Page 19 of Midnight Rendezvous (Sins & Sensibilities #4)

CHAPTER 19

T he carriage wheels rumbled steadily over the uneven roads, the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting through the slightly cracked window. Penny sat rigid, her gloved hands folded tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the mist-covered fields rolling past in a blur. Her mother and sister sat across from her—Henrietta softly humming, her excitement impossible to contain, while their mother regarded Penny with an increasingly irritated expression.

They were on their way to Derbyshire. To the Duke of Merrick's estate. To her wedding. A private ceremony, he'd said. Only family and a few close friends would be present as witnesses for their wedding ceremony held in the small, elegant chapel on his grounds. Penny had quietly agreed. She suspected he knew what lingered between her and Alexander, which was why everything was moving so quickly. The banns had not been read. Instead, the duke had procured a special license and the invitations were sent quietly, without fanfare.

Penny's chest ached. She had barely eaten for days. Her thoughts tangled, torn between grief and longing and a hollow dread that even now, she might still be making a mistake. She had chosen duty. Honor. But at what cost?

"Do try to smile," her mother snapped, breaking into her thoughts. "It is your wedding day, Penelope. Try not to look as though you are being carted to an execution."

Penny flinched and turned her face to the window, blinking fast. Shouting sounded from outside, and the carriage lurched. The horses screamed. Her sister shrieked. Penny's breath caught as the carriage came to a sharp, jarring stop.

"Highwaymen!" the driver shouted.

Her mother gasped, "In Derbyshire ? Upon my word, are we to be robbed ?"

A moment later, the carriage door was yanked open. A masked man loomed before them, pistol drawn and voice rough.

"Out. Now."

Terror shot through her like a lightning bolt. Henrietta whimpered, clutching their mother. Penny's heart pounded. But she moved, her body obeying before her thoughts could catch up.

"I said now ."

"I'm coming," she whispered, her voice shaking.

She stepped down, and the man seized her arm. Before she could even scream, she was swept up—lifted effortlessly—and tossed onto the back of a massive black stallion. Penny gasped, clutching at the coarse mane, her entire body trembling. The masked man mounted behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and with a sharp whistle, the horse surged into motion.

She barely had time to scream, " No !"

Visions of ruin and scandal flushed through her thoughts. Oh, God ! "Take me back!"

Penny was ignored, and her eyes narrowed. "I am sure you've heard the name Bainbridge. He is known as the bare-knuckle king of London. His fists are vicious and unrelenting. If you harm me in any way, he will kill you."

"I'm not going to hurt you," the man said against her ear, his voice lower, familiar and amused.

Penny stilled. It couldn't be. She twisted on the horse, reached up and dragged off the mask. It fell away with a tug, and her breath locked in her throat. "Alexander?"

His jaw was hard, his mouth grim. "Yes."

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" she cried. "This is...this...you are kidnapping me ?"

"Yes," he said so casually as if these were normal actions of a gentleman.

"You must take me back!"

"I'm never taking you back, and you are not marrying Merrick."

Her head whipped around. Oh, God, why was her heart thrilling with the disaster looming?

"It was announced," she said, stricken.

Alexander didn't look at her. He didn't waver. "You were never meant to marry him. And you are not meant to sacrifice your happiness for your father's poor management of his estates and inheritance. For the last four days, I hired a man of affairs to investigate the full extent of your father's debts. They are severe. But mine were worse."

He paused, his voice low and steady. "Correction—they were worse. I have bled and fought and pushed. I invested whatever money I could. I did not buy new clothes or new paintings for my household. I did not sacrifice my two sisters by forcing them to marry for money, against their hearts, against their happiness, so I could continue living a life of ease. They are in the country with my mother, waiting for me to do my duty and ensure their happiness. Your father and Thomas will not sacrifice you. I will not allow it. And Penny?"

"Yes?" she whispered, her voice cracking, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"If you do marry Merrick, it will kill something in you. And in me."

Those soft words tore through her like a sharpened blade.

"You don't get to make that choice for me!" she shouted, inexplicably scared. "I understand everything you say. We are on the brink. Yet Father bought a new painting recently. Mama refurnished the drawing room. And Thomas walks about in the first stare of fashion. But I am still a part of the family. And you can't—"

"You've made your choices," he said tightly. "And I've made mine."

She wanted to scream. Hit him. Weep. But the wind lashed her cheeks, and his arm was a steel band around her waist, keeping her pressed to his body as the horse galloped across the countryside. Thirty minutes later, they reached a stone cabin tucked between trees—a secluded hunting lodge, its roof dusted with moss and its windows shuttered.

He dismounted, then lifted her down with maddening gentleness. "This cottage belonged to Raine. I bought it from him two days ago."

"You are mad ," she whispered.

"Only for you."

And without waiting for permission, Alexander pushed open the cabin door and carried her inside. The door shut behind them with a dull thud , sealing them into shadow and silence.

Penny turned on him, trembling. "You had no right to take me from that carriage! Alexander, please—"

"I had every right," he snapped, voice low. "You would've married a man you do not love. You would've wasted your life out of duty."

"My life is not yours to dictate! Allow me to think and decide for myself because—"

"No," he said, stepping closer, his voice hoarse, "I cannot bear to stand by and watch you give yourself to someone else when I know the truth—when I've felt it in your every touch, every look, every stolen moment between us."

Alexander took another step, his eyes blazing with torment and love. "I love you, Penny. I fucking love you with every breath in my lungs, every emotion in my soul. It's not a passing desire, it's not infatuation—it's bone-deep and maddening. It's why I've fought until my knuckles bled, why I let my body take brutal punishment in those underground rings. I was driven by more than duty to my family. I was driven by you . By the dream of becoming enough."

His voice dropped, rough with longing. "I wanted to give your father the funds he needed, not just to prove myself worthy, but so I could offer you everything. Not because you ever asked for it. You never would. But because you deserve it. Luxury. Safety. Freedom. The world, if I could place it at your feet. I wanted you to be my countess."

Alexander exhaled, his voice softer but no less fierce. "And the cruelest part is knowing that you would still choose me even without the gowns, the diamonds, or the title. And yet, here we are. And I'm losing you."

Penny gasped, the heat of his nearness overwhelming. Her fists balled at her sides—and then she launched herself into his chest, crushing her mouth to his.

I love you , she silently screamed.

The kiss was wild. Frantic. All her aching love and longing poured into it as he groaned and clutched her to him. His hands cupped her face and her hips and roved over her body like he didn't know where to touch first. She kissed him harder, tangling her fingers in his hair, breathing him in like she'd been suffocating.

"I hate you for stripping me so bare that I cannot hide my feelings," she whispered against his mouth, sobbing. "For making me want this so much."

"I'll live with your hate," he said hoarsely, lifting her in his arms. "So long as I can have this."

He laid her down on the small bed, undressing her with trembling hands, unbuttoning, unlacing, reverently kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. Her gown slipped away, and then her stays, her chemise. She was bare before him, and he looked at her like she was made of starlight.

"You're beautiful," he said, brushing her cheek. "God help me."

Then he kissed her again—deep and slow this time—like he meant for her to remember him in every bone of her body. Alexander dipped his head and pressed a kiss just behind her ear. Penny shivered, tilting her neck to give him better access. The feel of his lips on her skin and the hush of his breath all left her trembling with anticipation.

"I must confess," he murmured against her throat, "I fully intend to punish you for daring to consider another man. You were riding toward him...and by tonight, you would have been in his arms."

Penny let out a shaky breath, stunned by the dark hunger and agony in his tone. "Punish me?" she whispered.

"With such pleasure, you'll beg for mercy."

Her pulse raced. Fear didn't live in her chest, only a bone-deep awareness of him. He slid a hand along her waist and down to her sex, his possession firm and unrelenting.

"I want you ruined for anyone else," he murmured, his teeth scraping gently at her skin. "By morning, you'll only remember my touch. Only ache for me."

Penny clutched at his coat, breathless.

"I cannot stay," she whispered, pushing through the ache.

He shoved two fingers inside her sex. She cried out, the sensation startling, wicked, and unbearably good. Her knees nearly buckled as he pressed harder and deeper.

"I won't be gentle," he said roughly. "Not with what I feel. I'll keep you writhing beneath me until you forget you are still wanting and telling me to let you go."

A tremor of longing tore through her. She was burning—everywhere he touched sparked heat. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers.

"Then don't be gentle," she whispered. "I want all of you."

His eyes darkened, and he captured her lips with such raw, searing hunger it left her boneless. His mouth was both promise and punishment—kissing her deeply, relentlessly, as if he needed her to breathe. His hands explored her body with reverence and heat. He groaned low and gathered her close, burying his face in her neck as if trying to memorize her scent. "You undo me," he rasped.

He kissed every inch of her skin, tasting her, worshipping her, branding her with every stroke of his hands and lips. When his mouth moved lower, she gasped and arched, every nerve alight as waves of sensation rolled through her. Penny felt utterly possessed by his skill, focus, and the deliberate way he coaxed her toward rapture.

And when he finally moved over her, bracing himself above, their eyes met.

"You're my lover, Penny," he said, voice hoarse. "No one else. No one."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to say yes but could not.

Despite his promise of roughness, Alexander entered her slowly, deeply, a breath stolen from his chest and hers as their bodies joined. The world spun away, leaving only skin sliding against skin, the desperate gasps, and the kisses between each thrust that unraveled her. He moved with a fierce and tender rhythm as if he'd waited years for this moment.

Penny clung to him, meeting him stroke for stroke, each movement carving her deeper into his soul.

"Alexander."

She moaned his name, the sound ragged and filled with feeling. Her climax hit hard, shattering her, and he held her through it, whispering her name like a vow. He plunged deeper, and Penny arched into his touch, wrapping her legs around his hips. He moved inside her in long, sinuous thrusts, taking his time, his lips brushing her throat, her temple.

She touched him, learned from him, and offered everything without words. And when they fell together—when their bodies locked and broke and burned—Penny knew no other man could ever feel this way. A groan torn from the depths of him, his body trembling with release. Long moments passed before either of them moved. He kissed her brow, and she tucked her face into his neck, hearts still thundering in tandem.

Penny nestled into his chest, their bodies still joined, their breath slowly returning. "I love you," she whispered.

He stilled and then gently kissed the crown of her head. "I love you," he said.

She closed her eyes. But reality, cruel and relentless, returned too quickly. "I have to go back," she whispered. "I cannot stay here with you, Alexander. My family will be worried...and the duke..." Penny swallowed. "We have not gone long. There might be a way to avoid scandal and ruination."

His body stiffened. Alexander pulled away, cold now. Distant.

"I cannot," he said harshly. "I cannot take you back to him."

"Please," she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. His jaw clenched. But slowly, mechanically, he stood and began to dress. Not looking at her. Neither of them spoke as he helped her into her gown. He was stiff and formal, his hands careful but impersonal. The warmth was gone. Minutes later, she was in the saddle, riding in front of him again—but the ride was cold and wordless.

More than an hour had passed before they finally reached the outskirts of the duke's estate. Penny was clasped in his arms as his stallion pounded across the country road, the wind pulling at his coat, her soft breath warming the crook of his neck. Her silence was a weight he could feel in every flex of his arms around her. She was thinking—he could feel her thinking—and it gutted him.

She had chosen not him. Again. And this time... he would let her go and ruthlessly squash his feelings. Because he could not survive loving her in half-measures, he could not watch her become a duchess or pretend at friendship when every glance and shared breath unraveled the barriers he'd fought to build between them. He would not dishonor himself—or her—with stolen moments and aching restraint. He would not live in torment, knowing he could never truly have her.

The imposing country mansion came into view, sprawling and proud atop a hill framed by old oaks and hedgerows, its grey stone facade catching the morning sun. A full party waited at the grand entrance. The Duke of Merrick stood at the top of the steps, calm and unreadable. Beside him, Penny's family: her father with thunder in his eyes, her sister clutching her shawl, and Thomas—grim, wary, but silent. Her mother looked as though she might collapse from scandal alone.

As the horse skidded to a halt, Penny slipped from the saddle with the grace of a woman breaking apart. She didn't look back. She ran straight into her sister's arms. Alexander gritted his teeth and turned his horse away, heart thundering with the pain he refused to show.

"Please, wait ! Alexander!"

Her voice hit him like a lash.

He stopped and wheeled his horse around. Penny stood just before her family now, her spine straight despite the disarray of her hair, the flush on her cheeks, the fear shimmering in her eyes.

"I presume you rescued my fiancée from the clutches of highwaymen," the Duke of Merrick said, his tone clipped and aristocratically cool. "How fortunate you were nearby to offer your assistance. We are in your debt, Lord Bainbridge."

His words were polite, but they had an unmistakable edge—calculated civility masking suspicion, pride, and something darker beneath.

Standing tall in his formal coat, Penny's father exhaled sharply, the relief written plainly across his face. Her mother pressed a trembling hand to her chest, eyes darting from Alexander to Penny, comprehension dawning like a slow, chilling tide.

This—this was their salvation. A way out of scandal. A way to appease a duke's bruised ego and avoid the stain that would have followed Penny forever.

Henrietta, wide-eyed beside them, blinked in confusion. Her gaze flitted between the adults, trying to make sense of the tension humming in the air. Though young, she sensed the undercurrent of disaster waiting to unfold.

Alexander's eyes found Penny's, and what he saw in her expression hollowed something in his chest. She looked stricken. Terrified. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound emerged.

"You are welcome," he said at last, his voice rough with emotion, though he schooled it to a casual drawl. His fingers tightened imperceptibly on the reins. "I bid you all farewell."

"I want to say something," Penny said, her voice steady but soft. "And I must say it only once, before my courage breaks. I would like Lord Bainbridge to hear it."

Everything inside Alexander stilled.

Penny turned, her eyes shining as she swept her gaze across her mother, father, brother, and duke.

Her chin lifted. "I am deeply in love with Lord Bainbridge."

Her mother swooned. Her father made a sound of outrage. The duke... remained still, unreadable. And Alexander nearly slid from his horse.

"I cannot marry you, Your Grace," she said, voice trembling now. "And I beg your forgiveness for not saying so sooner. But I love someone else. With such profound depth, I know I could never be faithful to our vows. While riding back to you, I searched myself and wondered if I was the kind of woman who would break her marriage vows. And the truth is—no. I would not. It is dishonorable and wicked and immoral to shatter vows made before God."

"But for Alexander... for the way I love him," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I could give up everything. Even my honor . I could never stay away from him. I would never know happiness without loving him. If he so much as looked at me, I would falter—I would break every vow, betray my honesty and my fidelity, because the truth is, he is the man I was meant to give them to. I already have."

A murmur rippled through the gathering. Alexander sat frozen, struck breathless by her honesty.

"But I will not be selfish," Penny went on. "I will not bring shame on my family, not if I can help it. So, I will leave now with the man I love and bear the burden of that scandal of breaking an engagement. Your Grace...you do not look at me with love, affection, or admiration...please find another duchess who would love you and one you love."

Then she turned to Alexander. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her hand lifted steady and sure as she reached for him. Alexander was off his horse before he realized he'd moved. In four long strides, he closed the distance, swept her into his arms, and crushed her against his chest.

"I love you," he said hoarsely. "So damn much."

"I love you too," she sobbed, burying her face in the folds of his coat. "The scandal will be awful."

"I'll shelter us from it," he vowed, his voice fierce as he pressed kisses to her brow, temple, and cheeks. "You. Your family. I swear it."

A trembling smile broke across her lips. "What now?"

"I'm whisking you to Gretna Green."

She let out a broken sound, half-sob, half-laugh, that cracked his heart wide open. "Truly?"

"Your father won't allow our match unless I scandalously compromise you with a marriage over the anvil."

Penny choked on a chortle, laughter and tears mingling.

Alexander smiled, cupping her face between his hands. "That laugh. That smile. I'll spend the rest of my life protecting them."

She nodded, more tears slipping free as he lifted her onto the horse. Mounting behind her, he wrapped his arms securely around her waist and turned away from the duke's grand estate.

They left behind titles, expectations, and duties. And rode toward love.