That Evening - Evelyn's Chambers
Cora was brushing her hair when Evelyn finally said, "Do you think people can change?"
Cora glanced at her mistress's reflection in the mirror. "People don't change. They reveal themselves... when they're ready."
Evelyn nodded slowly, heart fluttering with anticipation. The fire in her chest set alight by Nathaniel refused to dim.
Whatever was unfolding between them, it was no longer uncertain. It was building. Tension and trust. Passion and power. And now... something tender, too.
The Duke's Study - Late Evening
The clock chimed ten as Evelyn stood outside the Duke's study, her hand resting on the polished brass doorknob. She hesitated, not from fear but anticipation. Her heart fluttered, breath shallow, the memory of his last words echoing like a secret tucked into her skin.
With quiet resolve, she opened the door.
The door creaked softly as Evelyn stepped inside.
The study, cloaked in warm lamplight and shadows, still carried his scent; woodsmoke, ink, and something unmistakably male. Nathaniel stood by the decanter, pouring a glass of brandy. He didn't look up at first, but his awareness of her arrival was palpable.
"You came," he said simply, his voice low and even.
"You told me to."
He turned then, eyes roaming her slowly. She wore a pale silk robe over her nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders. No jewelry tonight, not even the emerald necklace. She looked bare stripped of pretense.
"Come here," he said, setting the glass aside.
Evelyn moved toward him, each step measured and slow.
He led her to the leather chair by the fireplace, the same place she'd sat once, days ago, before things between them shifted. This time, he didn't retreat behind a desk or sit across the room. He lowered himself first into the chair, then pulled her gently into his lap, his hands firm around her waist.
He opened the drawer and took out a small velvet box.
"What is it?" she asked, noting the quiet solemnity in his expression.
Nathaniel didn't answer at first. He opened the box without flourish.
Inside lay a jade ring.
The jade was deep green, like forest after rainfall smooth and lustrous, set in a delicate band of ancient gold, etched faintly with swirling patterns. It was beautiful, yes, but it also looked... old. Precious.
Evelyn blinked. "It's stunning."
"It was my mother's," he said softly.
Her eyes lifted to his. "My lord..."
"She wore it every day. My father had it carved for her when they were first married. It's one of the few things she treasured until her last breath." He paused, his voice lower. "I've never given it to anyone."
The weight of those words settled on Evelyn's chest.
"You..," she said again, this time quieter, more unsteady. "I...I can't accept this."
He pulled her closer. "You already have."
Gently, he took her left hand. Her fingers trembled in his grip, but she didn't pull away. With care, he slipped the jade ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
He took her hand, admiring the way the ring gleamed against her skin. "Do you like it?"
"Yes." Her voice came out breathy. "Very much."
His fingers traced her arm and brushed the hollow of her throat, trailing lightly over her collarbone. "Then you'll wear it. Always."
Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the edge of her jaw, a whisper more than a kiss.
Their mouths met fierce, searching. Not the wild urgency, but something slower, deeper. The kind that made her toes curl in her slippers. His hands found her hips, and hers tangled in his hair. Every inch of her body became aware of him: his warmth, his strength, his restraint, barely holding.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "Tell me to stop," he said, voice tight.
Evelyn reached up, cupped his cheek, and replied simply, "Don't."
He kissed her again harder this time, devouring her gasp. She felt herself being lifted, her back brushing the edge of his desk. Papers scattered. Books toppled. She didn't care. Neither did he.
Nathaniel broke the kiss only to rest his forehead to hers, breathing uneven. "You drive me mad."
His hands gripped the desk on either side of her hips. The tension between them crackled like a live wire.
"You said I still had chapters to finish," she murmured, her voice light but breathless.
Nathaniel nodded and with a sly smile, he reached for the drawer beside him and pulled out the book.
The cover was the same dark, worn leather with an unmarked spine but Evelyn's heart skipped as he opened to the page she had unknowingly stumbled across before. A familiar illustration met her gaze: two lovers tangled, their bodies aligned in a way that still made her thighs press together when she remembered it.
He felt her tense slightly against him.
"You remember this one," he said close to her ear, lips brushing her lobe.
Evelyn swallowed. "How could I forget?"
"Your face was red as fire that day."
She turned slightly to meet his gaze. "You left it there on purpose, didn't you?"
His mouth curved faintly. "Maybe."
She bit her lip.
Nathaniel turned another page. "This one," he said, voice husky. "I thought of you the first time I saw it."
Evelyn looked.
A woman straddled a man's lap, bodies pressed close, her head thrown back while his face was buried in the curve of her throat. It wasn't crude; it was raw, beautifully rendered, almost reverent.
He moved her slightly, guiding her legs to straddle him like the image.
Evelyn gasped softly, her nightgown hiking up around her thighs. She felt his heat through the fine fabric of his trousers, his hands warm on the bare skin of her legs. She instinctively tried to lower the hem of her robe, but he caught her wrists.
"No hiding," he whispered. "Not tonight."
She trembled but didn't resist.
Nathaniel leaned in, kissing the side of her neck, then lower, his mouth trailing over her collarbone. "You're beautiful like this. Perched on my lap, flushed, unsure if you want to be seen or devoured."
"Do you want to?" she asked, her voice fragile and bold all at once.
He looked up at her, eyes dark. "I've never wanted anything more."
He kissed her, slow and deep, his hand threading into her hair. Evelyn melted, moaning softly into his mouth as her hips shifted instinctively against him. The book slipped from his lap and fell to the floor with a thud, forgotten.
His hands moved to her waist, guiding her rhythm as he kissed her harder, deeper. When their mouths parted, Evelyn's breath was shallow, her lips swollen.
"I remembered that position," she whispered, still breathless. "From the book."
"So did I," he said.
Then he stood with her in his arms effortless and carried her to the nearby chaise.
Nathaniel climbs on top of her, and started kissing her passionately. Their hands exploring each other's bodies. His hands roam under her gown and finding the soft skin of her thigh. His fingers trace the lacy edge of her undies and then dip beneath the fabric.
Evelyn's breath caught as his fingers find the slick, warm flesh between her legs. He slides a finger inside of her, then another.
She moans as he works his fingers in and out of her. She felt the pleasure building, it was nothing she had felt before.
She bucks her hips, urging him to keep going. He keeps his pace, his thumb rubbing her cherry in circles. She cries out as she reaches her climax, her body shaking with pleasure.
Nathaniel moves her so that she is lying back on the chaise, her knees bent and her legs spread. He kneeled between her thighs and entered her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
He moved in and out of her, his thrusts getting faster and harder. Evelyn wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Their bodies joined together, moving as one.