initial conversation about patrons. So much had changed, since then.
“We might,” he said, “need to forgo propriety and make our own announcement.”
“I’m sure Grace will be devastated.”
“We can tell the papers it’s from her.”
“Or we can tell them she’s eloped with a moose.”
Dane threw back his head and laughed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Delicate Little Lace
He opened the door and pulled her, giggling, into their bedroom.
“I’m going to take you shopping, now,” he informed her, his tone serious, “for some real clothes. You can’t stop me.”
“But you can’t force me to wear any of them!”
“Then you can wander around the house naked.”
“Well in that case, I’ll just steal a few more pairs of your pajamas.”
“Then I’ll start purchasing myself some delicate little lace.”
“Now that I’d like to see!”
“So would I!” Dane swept her up, into his arms, and carried her toward the bed. He threw her onto its soft surface and, with a whoosh, she began sinking into its depths. Dane was a man who appreciated luxury. And Ani was, apparently, a woman who couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t so much as glance at him, especially lately, without wanting to disrobe him immediately. Especially at times like these, when she didn’t know how she felt—or what she should feel. It was like the more confused her mind became, the more her body knew exactly what it wanted.
So when Dane had kissed her, downstairs in the orangerie, she’d responded immediately. She’d been attracted to men before, she was twenty-one and not twelve and New Victoria boasted more than its fair share of beauty. But she’d never experienced anything like this. The mere brush of his lips against hers was like fire. It burned through her, straight down to her core, building into something that was impossible to control.
He climbed on top of her and she reached up, grabbing his tie. “I’m going to remove this,” she said.
“Oh, are you now.”
She nodded, or tried to. Her head was trapped in pillows. For emphasis, she gave the silk a little tug. But then, somehow, he was kissing the side of her neck and she’d forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. His hand slid up, over her breast, and then he was cupping her face as his lips found hers. Her mouth opened under the gentle pressure, accepting him. His touch, his taste, his overwhelming presence was terrifying and yet also somehow reassuring.
She dug her fingernails into his back, arching his hips, wanting him. Wanting release. But he pushed her back, and sat up. “Wait,” he said. His tie was still on.
Ani moaned in frustration.
Dane’s gaze, already dark, darkened further.
He held her in it, trapped, as he began to work at the silken knot. Then the tie was gone. Then came the waistcoat, and the shirt. And then there he was, perfect. The steel in his nipples glinted in the light. Ani had never quite gotten over that surprise. But she loved Dane’s reaction, when she played with them. He claimed that such piercings heightened a man’s response and while she had no other nipples, at least not men’s nipples, to compare his with that seemed to be the case.
She particularly liked, she thought, as she lay there, twisting first one and then the other with her tongue.
She waited for him to return to her but, instead, he only removed her skirt. “So lovely,” he said, sitting back again. He ran a hand over the cotton of her knickers. “I think I would prefer lace, though.”
Ani felt exposed, and vulnerable, which only heightened her arousal.
He leaned down and, very carefully, kissed her stomach. He trailed his lips over her flesh lightly, so lightly, back and forth, and then kissed her again. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he did the same thing again, but this time moved lower. Ani, who thought she might die of frustration, moaned.
“Wait, princess,” he said. “Wait.”
She didn’t want to wait, but she had no choice.
Then his fingers found her knickers, and began pulling them down.
“So hot.” She could hear the amusement, the satisfaction, in his voice.
She moaned again.
He parted her legs. Then he slid a hand up, under her. His touch was firm and sure. He kissed her again. Lower, and lower. Until she felt his tongue parting her.
She gasped. She’d never imagined—anything like this. That anything could feel like this. His tongue was light, like a feather, stoking the conflagration within, bringing a pleasure so acute she could barely stand it. Along with a frustration so acute that tears welled in her eyes.
He teased her, sucked her, everywhere but where he most needed to be. She arched her hips in a futile effort to increase contact. He withdrew slightly, torturing her, punishing her, and she collapsed.
Rewarding her compliance, he resumed his torment.
As he did, he slipped a hand up until he found her breast. He cupped it, using his thumb to toy with her nipple. The little nub was so hard it hurt.
She breathed in, and out, trying to remember to breathe at all.
And then it happened.
He took that small, secret bud in his lips and ran his tongue over it.
She screamed, convulsing, shattering.
And then, for a long time, she did nothing at all.
She was only vaguely aware of him lying down beside her, of the fact that he’d removed the rest of her clothes. She still had some on, but she could barely feel them. She could barely feel anything. He touched her cheek. “I believe, darling, that you enjoyed yourself.”
His smile was entirely too self-satisfied.
“But now,” he said, “prepare yourself. Because I’m going to claim you again.”
And he did.
Ani was astonished to discover that she was almost as ravenous for him as she’d been a few minutes ago. His…assault had been wonderful, but something had been missing. She pressed herself to him, her mouth seeking his. She wanted, needed him inside her like this.
He wasn’t gentle with her, like he’d been before. He wasn’t slow. Repressing his own desires had driven him wild and he battered into her, desperate to sate his own lust. She bit down on his shoulder, hard, driven by impulse and he roared his release into her neck.
This time, Ani thought she might’ve actually fallen asleep before Dane spoke again.
“You need clothes,” he said. And then, after a minute, “and I’d like to buy you a car.”
“A car?” She cracked an eye. The after effects of their coupling, drugging and warm, were still wrapping her like a blanket.
“And more sapphires. And emeralds, and rubies, and diamonds. And pearls.”
“The poor oysters.”
“When would you like to have the wedding?”
Ani shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Genie would like to help. But you don’t have to let her.”
“No, I’d like her to.” Because Ani had no idea what she was doing.
She’d been to a wedding, or two, as a child. But they’d been comparatively simple affairs, hosted by families without the means to offer more than a lunch after the service. Simple appealed to Ani, but she doubted she’d be able to get away with it. Jasper’s guest list alone was likely to stretch to the moon. And that was if they were lucky.
She wondered if she’d get to ride to the church in a carriage, like the queen when she got married. Ani hadn’t been alive, then, but she’d seen pictures. The queen, who’d proposed to her husband a mere five days after meeting him, had been ecstatic.
“What are you thinking?”
“Truthfully? That I’m worried about my family.”
“Yes,” Dane agreed. “It would be nice if we could get through the ceremony without Grace propositioning every man in the church.”
“Perhaps we can find some man, to escort her.”
“Where, into the barn?”
“I appreciate you letting her stay.”
“Do you know where she went, earlier?”
“No.”
“Let’s hope it’s not back to that brothel.”
Ani shut her eyes. “Oh, God.”
She felt bed shift as Dane got up. “Unfortunately, darling, I have to return to work.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s alright.” Ani was disappointed, but not too terribly so. There was something else, she’d just remembered, that she had to do.
