Chapter Text
“Miss Sharma, may I have this dance?” It was a moment Kate thought would never come to pass – Anthony Bridgerton holding out his hand to her.
Kate felt her chest rise and fall. She had not realized it, but she had been holding her breath.
“You may, my lord,” she responded, slipping her hand into his. She was surprised to feel the heat of his hand even through her glove.
With this the Viscount led her to the floor. She was not quite sure how she managed to find her place with his gaze locked upon hers. She could not tell if his eyes held a challenge or something else entirely, but she held his stare nonetheless. After all, Kate had never been one to back down from a challenge.
They bowed to one another, and so their dance began.
In all truth, Kate had never danced at a ball before. Yes, she had spent many hours practicing with Edwina, but Kate had always offered to lead so that Edwina could better prepare for what it would be like to dance with a gentleman at one of these very occasions.
She found this did not seem to signify. Nothing, she decided, could have prepared her for what it would be like to dance with Lord Bridgerton.
Kate knew she had never been the most graceful young lady, and even still she could not make sense of why a few quick turns with Lord Bridgerton had left her positively dizzy. She swallowed deeply. For a moment she felt as if her dance partner had somehow gained access to her most private inner musings. He was looking at her with an intensity so steadfast and sure that she was certain he could.
She hoped he could not tell how badly she ached to lace her fingers through his.
He twirled her then, and Kate felt her pulse quicken with each twist. Their bodies circled one another with each step, always circling, circling…
He slid his hand along her back and grasped her hand, pulling her taught against him. Kate stumbled, and she felt a flush go through her where her form met his. They were so close, a hair closer than propriety would usually allow, their noses nearly brushing against each other. She could feel the soft puff of his breath on her cheek. And still the Viscount held her gaze, never breaking, never faltering. She was incapable of looking away, and it hit her with a startling certainty that she wanted to kiss him.
She spun herself out of his grasp and turned to face him, setting her hands on his shoulders. Her body leaned into his, unable to escape the gravity of his orbit, and she broke their gaze, overcome with the desire to look at his lips, to etch them into her memory so that she could imagine what they would feel like imprinted on hers.
She realized belatedly that if his stare had been a challenge, she had lost.
She slid her hands along his, delighting in the friction as he twirled her around and molded her back against his chest once more. She was keenly aware of where his body met hers, each place he touched her burning white hot. Kate was certain that if he touched her again she would melt.
Kate took a deep breath. None of this was to signify, she needed to remember that. She was doing this for her sister. Her sister!
“Do you have something you wish to ask me, my lord, regarding my sister?” she asked. He paused, and in the brief silence she found herself leaning into him once more.
“If I were to ask for her hand, would you give me your permission?” he responded. They turned, and Kate was met with Edwina’s hopeful stare from across the ballroom. She stiffened, reminding herself again of her duties.
“I want my sister to be happy,” she said truthfully.
“And do you think I can make her happy?” he retorted.
“That is a better question for you. Can you make her happy?” She swallowed, realizing a moment too late that no matter what he said, she would be bitterly disappointed.
He said nothing, and Kate turned to face him once more, setting her jaw in determination. “If your silence is any indication you are reconsidering your declaration – ”
“Is that what you want? For me to reconsider?” His eyes widened, and Kate startled at his earnest expression.
“It does not matter what I want,” she murmured. After holding his gaze for so long she found she could no longer look at him.
“I do not think that is true,” he stated, and Kate felt a sickening taste rise to the back of her throat. They were supposed to be discussing Edwina, not her, not…
“I am to return to India the moment my sister marries,” she announced.
“You will abandon her?” His tone was harsh and accusatory. Kate felt a twist of anger wring through her at his slight towards her devotion to her family.
“Far from it, my lord. She will be married. She will not need me. There will be no more reason for me to stay.” Kate let out a shaky breath. “It was the plan all along.”
***
Anthony knew Kate did not intend to find a suitor of her own, but he had assumed (or rather he had hoped, if he were honest with himself) that her intense devotion to her sister would inspire her to remain in London. As a governess to his and Edwina’s children, perhaps? A strange sensation snaked its way through his core as he pictured Kate surrounded by a small gaggle of children, regarding them with patient and loving eyes. This image, coupled with a generous view of Kate’s bosom as she curtsied before him, made it such that Anthony suddenly felt as if he could not breathe.
He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and the room began to spin around him. He was unsure as to the precise reason for this reaction, but he was sure of one thing – he needed a respite from this. From this dance, from this ballroom, from this madness that was Kate Sharma.
He intended to excuse himself, but instead he took off without so much as a word, seemingly incapable of speaking at the moment.
His study – yes, his study would suffice quite nicely. A place of solitude, away from all this.
***
Kate could feel herself shaking, her heart beating wildly against her ribcage. Her breathing became labored as she cursed Anthony Bridgerton for his gall – for calling into question her loyalty to her sister, for disregarding Edwina’s happiness, for the maddening sensation of his hands on her back, on her shoulders, the heat of his gaze…
“Where is the viscount going?” Edwina ran over to Kate’s side, worry etched on her delicate features.
“I – I do not know,” Kate responded.
“Well, what did you say?” Edwina implored.
Kate felt the return of that sickly taste in her throat. She let out a deep breath. “I shall find him. Give me a moment.”
She would make this right for Edwina. If this was the man Edwina desired, if he was the one who would make her happy, well, Kate would damn well make sure that Edwina was damn well happy. Kate stiffened her back, resolved.
***
Anthony came back to his senses as he collided with a rather solid figure in his path. Of course – his meddlesome sister.
“Anthony?” Daphne called, regarding him with tender eyes. “Brother, are you quite alright?”
“Not now, Daphne,” he ground out, determined to continue his escape. She opened her mouth in protest. “Not. Now.”
“Where are you even going?” she inquired, trailing steadfastly behind him out of the ballroom. “What are you running from?”
Anthony spun on his heel. “I am going to my study,” he uttered in a low voice. “An urgent business matter has come to my attention.”
“A business matter? We both know that that is hardly – ”
“Yes, a business matter. My apologies to our guests, but I must take my leave,” he asserted. “Good evening, sister.”
“Anthony!”
Anthony ignored her, making a beeline for his study. Once inside he slammed the door soundly behind him, eager to create any kind of barrier between himself and Miss Sharma.
***
Kate huffed, hurrying out of the ballroom and into the corridors of Aubrey Hall. Blast it, the Bridgerton’s ancestral home was enormous. She hadn’t a clue where to start in her search for the Viscount.
“Miss Sharma!” a voice called out. Kate turned to find the Duchess of Hastings coming towards her, looking positively bewildered. “Do you happen to know what has come over my brother? Did he seem himself when you two took the floor earlier?”
Despite herself, Kate blushed. She knew it was foolish, but she had somehow forgotten that her and Anthony had had an audience.
“Your Grace.” Kate gave a quick curtsy. “In all truth, I must confess that I find your brother’s temperament so volatile that I could never claim to understand his true nature.” The words came forth with a venom she had not intended, but Kate found herself settling into the anger simmering in her chest. It was a sensation she was all too familiar with, quite unlike that odd, pulsating at her core she had felt as Lord Bridgerton had pressed her into his form.
Daphne raised her brows. “I must admit that Anthony can be rather… stormy at times,” she said wistfully. “I, too, cannot pretend to understand him in his entirety, though he did appear decidedly agitated last I saw him. Did you two discuss anything that might have spurred such a reaction?”
Kate regarded Daphne cautiously. She could not be sure, but there seemed to be something almost conspiratorial to Daphne’s air. “Where has your brother gone?”
Daphne gestured to a door far down the corridor and to the left. “He has retired to his study. He’s claiming that there is some sort of business he must attend to, but both you and I know that he cannot possibly… Miss Sharma, I would caution you not to disturb him! He – ”
But Kate had already taken off, pacing down the corridor with determination. The small seedling of anger in her chest had blossomed into something much bigger and all-consuming. She shook with the force of it. Who was this man who could bark orders with one breath, and with the next regard her with such tenderness and understanding that she could feel it piercing through to her very soul?
Another spike of white hot anger. He could not do this to her. He could not make her question her plans, her life, her duty to her family. He must stop, she seethed as she closed her hand around the handle of his study door.
***
Anthony sunk into his desk chair and screwed his eyes shut. Miss Sharma. Kate. He supposed he should be happy that she was set to return to India. This way he could marry Edwina without her interference and, better yet, never have to set his eyes upon her again. This is what he wanted. He wanted…
He groaned. If the tightening in his crotch was any indication, he wanted Kate. Bloody woman. He attempted to conjure up all the reasons he disliked her. She was rude. She was impertinent. She was spiteful.
And yet, even as he enumerated her flaws, his mind could not help but wander. He pictured them as they had been in the forest, his nose brushing against her cheek, the soft touch of her hands against his. He gulped as he recalled the long, lean line of her leg. He remembered the gardens, his heart pounding wildly, everything around him spinning until he felt his hand on her chest, her heart beating in tandem with his. And now their dance from just moments ago - the delicate flutter of her lashes, the softness of her curves as they molded to him. He could almost smell her. Lilies, lilies, lilies.
This is madness, he chastised himself as he reached down to his trousers, making quick work of the buttons there and moving to the laces of his breeches. Utter madness. One dance with the insufferable woman, and she had left him hard and wanting. He freed his member and palmed at himself in an attempt to relieve the mounting pressure. Lilies.
“Lord Bridgerton! I demand an explanation for your – ” Kate’s voice rang out through his study.
And for the first time in their acquaintance, Anthony could not help but note, Kate Sharma had no words.
***
At the age of six and twenty, Kate was not quite as green as the rest of the young ladies of the ton. She knew what happened between a husband and his wife, and she had seen plenty of animals at her childhood farm back home that had illustrated what the marital act looked like. But she had never… that is to say, she had never seen –
“Miss Sharma,” Anthony hissed, his voice low and dark. “Miss Sharma, close the door.” He bit out each word from behind clenched teeth.
Kate did not know if he intended for her to turn around or to enter. Her eyes darted around, ensuring they had no spectators. Deciding they were quite alone, she took in a shallow, panicked breath and stepped forward, shutting the door behind her.
The soft click of the door closing sounded much louder than Kate had thought it would.
“What in the devil are you doing?” Kate whispered sharply. “What – I mean – what I mean to say – ”
Anthony felt a sly smile creep onto his face. Kate might have control over his thoughts, might have weaseled her way into his every dream, but in matters of the flesh, he held the upper hand.
“What exactly do you know of men?” Anthony intoned. Kate did not answer, but her eyes flickered downward, and he saw something dark bloom over her expression. His cock twitched at her attention.
She gasped softly and drew her eyes upward. “My lord, this is – ”
“Madness, is it not?” Anthony drawled.
“Madness,” Kate breathed out. “Have you gone mad – truly, have you? You cannot be – touching…”
Anthony laughed darkly. “I cannot help myself, and even now, I…” He grasped at the arm of his chair and shook his head softly, attempting to remind himself of his circumstance. “We should not be here. My father raised me to be a gentleman, to act with honor, but I… do you even understand? Do you even understand what you are doing to me?”
“What I am doing to you?” Kate hissed, her gaze turning cold. “It is rich to speak of gentlemen right now, of which you are decidedly not. You are insufferable, my lord. Your heart is with my sister.”
“Touch me.”
“I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed.
“If you are to leave, to return to India as you claim, to live out the rest of your days alone, are you truly to deny yourself this chance to… to… Tell me you do not care for me, Kate. Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.” The words tumbled out of him quickly, unbidden, before he could consider the gravity of his proposition. But by God, how he wanted her. He would have to be mad to let, perhaps, his only chance to touch Kate Sharma pass him by.
Anthony met her gaze. His eyes, Kate decided, were embers, and she could feel their heat branding her from across the room.
He was pleading for her. Practically begging. Kate swallowed deeply. She could feel her heart beating in the back of her throat, and her tongue suddenly felt too thick, her mouth dry. She hated this man, she was sure of it, but she found that when she reached down inside herself, she could no longer feel the flames of anger that had spurred her abrupt entrance into his study. That fire was gone now, replaced by a dull hum that vibrated throughout her entire being.
Kate felt her feet begin to move from underneath her. In spite of the caution her mind desperately urged, it seemed her body had already decided what it wanted to do.
She rounded the desk, eyes still glued to Anthony’s. Kate looked gorgeous, he mused. So elegant, almost as if she were dancing as she glided towards him. He was reminded of their dance not moments ago, the delicious push and pull of their bodies against each other. He wondered vaguely if perhaps their dance had never quite ended.
And then she was before him. She was a vision, standing with her back tall and proud. “You vex me,” she seethed. “I do not claim to understand what I do to you, but that is what you do to me. You vex me.”
“This is what you do to me,” Anthony wrapped a hand around his member, stroking himself. Kate stared – propriety be damned – transfixed by his movements. “I burn for you, Kate. Night and day, I dream of you.”
Kate reached out gingerly, grazing the tip of him. He groaned, her touch soft and perfect. “I am leaving for India, my lord,” she murmured. “And you are courting my sister.”
“Anthony, please call me Anthony,” he panted.
She stroked the length of him, emboldened by his reaction to her touch. “I did not ask for this. I feel… I feel – ”
“Tell me,” he implored her, throwing his head back as she swirled her thumb over the tip of him. “Tell me how you feel.”
Kate suddenly felt exposed, even though he was the one displaying his most intimate parts. “What does it matter how I feel? You are the one who cannot decide how you feel, Anthony.” He hissed at the sound of his given name, and Kate felt a surge of pleasure in her core, delighting in his breathless response. For once, she felt in control in front of Anthony Bridgerton. “Do you hate me? Because it does not seem as though you hate me.”
“Hate you?” Anthony groaned. He was sure this was the first time Kate had touched a man, but there was something about her touch, about her very essence, that made him positive that no woman would ever manage to measure up to her. “I – I cannot hate you. I want to. I – ”
“I will never understand you.” Her touch and voice became frantic. “You do not desire to love, but you desire a wife. You desire my sister. You – ”
“Never your sister,” he ground out. “Only you. Only you.” He creased his brow. “My handkerchief, Kate – ”
“No,” Kate declared, withdrawing her touch. Anthony looked up at her with bewildered eyes. “Do you think you can use me to seek out your satisfaction, my lord? Whatever makes you think I will approve of your marriage to my sister now?”
“Whatever makes you think I care about marrying your sister any longer?” he seethed, standing up with such vigor that Kate took a step back, feeling the edge of the desk press against her back.
He held her eyes for a moment, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Kate wondered how his gaze had turned from smoldering and hot to hard and icy in a matter of seconds, but she did not have long to ponder before his lips descended onto hers.
Kate had never been kissed, and so she did not have much to compare Anthony’s kiss to, but she was absolutely sure that nobody else kissed like this. This fury, this flame – it was for them and them alone. Anthony’s mouth was hot and insistent against hers, sending her spinning, spinning, spinning, with only him to hold on to for balance. She felt his lips everywhere, through every fiber of her being, and she was half-convinced that nothing else existed outside of him – the feeling of his hands sliding across her ribcage, the warmth of his touch. She wasn’t quite sure anything existed anymore.
She braced her hands against his chest, fisting at the fabric of his shirt as she frantically searched for the rhythm of his heart. Kate needed to know – did he feel the same as her, as if his heart were about to pound out of his chest, as if he couldn’t breathe, as if – ?
“Dear God, Kate,” Anthony groaned, pressing wet kisses along her jaw, her neck. “I cannot believe – so good – ”
She whined, and it spoke to her complete surrender to her desire that she could not find it in herself to feel embarrassed. “I need – ”
“I will give you what you need,” Anthony uttered, and Kate understood instantly that this was a promise. She felt his hands move along the length of her, igniting small fires in his path, until he settled at the back of her thighs.
Kate choked out a confused moan. “What are – ”
He lifted her then, setting her down on to his desk and settling in between her thighs. Instinctually her hips sought out his. “Patience, patience,” Anthony chuckled to himself, continuing his ministrations on her neck and traveling down, down…
Anthony tugged at the neckline of her dress, revealing her breasts to his gaze. He felt nearly dizzy. He could not believe that after so many nights, unable to sleep from wondering what lay beneath her gowns, plagued by the torturous rise and fall of her chest, she was bare to him, here, on his desk. He took one taut nipple into his mouth.
“My lord!” Kate yelped.
“I thought I told you – ”
“Anthony,” she breathed. “Please, I need – ”
Anthony paused to look her in the eye. “Did I not tell you that I would give you everything you need? Must you always argue with me?” He moved his hand to where his mouth had teased at her nipple, drawing small circles, circling, circling…
“I cannot – ”
“You cannot what?” he seethed, moving his other hand along the expanse of her thigh, pulling a moan from deep in her throat. “You know what I think? I think you do not hate me nearly as much as you claim. I think…” He brought his hand next to her sex. He could feel the heat radiating off of her. “… that you do not hate me at all.”
Anthony pushed at her undergarments. “What do you think of that?” he whispered, leaning in close to her ear. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his fingers just a centimeter from where she wanted them most. “Do you truly have nothing to say?”
“I hate you,” she murmured, tilting her face upward to avoid his gaze. Her insistence sounded feeble even to her own hers.
He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on her cheek and turned her head toward him, locking her into that gaze she so desperately wished to avoid. “You hate me?” he repeated darkly. “Why is it – ” Anthony moved his nimble fingers to her sex, finding her warm and absolutely dripping. “– that you dislike me so?”
Kate moaned. He was right, what he had said earlier. This was madness. Her whole body felt tense, on edge, like a coil being wound tighter and tighter.
“If you can tell me why you hate me, I will stop. Do you want me to stop?” Anthony drawled.
Kate gasped as Anthony pressed his finger inside of her. “Do not stop, oh, please do not stop.”
Anthony grunted in satisfaction. He plunged another finger into her heat, moving in and out of her leisurely. Kate’s hips stuttered - he could tell she was searching for more. Anthony was helpless to comply, working up to a frantic pace and angling his thumb so that it hovered over the bundle of nerves he knew would please her the most.
A litany of unladylike words tumbled out of Kate’s mouth. “Do you still hate me, Kate?” he asked. She moaned incomprehensibly. “Tell me.”
“No, no, I do not hate you, I do not, I cannot, I – oh!”
Anthony had pressed his thumb against her now, and Kate was lost. She could not focus, could not breathe, could not think of anything else beside Anthony’s fingers, his lips, his face… Anthony, Anthony, Anthony.
“Let go,” he murmured, nuzzling into Kate’s shoulder and dropping hungry kisses along her collarbone. He could smell her so clearly here, in the crevice of her neck. “Let go.”
Kate felt her entire body tense, and then she fell, careening over the edge. She tilted her head back and let out a high-pitched gasp as she felt her release ring throughout her body. She shook in Anthony’s arms, grasping tightly onto him as she searched for some way to ground herself. Miraculous, Anthony thought as he watched her. Absolutely miraculous. To see Kate so lost in pleasure was nothing short of a holy sight indeed.
They remained there as if frozen in time, their foreheads pressed together as they sought to catch their breath. Slowly, Kate’s eyes fluttered open, latching onto Anthony’s gaze. His stare no longer burned her, nor did it send a cold chill down her spine. It was golden now, like sunlight. A pool of dread settled in her stomach.
Kate jumped off the desk and tugged at the bodice of her dress in an attempt to cover herself. “What have we done?” she whispered incredulously. Anthony stepped back, startled at the sudden change in Kate’s demeanor. He moved to cover himself as well, now aware of his nakedness and not wanting to frighten her further.
“Kate, it is alright. I have… I have taken liberties. I must apologize. The fault is entirely mine,” he hastened to reassure her.
Kate turned away, positioning herself on the opposite side of the desk in an attempt to put as much space between them as possible. Surely having a solid object blocking her path to him would help.
“I do not need your apologies. Do you think anybody has heard us?” Kate looked around with wide and frightened eyes.
“No, I must apologize. You are a lady, and I am a gentleman, and I have acted without honor.”
“Do you really think now is the time to speak of honor?” Kate hissed. “I must go. I must go and pray that nobody has noted our absence.” She hastened to right her appearance, tucking her tousled hair behind her ear and smoothing out her dress. Kate refused to meet his eyes again. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest, as if to hurry her along.
“Kate – ”
“Miss Sharma,” she corrected him. The words punctured Anthony’s chest. “I trust I can count on your discretion.” She let out a deep breath and turned on her heel.
“You must wait, I – ”
But Kate had already shut the door behind her. Anthony staggered backward, slumping into his desk chair and resting his head in his hands.
His study smelled like lilies.