Page 24 of Claimed by Her Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #6)

THREE MONTHS LATER

P enelope stood at the altar, trying to ease her nerves to no avail.

“I have never noticed what a terrible fidget you are.”

She looked up from where she had been fussing over her bouquet and met the piercing gaze of her soon-to-be husband.

“I never thought I would have this,” she huffed. “I think I am allowed a little nervous fidgeting.”

“So even standing before the Duke of Blackstone, waiting to be his Duchess, does not help?”

“It definitely does not help.” She giggled. “How can I ever be a duchess?”

Edmund hummed. “That is a good question—you are far too vulgar.”

“Edmund!” She couldn’t help her laughter or her nervous glance around the chapel.

Her dress swished around her ankles, a beautiful thing that Edmund had bought for her. It was made of a most luxurious silk, with a wide neckline that accentuated her shoulders.

According to Arabella, who had helped him acquire the dress, Edmund had emphasized what the dress ought to highlight of Penelope’s figure. Small flowers were sewn into the sash that cinched her waist, and the skirt flowed right to the floor.

Penelope glanced towards where her friends sat. Cecilia and Reginald, Mary and Stephen, Daphne and Harry. They all beamed at her.

One night, she had told them what had happened between her and Edmund three months ago when she had walked away from him, thinking it was over before it had truly begun.

They had listened to her, and she had only just managed to make them fond of Edmund once more by recounting the way he had saved her from Finley. They had all been right, and she had not listened.

Controlwaite, indeed .

But that had been three months ago, and Finley was now in prison, where he would spend the rest of his life after Cyrus Reed’s testimony had confirmed him as the culprit behind it all, the ringmaster nobody had suspected.

And now she stood there, at the altar, facing her Duke and smiling.

“I wish we were already at the part where we can consummate our marriage,” Edmund whispered, his lips grazing her ear boldly.

“Edmund! Your family is watching.”

“So? Benjamin is overjoyed. Just look at the fool.”

Edmund’s cousin was indeed dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. When he caught her looking, he cleared his throat and waved at her.

Penelope had been formally introduced to him several weeks ago during a dinner with Edmund and Arabella. The trio had quite an amusing dynamic to behold, switching who teased whom rather often. Mostly, Benjamin was the butt of their jokes or Edmund’s temperament.

“I am glad he has found Lady Hannah,” Penelope whispered, turning away from the altar.

It seemed strange that she didn’t have any family to speak of. But Arabella was practically family, and Benjamin would be. Her friends were her family.

Edmund was about to become her family, and that was more than anything she could ask for.

“Oh, do not speak of her,” Edmund grumbled. “I hear enough of her name on my and Benjamin’s Sunday walks.”

Penelope sniggered under her breath. Her husband was not entirely impressed with his new weekly commitment, but Benjamin had insisted it was the best way to repair their bond, which had been fragile for too long. According to Edmund, that only meant that he didn’t speak as much as Benjamin wanted.

“It feels strange, though, that Julian is not here,” she said, having met the escort during their times at his house. Although she had not seen him frequently ever since, she missed him in the small crowd. “After all, he was the reason we met.”

“A scandalous reminder,” Edmund murmured. “I wonder if the ton suspects the truth.”

“I find myself not caring.” She smiled, tilting her head back to gaze up at him.

“What do you care about, then, future Duchess of Blackstone?”

She leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper something filthy about how they might consummate their marriage that night, and Edmund laughed aloud along with her before they were hushed, and the ceremony began.

Penelope had never known true joy and happiness like it.

* * *

The wedding breakfast was held in Blackstone Manor, and although Penelope had visited the townhouse several times since Edmund had proposed, she still never failed to marvel at the beautiful estate. The dining hall was long, with large windows down the right side that let the sunlight flood in and bathe the top table where Penelope and Edmund sat.

Around them, their guests chattered, and for a woman who had only ever known silent, tense dinners in the recent years of her life in Langwaite Manor, Penelope couldn’t help but smile at being surrounded by their loved ones.

“I like this,” she told Edmund, leaning in and lacing her fingers through his. “Our familiesgathered together, here to celebrate us.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple even as he looked around. “Indeed, but I fear Lady Hannah is being scandalized by Lady Wetherby.”

Penelope followed his gaze to find Benjamin’s betrothed looking very scandalized and Arabellalaughing aloud at whatever had been said. She sniggered and then nodded towards the man at Arabella’s side.

“I recall him,” she said. “Lord Graham, is it not?”

“It is,” Edmund confirmed. “He is nice enough.”

Penelope caught his eye and smirked. “You do not like him.”

“I like him,” Edmund protested. “I had my reservations about him at first, but he makes Arabellahappy. That is all a brother could ever wish for.”

His expression faltered, but Penelope, even though her own heart lurched, only smiled and waved it off. She had been working with Edmund through the aftermath of Finley’s assault and how it had left her feeling.

Some nights she slept and woke up imagining hands pinning her wrists in a way that she had not asked for, and she would beg Edmund to replace that touch with something safe—something that she could trust and wanted. Other nights she cried, for she had felt rather invalid.

“After all, he did not get to… did not get to…” she would stutter.

“He got far enough,” Edmund would growl, and then kiss away the furrow between her eyebrows and the worry on her tongue.

And then he would remind her that was his and his alone, and she would try not to think about what could have happened that day had he not stormed into her room.

“Regardless,” Edmund said. “Lord Graham makes her happy, and I have no objections. I promised her that no matter what, I would take into consideration the man who makes her happy. He has expressed his intention to propose, and I have approved it.”

Penelope gasped, leaning in close to him as if they shared a secret. “When will he ask her, do you think?”

“Soon.” He smiled. “He said that he did not want to overshadow our engagement and wedding. Itold him it was an insult to suggest that we could be overshadowed by him. He all but fled in apology.”

“You will tease him for the rest of his life.” Penelope laughed.

Edmund tilted her chin up and caught her gaze once more.

“I shall tease you for the rest of our life together,” he corrected. “And we will have every moment to ourselves for as long as we wish, and if anybody dares to interrupt?—”

“Penelope.”

The drawl came from Cecilia as their guests began to mingle and plates were cleared away. Soon, Penelope would be whisked to the dance floor by Edmund for their first dance as husband and wife.

“You two look positively in love, and… well, I do not wish to steal any thunder, of course, but I did have a hand in predicting such a union, no?”

Penelope grinned. “Indeed, Cecilia.”

“Our Penelope, a bride broken free from her prison—fleeing the suffocating vines andflowers that most think are beautiful but upon closer inspection realize are poison—finally wed to her dark husband of the shadows. It is poetic, and I adore it. I adore you both. Heavens, just do not have children too soon. A woman should continue enjoying her body alongside her husband before she starts birthing children.”

Edmund surprised Penelope with a loud laugh. “Cecilia, you are rather fascinating. I wish my mother had met you, for she would have dropped to the floor in a dead faint—the very proper lady she was.”

“Oh, nonsense. Daphne claims to be a proper lady, but oh , the things she has recently spilledto me about herself and Harry! Penelope, I must catch you up on everything. We shall gather before the dancing begins, but do not forget that we will all join you in Blackstone Hall after your honeymoon.”

Excitement shot through Penelope at the thought of retreating to Edmund’s countryside estate with them for a secluded time. She agreed with Cecilia and watched as her friend went to introduce herself to several other guests.

Edmund leaned in. “They might wish to gossip before our first dance, but I wish to make your legs weak before it.”

His lips brushed the top of her neck almost too indecently, given their company, but the hand he had laced with hers already pulled her out of her chair, tugging them through a door and into another room.

“Edmund, it is our wedding?—”

He pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her protests, as he hoisted her up and carried her to a mirrored wall adjacent to the dining hall. Her legs locked around his waist, and he kissed his way to the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose.

His teeth tugged on her earlobe as he murmured, “If you are good and quiet for me, then our guests will barely notice we are gone and will suspect nothing. Let me take you right here, against these mirrors. I cannot go another second looking at you in your wedding gown without taking full advantage of your new status, and I get to bed you anywhere I please. No more secrecy.”

She made a pleased, soft noise at that as his hands pushed up her skirt. “Hmm, and you aremy husband,” she purred. He shuddered at the use of his new title. “And I believe a husband has a most important duty to make his wife satisfied in every way.”

“I intend to do that,” he promised in a low voice, his fingers brushing her heat.

They had coupled the night before, languishing in their own time without having to race against the dawn.

“I intend to do that on every surface of Blackstone Hall.” His tongue swiped over her skin before his lips sucked on it. “There will be no wall, no piece of furniture, no floor or stair that will not know the shape of us.”

Penelope’s breath caught, and she pulled him closer.

They didn’t have a lot of time, but she did notmind. Their hasty couplings were some of her favorites—they always reminded her of their first time in the library.

“Sometimes it will be quick,” Edmund continued, his eyes meeting hers as he spun her to face the mirror behind her.

Her back pressed to his chest, and the sight of them in their wedding attire, him looming over her, knowing they had made it through everything together, had her automatically spreading her legs as he moved his hand between them.

“A rushed moment between meetings and social calls, for I would be unable to leave you alone for too long. Other times I will take my time to unravel you, my dear wife.” He growled the title against her skin, right as he pushed his fingers inside her to ensure that she was ready.

“Do not make me wait,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing in their reflection.

The way she could watch them together… the way he watched her, the way he touched her, the moments she often missed were now reflected in the mirror.

“I recall the days you used to say please very nicely,” he teased, but he was already taking himself out of his breeches. “Say it now for me, Penelope.”

She smirked, though the expression wasn’t as bold as she wanted it to be, for he languidly curled his fingers inside her. “I-I am the Duchess of Blackstone. I shall not plead.”

“Shall I plead with you, then?” Edmund’s gaze was utterly heated.

“First you kneeled before me, and now you are pleading,” she breathed, laughing through the pleasure he was wringing from her.

“Anything for the Duchess of Blackstone.”

Heavens, the way he called her that as he did this, as he looked at her… It felt perfect . Truly, completely perfect.

He guided her face to his, seeking her mouth.

Against her lips, Edmund asked, “Can I claim you, Your Grace? Let me take you as my equal while our guests await our return, for they will be none the wiser.”

The title was foreign to her ears, a thing she was not used to, but hearing her husband calling her his equal, hearing what he asked for… she thought she would climax right on the spot.

“I am always yours to claim, Your Grace.”

And then he was inside her, sheathing himself fully in her heat, and she gasped.

She fell forward, her fingers splayed on the mirror. Smudges of her fingerprints appeared immediately, her breath clouding the surface as Edmund began to thrust into her without hesitation. He let out a quiet groan as her walls tightened around him.

Neither of them would last long, not with the way they could watch one another, and not with the way they had to hurry.

He was heavy and hot inside her, his length pulsing with every roll of his hips. Penelope could barely hold back her moans, and Edmund slipped his fingers into her mouth to stifle them. She suckled on the digits, whimpering around them as he took her hastily, roughly, careful of her wedding gown.

Her face flushed, and she gazed back at her pleasure-addled reflection. Sometimes, she still wondered what Edmund saw in her that made him call her beautiful and desirable, even all those months ago.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. Together, they were a sultry sight—a stolen bride of the dark Hades, indeed.

Bracing a hand on her hip to keep her skirts up, Edmund slammed into her as she clenched around him.

“Beautiful,” he panted, kissing the back of her neck. “You have always been beautiful.”

Penelope moaned quietly around his fingers as he thrust into her powerfully but quickly, bringing her close to her peak in that skilled, knowing way. He had learned her body and knew how to play it to his desire.

She gave in, her hand grasping his wrist, grounded by his touch.

She climaxed, and he followed her. For the first time, he did not pull out of her as he spilled his seed. For the first time, they were joined as a husband and wife, their future vast, neither having to be careful any longer.

Penelope gave a slow, dreamy smile as he breathed hard against her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder as his length softened and he tucked himself back into his breeches, before fixing her skirts.

“I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Duchess,” he told her. “And it seems we may start tonight, for there is a new chaise lounge waiting for us—a gift from Julian. A little joke, he said, to honor where we began.”

Penelope whirled around, kissing him with every ounce of love in her. “I love you, Edmund. No amount of time with you will ever be enough.”

“The fact that you can take such a ruined, scarred man and make him a good husband is a feat that impresses me already. Every day I spend with you, I am reminded of how you saved me.”

“And you saved me,” she whispered back, kissing him once again.

Kissing him into the start of their life together.

The End?