Seven

  WILHEM

  “Holy hell.” Her shoulder invited him to bite down and suck hard. His entire body tensed and shot everything he had into her. Never in his life had he given himself so fully to someone. Never in his life had someone given themselves so fully to him. It was like he had emptied his entire self into her and she had done the same.

  What the hell just happened? He would have thought he was under some kind of spell except that he always knew it would be this way with Etta. It was why he’d braved her brother years ago. But when Leland told him that Etta would never marry him, he was forced to let it be. He couldn’t bring himself to live in what he thought would be a loveless marriage, or rather, a marriage of unrequited love. That would have been devastating.

  Having lost one relationship in her brother, he didn’t want to risk losing another one in her. Better to at least be friends, was what he told himself. It was a heavy burden of a lie he’d lived under for far too long.

  Until now.

  Now he knew that she harbored the same feelings.

  Now he knew what it was like to be harbored in her body.

  Now he knew what a true harbor, a true refuge, was. It was her. And there’d never be another. He could travel the world, port at every available stop, yet he knew he’d never find a home anywhere else but in her. He was going to marry her, and they’d figure out the rest later.

  “Oh my God, Wilhem,” her voice floated on a cloud of a whisper against his cheek. And she moved lethargically against him, making him squirm where he was still throbbing with sensitivity. Already, he wanted to take her again in all manner of positions, he just needed five minutes to recuperate.

  He chuckled, kissed her cheek, and murmured into her ear, “I always knew it would be like this with you.” Without seeing it, he knew a hot blush was creeping up her neck. “It’ll always be like this with you. Only you.”

  He could sense a slight stiffening in her body, but didn’t want to chalk it up to a refusal. There was no way he was going to let her slip through his fingers again. Not after what they’d just shared. If it took him the rest of his life, he’d pursue her—woo her—to show her that he was the one for him. It would prove to be a herculean task, but he was up for it.

  Thank God the question that she asked next offered him some hope instead of a lifetime of unrequited love. “Wilhem, what are we going to do?” We. She had said we. They were in this together, and that was by far a clear sign that her thinking was more aligned with his than opposed.

  And he was ready to answer her. To tell her all about the we plans he would make with her. He would subscribe to all the we plans in the world if it meant having her. But there was no time for that.

  The thudding of hooves interrupted his response to her question. A question he knew the answer to, but was too rattled to express by the oncoming passerby.

  “Quick, get your clothes on.” It could be a highwayman. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter. No one was going to see her in this state of dishabille. He wrapped her ties and set her gown to rights.

  Raking his hand through his hair and checking himself, he sat ready. Waiting. Seeing the broken wheel, it was likely the rider would stop, and only the future would tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  The sharp rap on the door indicated the latter.

  And when it swung open to reveal Leland’s furious red face, it was most certainly confirmed to be indicative of the latter. No mistaking his face. Or the words that poured out of him.

  “Hand over my sister, you knave.”

  “Leland, we’re⁠—”

  “You won’t touch her. You won’t see her. You won’t even think of her ever again. You and your careless ways. How could I have ever trusted you?” he shouted the venomous words. “How were we ever friends? You’re the worst kind of bastard.” In all the years of their childhood friendship, Wilham had never seen Leland’s face so splotchy in ire. Even when Leland had shunned him, he hadn’t seen this level of expressiveness. If anything, Leland had been cold. Aloof. Dismissive. Both reactions were hard to take, but at least this time Wilhem knew he was in the right. Or was going to be. He was going to do the honorable—and loving—thing. If only Leland would listen, he could explain that he would settle down for Etta. He’d give up all the travel, all the exploration, everything, just to be with her.

  “I’m going to marr⁠—”

  “I’ll call you out, Wilhem.” Leland’s voice dropped slowly and hard. Nothing like the speed and depths to which Wilhem’s stomach fell. His feet ached from the collision. “By God, I’ll blast your damn face off.”

  “Leland!” Etta recoiled in horror. She reached for Wilhem, but he saw her withdraw under Leland’s sharp glare.

  “Get out of the carriage, Etta. I’m taking you home.”

  “But—”

  “Just go with him, Etta.” Wilhem turned in his seat to face her, gripping her hand discreetly. He squeezed it. “It’s for the best.” There would be time later to sort it all out.

  The scowl she gave him didn’t bother him. In fact, he was expecting it. Of course he didn’t want her to leave, but she had to respect her brother for now. She’d already embarrassed him by jilting the groom at the altar that he’d acquired for her. It would not do to further provoke the beast. So no, the scowl meant nothing to him. But the hurt that streaked across her face pierced him to the soul. He was loath to let go of her hand and gave it one more squeeze, but she tugged it away.

  He’d make it up to her. They just needed to settle Leland first.

  Which, come to think of it, might be the hardest task of all.

  Eight

  ETTA

  “I’m not speaking to you, Leland.” Etta packed another gown in her trunk. Her lady’s maid had been doing it earlier that morning, but needing something to toss around in all her fury she had taken over.

  “Etta, be civil. Just for a moment.” Leland locked his arms over his chest and used his big brother voice, a voice that she really disdained at the moment.

  So she stepped up to him—for probably the first time ever—face to face. “Like you were civil to Wilhem?”

  “I was⁠—”

  “You threatened to blow his face off, Leland. I’ll never forgive you for that.” Tears threatened the backs of her eyes, but she bought them off.

  “I’m looking out for you, Etta. Wilhem is a rogue. He lives life on his own terms. He’ll never settle down.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Her voice shook, and those dratted tears were banging hard on her eyes again. “I know him.”

  “You hardly know him.”

  “I know him,” she bit off, “very well.” She turned around to avoid his penetrating glare, but it was too late.

  His menacing voice followed her. “You didn’t.” Leland knew the truth. Her dark secret hadn’t remained hidden for long.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t!” Leland’s hand gripped her shoulder to whirl her around.

  “Don’t touch me, Leland.” Easily, she pulled free of his grasp. She knew he had no intention of hurting her. It was the hardest part in standing up to him. She knew he tried to do what was best for her. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve been a wreck ever since spring.”

  His eyes narrowed, flexing his jaw along with the movement. “Nothing,” he grit out through clenched teeth. “It’s nothing.” Deliberately, he rolled his shoulders back. “I’m the only one looking out for you, Etta. No one else has your best interest in mind.”

  “You’re wrong, Leland.”

  “What?” he scoffed. “You think Wilhem actually knows what’s best for you?”

  “That’s the difference between you two. You think you know what’s best for me, but he just might actually want what’s best for me.”

  The words, she saw, were like a soft blow to his chest. He took a half step back. “Etta⁠—”

  A knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Lady Tilly is here to see you.”

  “Me?” Leland’s voice rose half an octave too high while his chest puffed out slightly. Etta noted the odd reaction and stored it away for future mulling.

  “Oh bother,” Etta grumbled, “she’s obviously here for me—Wait. Lady Tilly is here? As in, inside of our house? It’s not just a letter?”

  “No, my lady. I mean, yes. She is here. In the parlor to be precise.”

  In a flash, Etta grabbed her skirts and raced out of the room. Her best friend was here? What in the world was that about?

  “Tilly!?” she shouted, bursting through the door.

  “Etta.” Tilly flashed a shimmering smile. It glowed, as it always did, like a million stars. But upon a second glance, Etta saw a flicker in her best friend’s eyes that wasn’t usually there. So foreign was it, in fact, that Etta couldn’t quite identify it. If she had to label it, she might have called it sheepishness, but that was so contrary to Tilly’s confidence that Etta really had no idea what to make of it. So she ignored it instead.

  The two embraced tightly and then withdrew, still gripping each other like long lost sisters rather than merely months-separated friends. “What are you doing here?” Etta inquired, searching her friend's face for any clues.

  “I-I…” Tilly’s eyes darted around, taking in Leland entering slightly out of breath. “Where’s Wilhem?” And the question should have been asked to Etta, since the two were still clutching each other. And really, since Etta knew Tilly had been the one to send Wilhem. But that question was actually directed to Leland.

  Leland glowered at Tilly. “He’s not here. Nor should he be.”

  Tilly stepped out of her grasp and marched toward Leland poking him in the chest. “Wilhem came here to save Etta from making the biggest mistake of her life. Now…“Where.” Poke. “Is.” Poke. “He?” The two were seemingly at a stand off. Odd, that.

  Just then the man of the hour waltzed through the door. “Well,” his eyes scanned the people in attendance, falling somewhat surprised on his sister. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Tilly.” He walked over and gently encircled her wrist, thus removing his sister’s index finger from the place it was anchored to in Leland’s chest. Leland only continued his glaring at everyone.

  Wilhem gave his sister a shoulder squeeze. “What are you doing here? What about your art program?”

  She bit her lip before answering, “I’ll tell you later. For now,” she moved to Etta’s side, “we have more important matters to discuss.”

  “Did you not come here to rescue Etta, whisk her away, and marry her?” Tilly challenged her brother.

  Wilhem’s face, for the first time ever, blanched.

  “Wait,” Etta said calmly despite the roiling waves of emotions thrashing in her chest. “It was your idea to come here.”

  “Tilly told me⁠—”

  “Ha!” Tilly clapped. “You told me⁠—”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he hushed his sister. “I can explain everything to Etta.”

  When he approached, he lowered his voice. “Do you think Leland has calmed down enough since yesterday?”

  “I can hear you,” Leland griped.

  “I don’t think so. He looks ready to tear this house apart.” Etta replied, ignoring her brother. “Especially considering I told him of my plans to leave for France this morning.”

  “France?” Wilhem raised a brow. “You’re going to France now, Etta? When were you going to tell me that? Why France?”

  “F-for Tilly,” Etta stuttered, feeling a fraud even as she tried desperately to keep her wits about her in this close proximity to her dream man. With whom she was very angry for abandoning her to her brother.

  “And perhaps for me as well?” Wilhem prodded, stepping closer. His hand suddenly on her waist.

  “Wilhem, get your hand off⁠—”

  “A word less, Leland,” Tilly admonished the grumbly duke at her side. Quite loudly. “Can’t you see they’re in love?” she hissed. None too quietly.

  Etta’s body shook at the thoughts ransacking her brain. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Her dreams of him and passion for him couldn’t actually be reciprocated, could they? She had to know. “You’re in love with me?” she decided to ask Leland.

  He nodded while digging his fingers into her hips. “I have been for a long time, Etta. But I couldn’t settle down anywhere. I had an insatiable need to travel. To explore. Leland knew that, and he thought I’d be no good for you.”

  “You are good for me.”

  His soft chuckle of contentment warmed her cheeks.

  “I think you’re the best for me, Etta.”

  She could feel her eyebrows shoot up in shock. “The best?”

  “Absolutely.” Now both of his hands were around her waist. “And, France included, you’re not going anywhere without me.

  Nine

  WILHEM

  “Have you seen Tilly since this morning?” Wilhem asked, pressing a chaste kiss to Etta’s temple as he plopped down onto the settee next to her. The morning had quieted down after he had announced their betrothal. Not too happily, Leland had sulked off without so much as a congratulations. But his silence, by far, was better than him calling Wilhem out. The outright aggression had dissipated, leaving a simmering begrudgement in its wake. Wilhem could work with that.

  “I haven’t. She said she wanted to go for a ride.”

  “A ride? After traveling here from France? That makes no sense.”

  Etta shrugged and dropped her book in her lap. “It seemed odd to me as well, but she’s the kind who won’t say anything until she’s ready. And then when she is ready, it’ll all come pouring out. So I don’t bother to press her for information.”

  “I’ll have to find out why she left France and her art program so suddenly to come here. It can’t be anything good. Not when Tilly’s involved.”

  “She’s a good girl, you know?”

  He snorted at that. Of course Etta would have her best friend’s back. The two were as thick as thieves growing up and had only been parted for the first time this spring. “You would say that.” His fingers longed to hold her and pull her onto his lap. And why the hell couldn’t he now?

  So he did.

  “Wilhem?” she squeaked out at the sudden gesture.

  “That’s better. This conversation is so much more pleasurable this way.”

  “What if someone walks in and sees us?”

  “You’re right,” he nuzzled against her neck. “By God, we’ll have to get married,”

  “I’m serious,” she said, hands on his chest in a feeble attempt to push away from him.

  His hands roamed higher up her ribs, thumbs brushing gently just under the swell of her breasts. “So am I.” He squeezed her. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

  “Tilly could come back any moment from her ride⁠—”

  “Speaking of rides,” he arched up into her, “I think you need to take one.”

  “Wilhem.” But her hands yanked up her skirts and then thrust into his hair. “We might not have much time.”

  “Then we’ll make it good for you, won’t we?” Fingers on one hand unbuttoned his falls while the other hand gently massaged her lower back.

  Glassy eyes fell to his cock, and her mouth parted. “Is that for me?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Only you,” he rasped, leaning back and dragging her atop him. The feel of her slickness pulled his insides together and twisted hard, coiling. “Get on, Etta.”

  She didn’t hesitate, and when she plunged down onto him, they cried out together in deep contentment.

  “How can I already want more of you?” she asked lightly in his ear.

  “The same way I want more of you.” He thrust up into her, grinding against her clit. “I’ll never stop wanting you, Etta. I tried. God, I tried. I tried to outrun you, but there’s no outrunning my dreams.”

  “I tried, too, Wilhem. I thought it was a silly crush. I thought maybe Leland might be right about you. But he wasn’t.”

  “He wasn’t right about you either. He always worked so hard to protect you. Keep you safe. But he doesn’t see how strong you are. How courageous you are.”

  “I’m not courageous.” She tugged at his shirt, looking for an opening, rocking smoothly over him. Small movements. Intense sensations. “You’re the brave one.”

  “You took care of me and my ankle, wrapped it up, undaunted. No panic. You knew exactly what to do.”

  “I didn’t know what to do. I just…” her eyes met his, misty, “needed to take care of you. Make sure you were alright.”

  “That’s bravery, Etta. Doing what needs to be done, even when you don’t necessarily know the right answer. You figure it out.”

  “I’m glad we figured this out, Wilhem. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” With that, his mouth covered hers and their movements turned from gentle and rhythmic to frantic and feral.

  Only after she cried out his name, twice, did he let himself find his release in her. He would never tire of the way she felt and the way she made him feel. She was his, and she was his forever.

  They sat still embracing for a while afterward. Her head resting on his chest.

  “Which of my country homes do you like best?” Knowing her preferences pretty well, he could have chosen a home for them to live in all on his own. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to hear her opinions. He wanted her to choose. He wanted a partner. Someone to do life with, not dictate life to.

  “I like all of the ones I’ve visited for different reasons, but I’ve always enjoyed being close to Tilly.”

  “Then that’s how we’ll decide.”

  “Decide what?” she asked lazily, drawing loops on his chest.

  “Where we’ll live. Where we’ll spend most of our time.”

  Her head popped up. “But what about traveling?”