Although mid-July the wind whipped viciously outside. As I strode along the huge corridors towards his suite I could still see the trees swaying from the windows. The driveway torchilights were slowly flickering, by the time midnight approached only a few would be left to guide my way.I felt my heart seize as I approached Edmund’s doorway. So many times I had imagined this scenario. Sometimes Fitz was there holding my hand, promising to keep me safe. Other times I had imagined leaving without a single trace. After our honeymoon and realisation I was a prisoner within this grey stone tomb I had fantasised about fleeing in the night almost daily.Tonight it is finally time to discard my chrysalis. The gowns and fripperies that made me a Duchess are not my true colours. They are the trappings of a prisoner, albeit shinier and more ornate. The plain navy gown and cornflower blue day dress I wear are my true wings. These naturally fitting, comfortable garments will suit my life as I navig
*** FITZ POV***I allowed myself a minute to revel in her arrival before necessity made us flee..“You came,” I whispered again, nuzzling my lips against her bare neck. She let out a little moan of pleasure as I gently stroked her arms and waist. Little Eleanor was between us as I struggled to contain my utter joy. I wanted to press her to me and back in her.“We must go, I shall tell you everything on the way,” and just as I began to pull away, she grabbed me once more. “Fitz, I love you,” she murmured, “I should have done this the moment I realised I loved you.” Vanessa’s lips sought mine with a hunger I had sorely missed. My body surged with desire, there was nothing I wanted more than to show her my adoration had not ebbed in the slightest.Almost a year parted but my love had only expanded.Finally she released me, her hands gripping onto my black greatcoat, her face flushed with passion. Even in the near darkness her blue eyes sparkled and left me short of breath. “Come, we must
Fitz, my perfect, deviously charming, amazing Fitz was as good as his word. After the revelatory breakfast, supplied with fresh horses we managed to travel another forty miles before changing horses once again. On the Liverpool road we stopped at an inn. Anyone who might notice us and fancy making a penny on our names in the papers would surely report we were headed for the docks. Perhaps fleeing to the Americas for a new start. However our rumbling carriage eventually headed down south, towards the Welsh border. The further we travelled the more remote and beautiful the landscape became. Rolling green hills and pastures greeted us, plentiful villages with children running freely. Exhaustion was soon catching upon us. We took it in turns to sleep and hold Eleanor as the carriage rattled and bounced its way along the road. Despite the uncomfortable journey we teased and laughed with each other. Everything felt lighter, the further away from Tarrick Hall the greater my joy.It was so
I gasped and my head tilted upwards. He lavished kisses upon my bare skin, all whilst his single finger gently, sweetly probed me. As he released a torrent of wetness he let his own deep groan of desire. His finger circling my most sensitive little mound, sent urgent jolts of pleasure throughout my body.“Fitz, I have missed you, I have missed us,” I murmured, gripping his hair and breathing into his chest. “If this hurts you must say and I shall stop,” he rasped as his finger slid inside my most private place. It did not hurt much, only different. It still felt like the most natural, perfect sensation on earth. Shuddering in his grasp he gently caressed me into a quivering high. Drawing me out like teasing wool, his touch and swirling, circular motion had me whimpering into his body. My fingers clutched at his buttons, trying to open his shirt so that I could kiss and adore his bare flesh. His constant touch and affection left me gasping for breath, relentless pleasure searching eve
The next month was utterly blissful. We soon fell into a happy routine. I shrieked with joy when Fitz showed me the manor had a stable attached. A young local lad named Jacob, only twelve, was in charge of looking after our horses. We had one each and a tiny fell pony for Eleanor when she grew older.My mare was similar to Amber and very sweet in temperament. I called her Felicity and soon adopted a habit of taking myself for long windswept rides. After feeding Eleanor in the morning the summer meadows beckoned me forth. I would leave father and daughter content in the gardens, and examining flowers. Fitz talked to her as if she was a small adult, explaining in great, exaggerated detail the differences between tulips and posies. She babbled back, as though fully understanding as I arrived back red-faced and delighted with the world.The riding and continued feeding somehow aided my recovery from childbirth. The strength required by my body to trot and gallop across the winding meadow
The honeymoon period only extended, month after month. Summer ebbed leading to autumnal nights. The darkness outside and roaring fire saw many a night spent on the large sofa close together. I would lay with my head on his lap reading as he did the same. Without judgement or expectations of others we were able to find our own ebb and flow. We did not live in constant contact. I adored my riding, Fitz loved to fix and engineer solutions to anything. He was quite the hero in the local town. He was seen as the local engineer rather than the landlord and out-of-towner. We purposely did not communicate with the outside world. I knew Marie would be anxious for a letter but it was too great a risk. Someone like Henley, still working for Edmund could chance to manipulate Marie into giving information. It was better to vanish entirely. Fitz had not heard from his brother since returning northwards to claim me, however they had agreed between them for him to visit at Christmas. They did not
On my wedding day I was a nervous, terrified virgin. Three years on I remain untouched, the nerves replaced with resentment. Seething anger that my husband, a man almost thirty years my senior, has thieved the youthful life I could have enjoyed. Quieter in nature he prefers to spend his months sequestered away in his study at Tarrick Hall. His months are my months. As the dutiful wife, Vanessa, Duchess of Tarrick, I go where he goes. Each autumn I beg for us to head down to London for the Season, to have a fleeting taste of life and excitement amongst my peers. The Season lasts from November to July. Last year I managed just a few balls in March. It was excruciating to conceal my desperation. To meet people from my generation other than my sister, hear laughter peal around a crowded room. Last season the gossip rags referred to me as the “missing Duchess,” a line that always made the Duke chuckle cruelly at our shared breakfast table. Today, like every other I am sitting in quiet c
I need air. Summoning Marie, my maid, I donned a burgundy riding habit, my brown hair tightly wrapped in a bun. Marie was a stout woman, ruddy faced and tolerated no nonsense. She saw no reason for me to ever complain as I was the lady and she the servant. No confidence was shared between us. She merely dressed me, emptied my chamber pots and moved to the next task.My riding coat was heavy and formed a wide skirt over my legs so I could ride properly. Even so it was a warm autumn day, knowing there were no visitors intended I undid the top two buttons, allowing the air to my chest.Side saddle when guests were here, keeping my legs demurely together. I ride like a man whenever I get the chance. Easier to take on the jumps over the streams and backs.I walk briskly, my boots crunching into the gravel drive. Heading into the stables, the warm scent of hay is comforting, a world away from the musty rooms of Tarrick Hall. Amber, my pretty honey-coloured mare whinnied merrily to see me. A