Chapter Text
The maid who had entered the room and left the breakfast on the table was utterly terrified by her scowling glare.
"Tell him I am not hungry!" she shrieked furiously, as the innocent woman headed toward the exit, holding the key to the room in her hand.
Penelope had hoped until the very last moment that the maid would hesitate to lock her in, and that she might be able to slip outside to look for him. In truth, she was somewhat frightened by the thought that he might have returned home and resumed his engagement to Marina. She had been locked up for a month in the room where he had kidnapped her, and since then, she had seen him all too rarely. She was confused, scared, and, above all, furious. If she ever got her hands on him...She flinched when the woman finally locked the door behind her. Her stomach rumbled angrily, and she knew that, sooner or later, she would have to eat. She looked out the window, searching for the slightest sign that he might still be out there, somewhere lost in the garden, but she saw nothing except the trees whose leaves had already begun to turn yellow.
*
Colin questioned his every thought and every deed. He sat in his own study, set up in the new residence, thinking incessantly of Penelope. He had no doubts about her kidnapping from London, of course he didn't; it was the best thing he had done since he had known her. And yet... her kiss had been as if someone had set fire, quite literally, to his entire world. He burned at the mere thought of visiting her again.
Damn it! He could not do that. He would kiss her without being able to help himself, and then... He repressed the thoughts that flooded his mind whenever he let himself get carried away thinking about her. He had never desired anyone, he had never longed for anyone, but the thought that they shared the same house—as husband and wife in the eyes of the servants, at least—made him want to break down her bedroom door. He could not do that, he had to wait. How long? He had no earthly idea, but he did not want to take advantage of her or, even worse, touch her without her consent.
*
The gowns that accumulated more and more frequently in her wardrobe were tailored strictly in delightful, pastel colors. The young maid had been forced to endure her every whim while sewing them by hand, making them fit Penelope's body like a glove.She had received nightgowns too, of course, to sleep comfortably in clean, new garments, but Penelope had not expected the piece of clothing before her for a single second. She had never worn anything like it. It was too short, far too transparent, in a pale pink that left absolutely everything on display.
She groaned when the young woman laid the material on the bed and looked at her with a wide smile.
"Mr. Ledger wishes for you to wear this nightgown tonight!" the maid said, leaving Penelope stunned. Then, without saying much else, the servant left the room, locking the door behind her.
Penelope grabbed the silky fabric in her hand, rubbing it gently between her fingers. It was soft and fine, and her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought that Colin wanted to see her dressed in such a thing. It meant he was still home with her, he hadn't left for a single second—or, at least, she hoped he hadn't.
The thought of him seeing her tonight set her entire body ablaze. She shook her head, trying not to think too much about it. Yet, the image of him admiring her dressed in something he had bought for her brought a radiant smile that spread wide across her face.
"We shall see who keeps whom forgotten in their room," she told herself, beginning to count the minutes impatiently until she would see him again.
The nightgown on her was, indeed, the shortest thing she had ever worn, barely brushing the tops of her thighs. She felt so naked that she felt the need to throw a robe over it to appear more decent in front of her maid, who was now brushing her hair.
"Would you like me to braid it?" the woman asked her timidly, almost with fear, having long since learned her mistress's impulsive moods.
Penelope looked at her own reflection in the mirror, and a smile budded on her lips, deeply satisfied with the way her copper curls fell loosely, in waves, around her face, giving her a more mature, even enchanting appearance.
"There is no need!" Penelope answered, inspecting every smooth surface of the skin on her face. The hot bath she had taken earlier had left her cheeks flushed. Her lips were pink from the beeswax and carmine pomade, carefully applied by the maid, accentuating the sensual fullness of her lower lip and the perfect Cupid's bow. The way she looked now—like a real woman and not like a small, helpless little girl—made her cheeks turn even redder than they already were, and all of this was because of him...
"Do you require anything else, ma'am?" the young, visibly tired woman looked her in the eyes through the reflection of the mirror, and Penelope merely shook her head, continuing to admire the delicate features of her face.
When the woman stepped out the door, this time she did not lock it, and Penelope could not suppress the wicked smirk that broke across her lips.
"Simply perfect," Penelope said, discreetly dabbing her wrists with two drops of the floral perfume that had come paired with a romance novel and a box of fine chocolates.
She knew they were gifts from Colin, so on the few occasions he visited to leave them for her, she would pretend to be indignant and furious, even though in the depths of her heart she was radiating with happiness. His attention was all she had ever wanted, and now her dreams had, by some miracle, turned into reality.
Penelope finally took off her robe, leaving it over the back of the chair at the vanity table. Her skin shivered from the lack of it, even though the fireplace was still crackling, full of logs, filling the room with warmth.
She nearly dropped the book she had just picked up when she heard the door opening. Penelope turned her face toward the entrance, looking at the shadow that had stopped for a moment on the threshold. Then, the imposing shadow vanished, replaced by Colin’s tall silhouette walking straight toward her.
Penelope suddenly felt small, far too exposed under his intense gaze, which was mapping every single inch of skin left on display by the pink nightgown. She saw him swallow hard, while his eyes, darkened with desire, descended hypnotized toward the fullness of her lips.
"Penelope..." he murmured hoarsely, and the deep sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, quite literally raising the hairs on her arms.
To say she hadn't been affected by his presence would have been a flat-out lie. In reality, she was simply ruined, melting at the mere sight of the way his strong arms flexed through the thin material of his linen shirt... but he must not know that. Not yet. Her mother used to tell her often that the puppeteer never shows their weaknesses to the marionette, and Penelope believed that nothing could be truer at this moment.
"What do you want?" she asked with perfectly simulated irritation, pretending to open the book and starting to flip through its pages with slightly trembling fingers.
"I only wanted to talk," he said, and a note of guilt crept into his voice. He fixed his gaze on the floor, a reaction that made Penelope yearn for his dark blue eyes. She wanted to force him to look at her again.
"Has something happened?" Penelope took two steps toward him, mimicking an obvious concern.The trap worked instantly. Colin bit the bait, immediately grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him with a force that stole her breath. The warmth of his body made her completely lightheaded.
"Nothing special, I wanted to see you."
She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he actually wanted when he had sent her that almost transparent nightgown.
"Only to see me?" The impertinent question slipped through her lips before she could stop it and inwardly she scolded herself harshly. He must not guess for a single second that she wanted to be there, locked inside that golden cage. He must not know how much she yearned to be near him, how she wanted him to admire and embrace every single curve of her voluptuous body.
Colin let go of her hand, slowly moving away from her, and Penelope absolutely hated it.
"I heard the servants gossiping," he broke the silence, starting to pace the room with large strides, inspecting the objects on the vanity table to mask his agitation.
"Gossiping?" Oh! Damn that, she was sick and tired of gossip. Had someone discovered their secret? God forbid! She hoped with all her soul that they hadn't.
Colin nodded in silence. He stopped in front of the nightstand, picked up the delicate crystal bottle, and brought it to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
"It smells exactly like you," he betrayed himself, letting the words escape his lips like a sigh. Penelope was left completely stunned. Now, as she brought her wrist to her nose and sniffed it discreetly, she noticed that the perfume did, indeed, carry a familiar and intoxicating aroma of blooming peonies and wild jasmine.
"I searched for these ingredients for days on end, throughout all the surrounding markets, solely to recreate the exact essence of your scent."
She gazed at him with her lips slightly parted, feeling a sudden, overwhelming warmth rise to her cheeks. So, he had finally left the house... She had sensed it, of course. Yet, he had not gone to visit his fiancée, as she had feared, but to spoil her with even more gifts, chosen exactly to her taste.
"But I never understood why I felt such a desperate need to do it..." Colin continued, his fingertips now lightly tracing over her filigree silver comb.
Every object in this room belonged to her, from the ethereal, pastel gowns to the pink blush and the lipstick that smelled of beeswax. And all of them were gifts from him, delivered daily by the young, frightened girl who helped her dress, and sometimes even by him himself.
Penelope let him touch and inspect them, fully convinced that more would follow. She did not need material gifts, not in the way those other drab London debutantes did, who allowed themselves to be bought with a simple bouquet of flowers. Yet any gift coming from him was far too precious to let go.
Her mind, already crowded with questions, scrambled to find the logic behind his words. Yes, perhaps he had desperately sought out her perfume, and yes, he was dressing her like a doll now—exactly like the ones Penelope used to dress when she was a little girl—but she still could not comprehend the true motive behind his actions. Because, in the end, it all came down to the fact that he could not bear to see her betrothed to an old gaffer and had felt the need to save her.
"So..." she said, colliding with his gaze which had now dropped to her breasts, devouring them with what Penelope knew all too well to be hunger. She knew him, of course. She had seen him so many times eating dinners and breakfasts, feasting on succulent meats and greedily licking his lips after every éclair he ate—exactly as he was doing now, merely by looking at her.
She felt her body betray her, revealing her entire hidden game the moment her nipples hardened, pressing against the soft silk of her nightgown.
"W-who is gossiping?" she asked, though she vaguely recalled him mentioning something about their servants.
Colin stepped toward her, took the book she was still holding—more as a anchor than a possible read—and placed it on the table.
"The servants, Penelope. Did you not hear what I said?"
She watched his tall body towering over her now, and a strange warmth flooded her belly, sliding lower, slipping between her thighs... Exactly in the spot where she liked to rub herself, late at night, against the plump, firm pillows of her bed whenever she thought of him.
"The news of your disappearance has reached all the way here, and the rumors that you are that missing girl are already circulating among the servants."
Penelope trembled with fear, thinking with horror that her own plan might unravel right then and there, turning against her. After all, she had been the one to orchestrate her own disappearance, in one way or another; she had manipulated Colin, writing that deceitful column just to force him to act, to save her. She had never imagined how far Colin could go, and yet she had hoped for it, because she knew him better than anyone. Perhaps she had allowed herself to fly too close to the sun, foolishly believing she would find freedom in her actions and deeds. Now she was going to crash just like Icarus, and she would end up utterly ruined if the truth ever came to light. And yet, she couldn't stay locked up here with him forever, could she? At some point, this had to end.
"They also say that I have not yet visited your room at night. They believe that I have stolen you away, Penelope," his long, slightly calloused fingers captured her rounded chin, lifting her face toward his. "They say that, in truth, you are not my wife."
Penelope swallowed hard, her tongue darting out for a mere fraction of a second to wet her lips, and the taste of wax and honey invaded her mouth.
"I am not..." she said, trying to sound convincing, even though her thin voice seemed to be an ally to her entire body, determined to foil any game he might have prepared for tonight.
Colin had caught her completely by surprise the moment he entered the room, his hair slightly disheveled and without the cravat that usually concealed his beautiful neck. Now that he stood so close, she could see a tiny bead of sweat rolling down his neck, sliding lower before disappearing beneath his shirt, and she wanted nothing more than to see more of him. She wished her fingers were the ones discovering the firm contours of his body, and her tongue the one tasting the salty bead trickling over his heated skin.
The worries she had felt just moments before dissolved completely. If she was to be labeled as ruined in the eyes of society, she might as well turn it into something real and true.
"Colin..." she said, gathering every single ounce of courage to utter the next words, for she had never imagined she could ever say such a thing. "W-would you... would you like to kiss me?"
The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile, while his thumb began to gently caress the fine skin of her cheek, continuing to hold her chin tilted up toward him with his index and middle fingers.
She felt the fabric of his shirt brushing against the thin silk of her nightgown, deliciously tickling her skin, while her nostrils were filled with his fresh scent of citrus.
Colin’s hand slid slowly off her cheek, leaving her for a fraction of a second with her face tilted up toward him, only to cup the nape of her neck with his large fingers and pull her into a desperate kiss. Their lips and teeth clashed painfully, both still beginners and unexperienced, but Penelope loved it; she loved everything he was doing to her so much. Her hands gripped the open collar of his linen shirt and pulled him toward her with force, while her tongue caressed his lips, asking for permission to enter his mouth and taste his entire essence.
Colin let out a guttural groan, deep in his chest, and that sound vibrated directly into her mouth.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting hers with a hungry fervor, teaching her instantly the rhythm of his lips and his tongue. His free arm descended like lightning toward her bottom, firmly gripping one of her cheeks in his palm through the thin material of her nightgown, and pinning her with a hungry force against the front of his trousers.
Penelope groaned loudly in the quiet of the room, feeling a delicious hardness that made her want to rub against him... exactly the way she used to rub against her pillows, late at night, in her solitary bed.
"Penelope..." he muttered directly against her lips, as his hips pressed into hers with a hungry pressure. Only then did she remember that, in truth, she was wearing nothing beneath her nightgown, which was now hitched up almost around her waist, leaving her thighs completely bare. The hand that had eagerly massaged her bottom now moved, along with the other, to her full thighs, burying his fingers into the softness of her warm skin. She nearly shrieked when he suddenly lifted her off the ground, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist to keep from falling.
"Colin!" she cried, and he tightened his hold on her, ensuring her that she was safe and he would not drop her. And she let herself be carried by him as if she weighed nothing at all, feeling more than safe in his large arms.
Instead of carrying her to the bed, he placed her directly onto the vanity table, right in front of the large, round mirror. Her bottom pressed against the slightly cool and smooth surface of the lacquered wood, and the contrast momentarily quieted the agonizing heat between her thighs.
One of the thin straps of her nightgown slid off her shoulder, and she found Colin kissing and hungrily sucking the soft, delicate skin there, like a man parched in the desert..
"You have no idea what you do to me..." he rasped directly against her skin, which had already flushed red under the onslaught of his kisses and hungry bites. "I have never wanted anyone this much, the way I want you... I never knew what desire was until I kissed you."
Colin snarled the words, his lips roaming freely over the skin of her neck, while his fingers coiled around her soft waist.
She groaned deeply, tugging at his shirt without knowing exactly what she wanted from him, until the hot skin of his back emerged from beneath the thin linen fabric. Penelope pressed her palms against his massive back, sliding her hands across the entire surface of his flexing muscles, savoring his every move.
"Not even Marina?" she asked, thereby interrupting his hungry kisses on her shoulder and neck.
He looked her straight in the eyes, and she saw how his stormy blue was completely swallowed by his dark pupils, which continued to dilate. She also caught something suspicious there, which resembled a shadow of sadness beyond all the desire he was now trying to repress, and for a moment Penelope felt sorry for having asked.
Yet, she could not have helped herself, especially when she remembered the way her cousin had planned to seduce him, trapping him like that. She remembered with vivid precision how the two of them had slipped out of the drawing room during his younger sister Daphne’s wedding breakfast, only to announce their engagement a few days later. Penelope had known then, with a painful clarity, that whatever Marina had set out to do, she had accomplished.
Now, as he held her so bare and close to his body, she could not help but wonder if he had touched her the same way, if he had kissed her and carried her in his arms with the same passion.
The dry and slightly ironic laugh that escaped Colin’s lips abruptly snapped Penelope out of her painful reveries.
"Marina?" he asked, then snorted into a laugh again, a sound that made him seem a bit mad—or perhaps completely driven mad, she wasn't entirely sure. "Pen, I didn't even kiss her," he said, the echo of that laugh still slipping between his words.
"She asked me to accompany her to her room and wanted me to kiss her, and I didn't."
Well, now he was no longer laughing, and Penelope’s stomach turned nervously under his piercing gaze.
"I didn't want to do it," he said now, much more possessively, tightening his fingers around her waist once more.
"N-no?" she asked in wonder, for she could hardly bring herself to believe it. Because... how could she believe it, right? Marina was the absolute ideal of beauty in London society.
Penelope was no fool, of course; she knew that, especially after the number of suitors that had paraded through the Featherington drawing room since the beginning of the season.
"No!" he said firmly, with a rough possessiveness that made her shiver under his gaze. "And only now do I know why..."
"Why?" she asked timidly, though in her depths she felt anything but timid. She merely wanted to grab the hem of his linen shirt, pull it over his head, and do the exact same thing to his trousers, desperately longing to see him completely naked.
"Because all that time, I thought of nothing but your sad eyes, which I had left behind in my family's drawing room."
Damn it! she thought, utterly blushing. He had noticed her then... Seriously? She wondered now in all seriousness, for she had been convinced he had eyes only for Marina.
"I-I do not know what to say..." She lowered her gaze, and he lifted her chin again, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
"But I think you do know, Penelope." He paused, tracing his fingertips over the soft skin of her arm.
"I read a very interesting piece of news in the morning paper. The ton's longest-standing bachelor has finally wed."
"How interesting," Penelope said, completely uninterested, biting her lower lip nervously, because she knew Colin never spoke nonsense.
"Lord Rutledge has married, after a two-month engagement, a wealthy widow..."
Penelope swallowed hard, disarmed by his dark eyes sweeping over her body.
"So am I free to return home?" she asked, her heart hammering beneath her ribs. In reality, she did not want to leave; she wanted to stay here with him for a lifetime, hidden in his large, strong arms.
Colin did not answer. Instead, he continued to run his fingers along her arm in a teasing caress, while his other hand did not let go of her waist for even a single second.
"I expected Whistledown would write about it, about your disappearance. I sent servants daily for the scandal sheet, and they told me that not a single issue has arrived from London... Not a single issue has been printed since."
"Perhaps she grew tired of writing lies," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks burn even hotter than they had at the beginning of the evening.
Colin hummed softly in approval, then surprised her completely when he suddenly pressed his lips to hers with the same hunger from before, leaving her frozen in his arms for a moment. She recovered quickly and took advantage of the kiss; she grabbed the hem of his linen shirt and pulled it over his head, finally leaving him bare from the waist up in front of her.
Her hands roamed over his firm chest, running her fingers through the hairs she found there. She had never seen a man so undressed before, and she remained hypnotized—he looked simply magnificent, making her want to see more and more.
One of his hands moved toward her chest, mirroring her action, tracing only the tip of his index finger over her painfully hardened nipple through the thin silk. His light touch tickled her entire body, making her gasp and, at the same time, arch further into his touch.
"Do you like it?" he asked, leaving behind the talk of Whistledown and Rutledge, to her immense relief.
She nodded rapidly, pushing her chest forward for more.
"Please..." she implored in a thin voice, barely above a whisper.
Then, he pressed his face against her chest, licking her nipple through the silky material, while his other hand cupped her neglected breast, starting to pinch its tip directly through the fine silk.
"Colin!" she cried out, throwing her head back and pushing her breasts even deeper into his mouth. Her hands gripped his chestnut curls firmly, pressing his lips there.
Soon, the pink silk was nothing more than a wet rag, destroyed almost completely by his hungry lips and teeth. She felt sorry, of course, because it was a gift from him and it was one of the most beautiful nightgowns she had ever worn.
"I will buy you others," he said with ragged breath, when he saw the shadow of sadness in her eyes.
She nodded delightfully at his words. Once again, she thought that it was not the gifts themselves that pleased her, but the fact that they were from him. She had always dreamed of being courted by him, of receiving flowers, chocolate, and hidden kisses in the quiet of empty rooms. Now, in a strange way, her dream had actually come true. Even if not quite how she would have hoped.
"Penelope!" he called out to her, and she was convinced he could see her thoughts drifting away, much like watching clouds moving across the sky, gathering for rain.
"What is it?"
"Do you still want to know why I never touched Marina?"
He resumed the conversation, making her head spin completely, for she was certain that the discussion about Whistledown and Rutledge was by no means over, merely postponed. Nevertheless, she nodded curiously, while her chest expanded as her breath came in faster and faster waves.
Colin wrapped his hands around her waist once more and lifted her off the table as if she weighed nothing at all, then set her down, her feet on the floor, turning her back to him, right in front of the mirror.
Penelope collided with her own reflection and gasped. The curls so beautifully arranged at the beginning of the evening were now tangled, looking almost wild. The pomade on her lips was rubbed off, subtly smudged past the contours, the sweet taste of honey long forgotten. Her cheeks were as red as her hair, a rather enchanting contrast with her eyes, which still held their intense shade of cerulean blue.
But her body... Penelope groaned loudly when she saw the marks of his teeth on her shoulders and neck, convinced that many of those possessive signs would persist for days on end. Her nightgown was indeed ruined around her breasts, wet and soaked in Colin’s saliva, and this thought made her groan again. Her nipples were still hardened, and she saw in the reflection how perfectly and enticingly they stood out beneath the material, which had become almost completely transparent.
Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, Penelope suddenly feeling very small next to him, exactly like the doll she used to love taking care of when she was little. Perhaps now she was his doll, his new toy... She hoped from the depths of her soul that he would never grow bored of her.
"May I?" he asked, his index finger already slipped beneath the thin strap of her nightgown.
Penelope merely nodded, and both straps slid off her shoulders, the gown pooling in a tight heap at her feet.
Now he was the one who groaned, deeply, from the very depths of his chest.
"I already knew you were perfect," he said, mapping her body in the mirror from top to bottom, making her wish to cover herself for the first time that evening.
"I did not touch her because it would have been too wrong... Because her breast would never have filled my hand exactly like yours!" he said, cupping her breasts from behind in his large hands, squeezing them gently and weighing each one in turn.
The sudden wetness that gathered between her legs, caused by his hot chest pressing against her back, made her squeeze her thighs, rubbing them gently together, wishing to ease the sweet ache building up there. The hardness she had felt a few minutes ago pressed again, powerful, against her bottom, and she wished for nothing more than to turn around, to see it, and to touch it.
"You are so beautiful... I was totally captivated by the way you look at me with those eyes like two blue pools."
He combed through her copper curls with his long fingers, and she threw her head back, completely caught up in his caress. "Nothing compares to the beauty of your curls, falling in waves like a waterfall of fire..."
He caught her chin between his fingers, running his thumb over the contour of her lips, making her part her mouth slightly, seeking the taste of his skin.
"I did not kiss her because her lips would never have had the same fullness as yours. They would not have tasted of honey, and they would not have trembled beneath mine the way yours do," he continued, bringing his hot breath down her neck. "I never touched her, and yet I would wager that her body is not nearly as soft and enchanting as yours. You make me feel alive, Penelope... You make my body burn, and no one has ever done that until now."
Well, now she was burning too—not that she hadn't been burning until now, but his words somehow gave her the courage to turn toward him, to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, abandoning herself completely to him.
His hot hands gripped her waist, then moved along her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake..
"Please, please, please..." she implored, though she wasn't entirely sure if she was begging for more words or for him to stop talking and lay her down on the bed.
He caught her copper curls in his fist and gently pulled her head back, forcing her to direct her eyes into his. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were simply black in the candlelight, the stormy blue long since forgotten.
"What do you want, Penelope? What do you need from me?"
She sighed, closing her eyes tight and letting herself be simply manipulated by him, exactly like the puppeteer she had imagined herself to be at the beginning of the evening. It was incredible how he had reversed the roles. It was incredible the way he made her want to be his doll, possessed completely by him, until her very last breath.
"Touch me between my legs!"
Colin smiled like a wolf, lifting her in his arms again, carrying her over to the bed, where he laid her down on top of the blankets with an infinite tenderness. He remained on his knees above her for a few moments, and she could not tear her eyes away from the huge bulge in the front of his trousers.
"I would like very much to touch you too..." she continued, fearing for a second that she might be asking for too much.
Yet, Colin did not feel offended at all; quite the contrary. His smile widened as he undid the buckle of his trousers with confident fingers, freeing his large, imposing member in front of her.
"Me first!" he said then, lowering himself over her and looking at her with adoration. Still, Penelope could not take her eyes off his massive member, instantly feeling her legs turn into slippery jelly.
His long, warm fingers slipped with a torturous slowness along her inner thigh, making her gasp. When his fingers passed gently through her juices soaked in wetness, Penelope let out a sharp groan, throwing her head back into the pillows.
"You are so wet for me, Pen..." he whispered, his eyes locking onto her face while his thumb began to rhythmically and firmly caress her sensitive core.
Every circular movement of his fingers sent waves of pure pleasure through her body. Penelope instinctively began to lift her hips, searching for more pressure, but Colin growled softly, holding her in place with his other hand, pressing gently but firmly on her abdomen.
"Stay right like that!" he told her firmly, holding her hips pinned with his hand against the soft mattress of the bed. "And keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. I want you to look at me when I make you come," he ordered, slowly inserting his first finger into her tight, hot depths.
Penelope opened her eyes, her breath hitching, looking at him through eyelashes wet with sweat or perhaps her tears, she wasn't sure. Colin added another finger, mimicking the back-and-forth motion that her body craved so desperately, leaving her completely defenseless, sighing and uttering his name like a prayer in the penumbra of the room.
She felt her entire body burning smolderingly, ready to burst into vivid, reddish flames, and that frightened her.
"Give me this, Penelope, I know how much you wanted it."
The pleasure that gathered inside her erupted like a volcano she had only read about in atlases. It was hot lava that seemed to erupt from every single pore of her pinkish skin. She groaned loudly when the sensation of his fingers did not stop, continuing to rub and penetrate her until she erupted completely, shouting his name in the quiet room like a prayer.
"Exactly like that!" he said, proud of his achievement, slowing his movements to her relief, then catching her lips in a kiss as a reward.
"I wondered..." he said, now pressing his red member with his palm, as if trying to calm it. "Why did Whistledown never write about your disappearance? Why didn't she write about Rutledge's wedding, and above all, why did she disappear for good, exactly when you disappeared too?
"He positioned his cock at her entrance, slowly pressing his head into her tight orifice.
A burning pain overwhelmed her, intertwined with a strange pleasure of knowing she was finally filled by him.
"Penelope!" he groaned her name into her neck. "Or perhaps I should call you Lady Whistledown?"
His cock penetrated her a little deeper, and her face contorted at the pain that seemed to intensify. He moved his thumb toward her little knot and began to massage it gently, making him easier to accept. When his hips pressed tight against hers, they both groaned in unison.
"C-Colin?!" she asked, panicked by the way he seemed to have split her in two.
"Shh! You'll be fine, don't worry, Lady Whistledown."
Had she heard right now? Had he just called her by the name of her alter-ego? And why did that make her scatter even more wetness around him?
"You like this!" he confirmed with a wicked smirk on his face, the exact same one she knew all too well from when he was a boy, whenever he got into trouble. Only now she was the one in trouble. One way or another, he had discovered her secret and he wasn't angry. What's more, judging by the way he rolled his hips between her thighs, he seemed ecstatic.
"Y-yes!" she managed to say, completely filled by the way he occupied all the places she had once felt so empty.
"Because of this," he rasped, his forehead pressed against hers. "Is this why you wrote lies about yourself? To have me?"
She felt ashamed for a moment, her cheeks flat-out burning at the exposure of her entire intrigue. How he had put everything together and unraveled her truth, she would probably never find out.
"Answer me, sweetheart!" he said, his fingers, the middle and index, touching her lips, inserting them into her half-parted mouth, panting with pleasure.
"Y-yes! I wanted you all to myself!" she panted, with his thick fingers in her small mouth, making her salivate.
"Perfect!" he murmured. "Take it then!" he said, pushing his hips with power, increasing the pleasure that accumulated between her legs. "Take it all, Penelope... My bad, deceitful girl."
Penelope had initially thought his kiss would ruin her, or perhaps just the fingers that touched the hidden skin of her body, where even her mother forbade her to lay a hand. She had never imagined what her ruin would actually look like. The taste of his fingers was somehow impregnated on her tongue as she sucked them with desperation now, wickedly imagining what it would be like if she could do that with his member.
"Ah!" she groaned when he began to rub her little knot again with his thumb, making her whimper and meow with pleasure. His member drove into her interior tirelessly, with even more energy, making her see stars behind her eyelids. She thought that would be enough to be ruined. Yet, the release that hit her in the end, intertwined with the way she felt him exploding inside her, filling her with something hot and sticky, told her that everything that once meant Penelope Featherington was gone. And this time, literally speaking. Still, the moment he pulled her into his arms and kissed the crown of her head, he showed her that she wasn't just ruined, but treasured... perhaps loved?
"You are not angry?" she asked after several long minutes during which their bodies had found peace, tangled against one another beneath the thick blankets.
"I could never be angry with you, sweetheart. If anything, it is quite the opposite."
"How so?" she asked, lifting her head from his chest and looking into his eyes.
"If you hadn't opened my eyes with that column..." He squeezed his eyelids shut and shook his head. "I do not even want to imagine how much the mistake I was about to make would have cost me."
She had to remind herself to breathe, because her world and her breath had just stopped completely at his confession.
"I do not understand..." she stammered nervously, because he couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he wanted to say.
"I love you, Penelope!" he said, firmly yet tenderly all at once. "I love you with everything I have, everything I am, and everything I will ever be."
His declaration tore a sharp gasp from her throat, and her eyes suddenly welled with tears.
"If I had married the wrong person, I would have lived my entire life with the regret of not having the one I truly loved—the one who belonged to me by right."
She caressed his cheek with her fingers, letting herself cry, for this had just been the most beautiful night of her entire life.
"I love you too, Colin Bridgerton! I have loved you for as long as I can remember, from the very moment my yellow bonnet knocked you off your horse."
He laughed, though his cheeks seemed stained with tears just like hers in the semi-darkened room."
That is why I wrote that lie. Not just because I desired you, but because I loved you and I did not want to lose you."
He pulled her over him and kissed her deeply, learning the shape of her lips and their every movement from that moment on.
"I will never part from you," he swore to her, placing her small palm over his chest, right where his heart was hammering with power.
"What shall we do now?" she asked. "What if one of the servants talks about us?"
Colin laughed, pulling her back down for a kiss."
No one suspects a thing, and no one is gossiping about anything, Penelope. I only said that to have an excuse to see you and, perhaps, steal a few kisses."
Her mouth fell open in astonishment, then she let out a soft laugh. "A few kisses?"
"It is not my fault that you are so tempting."
"Me?!" she asked in wonder. "What about you?"
Her hips straddled him, and she smirked wickedly as she felt his hardness pressing against her hot center once more.
"What shall we do now?" she asked again, this time much more seriously.
"Tomorrow morning, you will pack your bags," he ordered, lifting her hips to slide her back down directly onto his hardened length.
"And... what else?" she panted, gripping his broad shoulders with her fingers, leaning against him for support.
"Then, we are going to pay a visit to Scotland." His fingers dug into her soft, warm flesh. "Have you ever heard of Gretna Green?" he asked her, both of them learning the rhythm of their movements.
Penelope nodded, her breath ragged, rolling her hips over his, again and again.
"Perfect!" he smiled against her lips. "Because I intend to make you an official Mrs. Bridgerton