Page 35 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

T hat night after dinner, Anastasia wanted to clear her head.

She decided to go for a walk. The town itself was bustling during the day and a little busy at night, but there was a pretty green space and wooded area that attracted her, and so she donned her warm aubergine cloak and began walking as the sky settled from golden and purple hues into twilight.

The night air was cool and delicious against her skin, and she felt…

She didn’t know. Hopeful and heartbroken.

Excited and anxious. Worried and thrilled at seeing Mr. Hardwicke again.

Mr. Hardwicke had come all this way, to fight for her.

To restore her honor. She didn’t want him to die.

She wasn’t worth it. But he seemed not to take no for an answer, and she did not know what to think about that.

Betsey and Mary had gone to bed, as had her uncle, for the days of fast traveling had worn everyone out.

The older man had had a good meal after finding them outside the smithy and had taken to his bed, declaring the journey had tired him.

He knew nothing about the impending duel, for which Anastasia was glad.

He would no doubt try to prevent her and Betsey from going, and she was not going to miss it.

She too felt tired, but also restless. She had not spoken with Mr. Hardwicke since that moment in the library.

In the moments after the duel had been announced, she’d tried to speak to him, privately, but he’d simply walked away.

Now she wondered what would become of them.

Anastasia began walking, and it was not long after she entered the wood that she realized she had a follower. A shadow. Someone was walking after her, a little distance away.

Her instincts warning her, she became quickly aware that she had no weapon, nothing to defend herself with. How could she have been so silly as to go wandering out in a town, alone, at night, with no protection? She hid behind a tree and knelt to pick up a rock at her feet.

The figure kept walking and stopped a short distance away. “It’s all right, Miss Banks, it’s only me,” Mr. Hardwicke’s voice came.

Anastasia relaxed and dropped the rock, brushing her hands on her skirts. She came out of hiding. “Mr. Hardwicke.”

“Miss Banks.”

They bowed and curtsied to one another, despite the wooden glen in which they found themselves. Anastasia appreciated the gesture, for she approved of manners no matter the setting.

“You shouldn’t be walking out alone,” he said, coming to her.

“I know. I just had that thought when I spotted you following me.”

“You’re lucky it was me and not some drunken lout.”

“I’ve had my fill of those,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured into her ear, drawing her into a kiss.

Her eyes fluttered closed. Oh, to be in his arms again.

It was like stepping into the best hug in the world, and she breathed in the scent of him.

She smelled the woods, the grass, the hard tree against her back, and the clean scent of his skin.

He wore no cologne, but he smelled… delicious.

She nibbled his lip and he looked at her, his eyes dark and full.

“You little imp,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck.

She giggled and pulled him closer, wanting to feel his warmth against her.

Then she felt it. He’d gotten an erection.

She blinked and froze. A part of her wanted this, wanted him.

The other part of her, her mind, her logic, her practicality and decision to be a spinster for the rest of her days, it all made her pause.

“Miss Banks. What is wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to do this. Don’t duel. Refuse. Cancel it.”

“I have to. The insult to your good name and your honor cannot stand.”

A surge of warmth filled her chest. Did he truly care for her?

“I… So you know my history?”

“I do. I read about it along with everyone else.” He pulled back and rested his hands on her waist, feeling her hips through her dress. “And I don’t care.”

Her eyes filled with wonder. “You don’t? Why not?”

He met her gaze, his expression serious. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

“I… Yes.” She paused as he held her close.

His fingers on her hips felt wonderful, and he wrapped his arms around her so they were warm, despite the chill in the air.

“I was very young. We courted for a time, and I foolishly agreed to lie with him, give him my virtue. I thought as he was so dashing and handsome, and he was keen, that this would give our relationship new meaning, and it would bring us to announcing our engagement. But I was wrong.”

She remembered the sweaty, scratchy bedsheets against her skin.

The surprise and shame she’d felt after realizing she had lain with a man who didn’t care for her.

“It was the day my mother died of a fever. I was foolish and spending time with Jeremiah across town, when I should have been at my mother’s bedside.

She lay dying, and I…” She shook her head.

Mr. Hardwicke brushed aside a stray tendril of hair and pulled her into a hug.

She said softly in his ear, “That’s why I’ve been so protective of Betsey. Especially when she started to fall for his brother. I worried that Percy would be just like Jeremiah and treat her the same. I didn’t want her to end up like me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there?” She pushed him back and stared at him boldly. “I’m not a maid, Mr. Hardwicke. I traded my virtue for a hope that was never there. I was dumb and foolish, and—”

“You are neither of those things. You are young, and you made mistakes, and I think you’ve punished yourself enough. More than anyone else could. And I… I think you are beautiful.”

“But I’m old, and—”

He put a finger to her lips. “None of that. You are not old. You are smart, and practical, and loyal to your sister, and sometimes I lose my train of thought, just looking at you when you enter a room. To want you and not have you would make any man lose his wits. For too long, you have blamed yourself for a mistake. It’s time you forgave yourself. ”

“But I…” She felt her shoulders relax, just a fraction.

“Your sister will make a very fine match, thanks to you.” He pulled her close and rested his lips against her neck.

“Please don’t duel. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I am a very good shot. You should have more confidence in me. You should be asking yourself what I plan to do with you afterward…”

She shivered, and his hands moved to knead her hips, digging into them with his thumbs, and curving around the back of her bottom. She looked up at him.

Their eyes met, and he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. What had begun as a warm and gentle kiss grew into something more. Something heated.

She felt his erection hard against her, and she felt herself becoming damp between her legs. She wanted him. He squeezed her bottom and pulled her close, kissing her breasts. She moaned softly, which encouraged him more.

He slowly backed her up against a tree and said, “May I have the pleasure, Miss Banks?”

Anastasia nodded. She leaned back and helped him raise her skirts and petticoats, as he wet two fingers of his and slipped them in between her legs, tracing along her upper thighs, stroking her.

She gasped. His eyes danced as he began to loosen his trousers and kissed her madly, letting him press himself against her opening.

She lost herself in his kisses and his touch, until suddenly, he was there.

Her legs opened wider and she let him in. Anastasia hadn’t felt a man’s touch in so long, she’d forgotten. She prepared herself for the pain and the weight, when he stopped and pulled back. “Miss Banks, you don’t need to be so stiff. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to pleasure you.”

“But I thought…”

“Let me show you.” He lifted her chin with his hands and kissed her deeply. What he began with kisses led to his fingers and tongue exploring her.

She decided in that moment that even if they only had this night, this moment in time, she would lie with him, even if it meant nothing at all.

She may have been throwing herself away again, but this time, it was with a man who seemed not only to care for her, but who was willing to die for her.

That sort of man didn’t come around every day.

She didn’t know of any young woman who was so lucky to have found such a love.

For that was what she felt at that moment, through her haze of lust. She wanted him, yes.

But she loved him too. At least tonight, she would be in the arms of a man who wanted her and wanted her to enjoy herself.

That was more than what Jeremiah had done, and she swiftly banished all thoughts of him from her mind.

She looked into Mr. Hardwicke’s eyes, and he mouthed, “I love you.”

Time slowed to the march of a pair of steady heartbeats.

She found herself arched against the tree, her legs wrapped around him as he tumbled her to the grass and arranged their cloaks beneath her, and she gave herself to him.

She felt hungry for him, and sore, and oh-so-wet.

She panted beneath him. And when she succumbed to the wave of pleasure that rode her, it was Mr. Hardwicke’s name she cried out into the night.

Once they had finished, he kissed her sweetly. They both dressed and rearranged themselves, now feeling the chilly night air once more.

Mr. Hardwicke pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her cheek. “Are you well?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She walked back with him. “Please, won’t you reconsider? There is no need to fight.”

“On the contrary, Miss Banks, I have every need.” He gave her a heated look, and she tried not to blush.

“I don’t want you to die for me,” she whispered.