Her body trembled at the low hum of his voice—that deep, velvety sound that seemed to ripple through her, setting every nerve alight. Heavens, how easily he could undo her with nothing more than his words.
“Yes. Yes, I will,” she replied.
He continued the relentless, skilled stroking, as if he already knew every button to press to send her over the edge. With everyhusky word and every touch, he broke down the icy wall she had built around her heart until it overflowed.
“Oh, Benedict!” When she could take no more, she cried out his name.
It was a rough, choked sound as her body began to shake beneath her. The room swam around her, the scent of expensive perfume and him overwhelming her senses.
“Mine,” he whispered against her mouth.
A fierce, primal cry tore from her lips as pleasure surged through every vein, shattering her in waves that seemed endless. The world around her vanished; there was only the rough stone at her back, the heat of his body, and the dizzying rush of release that stole her breath. Her knees buckled, her fingers clutching at him for balance, trembling as the aftershocks rippled through her.
She felt utterly undone, bare to her soul, her body humming with the memory of his touch, claimed in a way she could never take back.
He pushed his hardness against her then, through his pants, but hot between her legs.
“Can you feel what you do to me, my sweet?”
Isla slowly pushed off the cold wall, her legs weak, her breath coming in shallow, trembling gasps. Heat still pulsed through her, fierce and aching, as if his touch lingered beneath her skin. She felt consumed, every thought tangled in the desperate need he’d awakened, still reaching for him even as the air between them cooled.
“What did ye do to me?” she gasped.
“You are my wife. That is all you need to know right now. You will be treated this way, with every attention and touch that is befitting that. You. Are. Mine.”
Benedict watched her, his own breath still ragged as he ran his fingers through his messy hair, utterly transformed from the Duke who had arrived at the ball.
He reached out then, his movements precise despite his distraction, and began pulling down the bodice of her gown, which had been pushed up during their struggle. Isla stood perfectly still, allowing him to smooth the velvet over her curves. He secured the ribbons at her back with meticulous care as he brushed her skirts down.
When he was done, he gripped her chin gently, forcing her to look up at him.
“We are leaving now,” he stated, his voice a low, commanding whisper.
She simply nodded, too overwhelmed to argue, too weak to resist.
Chapter Fifteen
When the carriage pulled up to the grand front entrance, Benedict was the first to step out. He offered Isla his hand, his touch gentlemanly. Yet, the memory of its recent, rough intimacy made her pulse leap. As they entered the dimly lit entrance hall, the hushed atmosphere of the late hour was immediately broken.
A small, pajama-clad figure burst out from the shadow of the drawing room door and into the foyer.
“Papa! Isla!”
It was Oliver, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“You’re back! How was the ball? Did Isla wear the beautiful gown? Was there a dragon?”
“Oliver,” Benedict said as he stopped dead in his tracks, his voice sharp with reprimand. “You should be in bed. It is well past your bedtime.”
The boy flinched, his excitement instantly replaced by familiar shame. He dropped his gaze to the floor, favoring his limp as he fidgeted with the hem of his nightshirt.
“I really am sorry, Papa. I just… I wanted to wait up and ask Isla. I snuck down after my governess put me to sleep, and I napped in the drawing room. I just wanted to see you…”
Isla stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Oliver’s shoulder, offering a small, comforting squeeze. She looked up at Benedict, her own expression challenging him.
“It was lovely, Oliver,” she said softly, her cheeks warming slightly under the glare of the hall lamp as she recalled just how they had spent the latter part of the evening. “Aye, I wore the gown. And while there were no dragons, there was much dancin’. And I got to see me sister and brother!”
Oliver’s face brightened immediately. “Did you have a good time, Isla? Did they have cakes?”
