Page 10 of Midnight Rendezvous (Sins & Sensibilities #4)

CHAPTER 10

A fter half an hour, the physician left, the door clicking shut softly. Penny stood in the corridor, fingers curled around the edge of her borrowed gown.

The hallway clock struck a solemn hour—nearly two in the morning. She should have left. Penny knew it with every breath she took. Each minute she remained threatened ruin and scandal. Her reputation would be shredded if anyone found her here—if anyone even suspected. Her family's ambitions, her sister's happiness, everything could be lost.

And yet... she opened the door and stepped inside.

Alexander lay sprawled on the bed, the sheets tangled around his hips, his hands clenched in the linen as if to anchor himself. His broad chest shuddered beneath a sheen of sweat, and a violent tremor racked his body.

Penny's heart lurched. She hurried to him, kneeling by the bed, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. "Should I recall the physician?" she asked anxiously.

His jaw was clenched tight, teeth grinding together as he forced out, "No. I'm cold. That's all. He's done his duty."

Still, she turned and rang the bell, summoning a maid. When the servant arrived, sleepy-eyed, Penny pointed to the hearth. "More logs. Quickly, please."

Once the fire had been stirred and new wood crackled into bright life, the warmth spread slowly through the chamber. But Alexander was still trembling. Penny returned to the edge of the bed, hesitant, unsure what more she could do. She reached out, brushing another lock of hair from his brow.

His eyes snapped open, narrowed to slits, gleaming with both fever and something sharper—something mocking.

"You should leave," he rasped. "Go home, Penny. Or," his lips curled faintly, "you could climb in beside me and keep me warm."

Her heart stuttered. She met his gaze squarely, searching it. Beneath the glint of mockery, there was a vulnerability so raw she felt it like a touch on her skin.

She stood, wordless. Toed off her boots. And climbed onto the bed. Without hesitation, she slipped beneath the sheets and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her body gently to his. Her cheek came to rest against the warm plane of his chest, just above his racing heart.

He froze beneath her as if stunned by the intimacy. But she felt the furious pounding of his heartbeat— thump, thump, thump —and she knew... he was not unaffected.

"You're not afraid?" he asked, voice low and dark. "That I'll toss up your skirts and bury my cock inside your sweet little pussy?"

Heat surged into her cheeks at his deliberate crudity. But she did not pull away. She knew exactly what he was doing—trying to provoke her, to make her leave.

"No," she said softly. "You would not force me to do something I do not want."

A sharp scoff escaped him, but he said nothing more. Slowly, inch by inch, his body relaxed into hers. The trembling stopped. Penny exhaled and held him tighter, her palm splayed across his bare chest. Her fingers brushed over the rough ridges of old scars, the memories they must carry. She could not name the ache in her chest—only that it bloomed deeper, heavier, with each breath he took against her.

Time passed. The fire snapped gently. Shadows danced across the walls. And then, in a voice just above a whisper, she said, "Perhaps... we could be friends."

He made no reply. But his arm slid around her waist, firm and sure, drawing her closer. She felt the deliberate press of his palm against her back, the way he tucked her beneath his chin. As if he needed her there. As if he could not—would not—let her go.

Her eyes stung. She closed them and whispered, "Who hurt you, Alexander?"

For a moment, she thought he would not answer. She felt the tension gather in his body, the sharp pull of breath held in his lungs. Then, quietly, he said, "My father."

Pain speared her. "I'm sorry."

His reply was a low growl. "Why? It wasn't your doing."

"No," she murmured. "But it still breaks my heart. Fathers should protect their children, not hurt them."

Alexander exhaled. "Mine was meant for the clergy. He was, in fact, a gentleman—but he could be pious. He didn't think it was hurting me. Only correcting me. Spare the rod and spoil the child, and all that."

"You excuse away the pain he caused," she said softly.

"No. I only understand it. Whatever resentment I held... it's long faded."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"And what was he saving you from?"

A corner of his mouth quirked. "Depravity."

Something within her tensed. A warning. But she ignored it. "What depravity?"

His fingers briefly tightened on her shoulder.

"He found me with my lover. She was older by a few years, but I had her bound—hands and feet. I was... spanking her cunt."

Penny flinched, shock jolting through her. Her mouth opened, then closed. He was unapologetic about his desires, possessing an unsettling ability to cut through pretense and speak directly to her heart. And though it unsettled her, a part of Penny—the part that cherished honesty—appreciated that he never treated her as if she were meant to be coddled. "Was she willing?" she finally whispered.

"Yes," he said. "Very much. But that didn't matter to him. He believed I was corrupting the very nature of love."

She swallowed, her heart fluttering wildly. "Do you... still...?"

"Still tie my lovers up?" he finished for her.

She gave a small nod.

"I do."

"You didn't tie me."

His eyes sharpened. "You were meant to be my wife."

Penny's breath caught. "And your wife isn't meant for those desires?"

He said nothing for a long moment. Then, tersely, "A wife is meant to be cherished. Protected. That side of me isn't meant for her."

A dull ache bloomed in her chest. "So you would take a mistress?"

"You think me so dishonorable?"

"No," she said quietly. "I don't."

His mouth tightened. "I would deny myself."

She stared at him, aghast. "Why must your wife be unworthy of all that you are?"

That made him still. His gaze flared, but his voice, when it came, was tight. "Because sometimes... a man's desires can offend a lady's sensibilities. Distress her dignity."

To Penny's surprise, a laugh escaped her. "Oh, how silly," she said, breathless with amusement. "How men flatter themselves, thinking wives and mistresses have different appetites, different hearts. We are women, and I daresay we are fashioned in the same regard."

Alexander's gaze softened. He reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek. "Your laugh is so damn lovely."

The air between them shifted—thickened. His eyes darkened with that unmistakable hunger he had warned her about earlier. She felt the weight of it pulse through her, curling low in her belly. Her breath hitched. Alexander meant what he said about burying his cock inside her pussy. She blushed, recalling the words. He could have her now. He wanted to.

And she—

No. No.

Penny flushed and abruptly pulled from his arms, scrambling to her feet. "I must go."

He didn't stop her. But the gleam in his eyes said he knew how close she'd come to staying. The ache in her palm grounded her—the sharp sting from where she'd dug in her fingernails to resist herself. Penny would not fall again, not when she knew what was coming. The duke would announce their engagement this season.

Alexander watched her with growing coldness as if he saw the walls slamming back into place between them. He threw the sheet aside, rose from the bed, and began to dress.

"What are you doing?"

"I will escort you home."

" Home ?" she said. "I walked here. I can walk back."

He gave her a look that made it clear she was being ridiculous and didn't dignify it with an answer. Instead, he pulled on his coat and rang for the carriage.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat in silence, the soft clatter of wheels and the rhythmic thud of hooves the only sounds between them. Penny sat stiffly, hands folded in her lap, her parasol beside her. The street gaslamps passed in gentle flickers through the window as the carriage rolled through the darkened city.

When it stopped at a discreet distance from her home, she reached for the door.

"Penny."

She froze at the sound of her name on his lips and glanced over her shoulder.

He watched her in the dim light, his face unreadable. "Thank you."

She met his gaze and gave him a soft smile.

Then, after a moment, he added, "Friends... We can be friends. A novel idea, a man and woman being friends, but I already know... a friendship with you would be something I'd treasure."

Her heart squeezed painfully.

She smiled again and stepped down from the carriage. With quiet urgency, she slipped down the narrow path that led to the servant's entrance and disappeared inside. Behind her, the carriage lingered in the dark just a moment longer before it rolled into the night.