The Virgin in the Rake’s Bed by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Twenty-Two

“What made you change your mind?” Catherine asked, as their lips parted, and she gazed up at him with a smile.

“I thought about it a great deal. I agonized over it, Catherine. You know I was hurt in the past, and one does not simply forget such hurt,” he said, still with his arms around her.

“But I am not Cassandra,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know that. You are nothing like her. You could be nothing like her. I realize that now, I realize I was placing a judgement on all the fairer sex, when in truth it was only Cassandra who broke my heart in such a way. Why should I suffer by my own self-imposed rules? They bring me nothing but heartache, and my feelings for your almost overwhelmed me. I want no ruse in our betrothal, Catherine, I want you,” he said, “but I must know, do you feel the same way for me?” and Catherine gave a deep sigh, her despair at last giving way to hope.

She had imagined this moment, and almost acted on it. She had been so close to telling him she loved him, and glad she had not done so after his strange behavior during their last meeting. But her feelings for him had not changed, they had grown stronger, and it seemed so had his for her.

“I do feel the same. I love you, too. What began as a ruse soon became something far more. I could barely control my feelings for you. I love you, Ian, and I want this betrothal to be real. Forget these and the sorrow they have caused you. All that matters is you and I were meant to be together. Surely it was no chance encounter in the library of the Somerset residence, and here we are again, another library, and another moment,” she said.

He smiled at her, their lips meeting once again in a kiss.

“We are alone, and even if we are disturbed, we are betrothed. There is no scandal in it,” he said, his hands running down the small of her back and down her dress, his lips on her neck, kissing her gently.

“And would we care if there were a scandal?” she asked.

“I would not,” he whispered.

A shiver of delight ran through her, his hands now moving up her back, pulling at her dress. Her head was on one side, his lips at her neck, and she pulled him close into her embrace, their bodies entwined. There was a chaise lounge by the fire, and he pulled her down to sit, tugging at her dress and exposing her breasts, which now he kissed, his tongue encircling them, his hands seeking her out.

“I want no more ruses between us,” she gasped, as his hand slid beneath her skirts.

“Does this feel like a ruse? There is no need for further pretending, no more rules, only what our hearts desire,” he whispered, and Catherine shuddered at the sensation now rising in her.

She had never known such a touch, though she had heard Rebecca and Samantha speak of the pleasures of the flesh. But no words could describe the sensation that now filled her body, a building heat which seemed to rise to bursting point. She gasped again, clutching at him, his touch intense and almost overwhelming.

“I…” she began, but he brought his finger to her lips, kissing her on the neck, his other hands searching her out again.

She could feel him stiffen against her, and she tugged at his breeches, exposing him, and causing him to gasp as she clutched at him, their pleasure rising together. She pulled him close to her, her skirts pulled back, his body arched over her, the touch of his fingers causing Catherine to shudder and cry out in delight.

“More… more, Catherine,” he cried, and with a cry she gave in to the feeling building inside her, a sudden burst of ecstasy, which filled her with delight such as she had never known before.

He too gave into his pleasures, and together they fell into each other’s arms, each overcome with the pleasure they had shared.

“I… I never thought it would be like that,” she said, smiling up at him, and he nodded, sitting back, and fastening his breeches.

“The seduction is complete,” he said, and she smiled.

“But who has seduced whom?” she asked.

He looked at her for a moment and pondered, a smile playing across his face. “Perhaps it not a case of whom, but of both. Have we not each played our little games and both to the satisfaction of the other?” he asked.

She smiled at him, nodding, her finger twirling in the ringlet of hair which had fallen from her French bun. She pulled her dress up and sat up, as Ian rose and hunted out a decanter of brandy which sat on a table by the window.

“Will you have a drink?” he asked, and she nodded.

Their tryst had made her thirsty, and now she took a sip of brandy, sighing and sitting back in the chair, watching as he sat down on the rug by the fire. There was no doubt she had fallen for him, she loved everything about him, desiring him again even now.

“And what happens now?” she asked, and he looked at her in surprise.

“Well, nothing,” he said, and she looked puzzled.

“I mean now that we know how we each feel?” she said, and he took a sip of brandy, his eyes fixed longingly on her.

“Is our betrothal not already announced? We are to be married, are we not? It is only you and I who have changed. To the outside world, we leave this library as we entered it, though everything has changed for us,” he said, and she smiled.

“I suppose you are right,” she said, but he shook his head.

“There is one thing, though, and in what we have just shared it makes me long the more for it,” he said, sitting up and reaching out for her hand.

“Name it,” she said, and he brought his lips to her fingers, kissing them each in turn.

“Marry me now, as soon as possible. There can be no delay. I could not bear a moment more to wait for you. I must have your hand, and know your desire mine, too,” he said.

His words – though entirely pleasant – took her by surprise. Before, she had been worried their ruse would be discovered when time elapsed and no marriage was forthcoming, but now they were truly betrothed, it seemed all so sudden to speak of marriage in such a way.

“We would need a special license from the bishop, it will take time,” she said, but he shook his head.

“Not if we elope. We can go to Scotland, marry there on the border at Gretna Green. Others of our class have gone before us. Your father will never permit this marriage. He did not when it was a falsity, and he will not now in truth. We must make it happen for ourselves, Catherine,” he said, and he rose from the floor and came to sit next to her, putting his arm around her and drawing her close.

Talk of elopement and Scotland was exciting, and the thought of defying her father and brother even more so. Once they were married, there could be no denying the legitimacy of what they had done, and the Earl of Westwood would have no claim over her. Catherine smiled at the thought of her father and brother’s faces when they discovered she was married to Ian, a defiance which would secure her independence and thwart their plans in one.

“Elope? To Scotland?” she exclaimed, and he nodded.

“Why not? What is stopping us? Why hold back a moment longer?” he asked, and she smiled at him.

“It is all I want,” she said, and he took her in his arms and kissed her, the two of them of one mind as to what they desired.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Samantha asked, when Catherine returned to the ballroom a few moments later.

Her dress was somewhat disheveled and her face flushed red, breathless from the excitement of her exertions and excited at the prospect of what was to come next.

“I have been in the library, Samantha,” she said, raising her eyebrows at her friend, just as Ian appeared behind her, nodding to Samantha as she passed.

“My library?” Samantha exclaimed, a look of horror coming over her face.

“Well, I have already seen that of Rebecca and Nicholas,” Catherine replied, glancing over at Ian, who was now talking to Samantha’s husband Norman.

“You are quite unbelievable,” Samantha said, though she could not hide the smile coming over her face.

“You have seen nothing yet,” Catherine replied, her thoughts turned to the elopement, and all the excitement that was to come.