Page 23 of Marrying Bluebeard

I pass a few servants who throw me questioning glances, and mumble something about needing air. When I get to the garden, I’m relieved to find it empty aside from a silvery pool of moonlight that guides me down the path to the gazebo.

“Adelaide.”

His voice is like a snake in the dark, striking me between my shoulder blades and freezing me in place. I squeeze my eyes closed as I hear his soft footfalls approach. I can’t do this, can’t look him in the face knowing he’ll never be mine.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, gently pulling me around. Still, I refuse to look at him, focusing instead on the top button of his vest. “I wish to be alone,” I murmur.

“And I wish I could leave you alone.” The husky edge of his voice sets a spree of fireworks off in my belly. “But it would seem I’m more selfish than I thought.” His fingers brush my chin, gently tilting my face up until I’m forced to meet his eyes.

The desire I see reflected there incinerates my thoughts, and I can barely recall what he said, much less understand what he means by it. “You…” I lick my lips, and he moves closer. His hand drifts upward, cupping my cheek.

“Run away with me, Adelaide,” he whispers. “Run away and marry me.”

My heart thunders in my chest, that same giddy feeling from before muddying my senses. It’s crazy what he’s proposing, scandalous, and yet I can think of nothing I’d rather do. Still, “What about Miss Dellum?”

“It would seem this is her lucky day,” he murmurs, hand sliding to the back of my neck, the other finding its way to my waist. His gaze is deadly serious. “I’m not a good man, Adelaide. The things I’ve done…” He shakes his head. "If I were stronger, I’d leave and let you marry Lord Harrison in peace.”

He means it, and I know I should listen. That I should return to the ballroom and the safety of my family. But a part of me thrills at his words, dark and foreboding. They awaken the desires I only dare to acknowledge when all others are long asleep and my fingers are free to explore. “I don’t want to marry him.” My hands press against his chest, and I slide them upward, over his shoulders and around his neck. “I want you.”

“Then we’re both fools.” His lips crash against mine, his tongue gliding over the seam. My mouth parts, allowing him inside as I tighten my hold.

“Is that a yes?” he gasps when at last we stop for air.

I pull him down for another kiss. “That’s a yes.”

“When can you be ready?”

I think of the few things I might bring, then toss them to the wind as I think of the time they’ll cost me, the people who might see. “I’m ready now.” The throbbing between my legs agrees, and it cries out with need as I tip my head back, allowing Bertrand to kiss his way down my neck. I gasp when his teeth nip the top of my breast.

“Not soon enough,” he groans, then pulls back with a growl. “Make your way down to the road. I’ll have my driver ready the carriage, and we’ll pick you up there.”

Emboldened by the moment, I reach out and press my gloved hand against his pants, feeling the hard length straining against my palm. “Don’t take too long.”

“Devil take me.” He steals another kiss before tearing himself away. “Go. I’ll be there in a thrice.”

And so I run, dipping below windows and casting numerous glances over my shoulder as I do. Excitement makes me move faster than ever before.

Tonight, I’m defying sense and marrying the man with the blue beard.

Crouched behind the rhododendron, it feels like forever before I hear the clack and clatter of an approaching carriage. It draws to a stop a few feet from where I’m hidden, but I wait until I see Bertrand step down before leaving my hiding place. He pulls me into his arms the moment I’m within reach, but there’s a note of uncertainty in his voice as he whispers, “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

I wrap my hand around his silk necktie and tug, drawing his face level with mine as I press a kiss against his lips. “Never.”

He groans, deepening the kiss as his hands seek my waist, drawing my body flush against his. “You’re far too tempting for your own good, Adelaide Brindamour,” he whispers when he finally relinquishes his hold. His eyes flash as he helps me into the carriage, and for the first time since saying yes, I feel the faintest trickle of unease.

I brush it away, smoothing my skirts as I settle onto the bench. I want this. Want him. Bertrand sits beside me, his thigh pressed against mine, and any doubts I have evaporate as our fingers interlace.

The carriage jerks into motion, and I watch through the window as Aunt Charlotte’s estate fades into the distance. “Where are we going, anyway?”

Bertrand lifts our joined hands, pressing the back of mine against his lips. “Not far. I know a vicar who won’t be opposed to us dropping in unannounced. He and his wife will oversee the marriage.”

“And afterward?” I lean into his side and tilt my head as I nip the soft flesh of his earlobe.

A growl rumbles through his chest. “There’s an inn”—he hisses with pleasure as my free hand glides beneath his shirt and over the hard plane of his stomach—“about an hour east where we can stay the night.”

My pinky slips beneath the waistband of his pants. “And if I don’t want to wait?”

His hand clamps onto my wrist, and before I can even blink, I find myself pressed back against the seat cushions, hands pinned above my head as he hovers above with a predatory smirk. “Then I suppose I’ll simply have to pleasure you here and now.”