Chapter Text
Jane looks across her wedding feast, willing her glass of wine to wash away the taste of crushed red beetles and her failed attempt to escape this night. There’s not enough wine in the kingdom to make her forget the loss of her freedom, however, or the beast she’s now chained to. He doesn’t look too thrilled to be here either, brooding silently in the seat beside her and pointedly not even eating anything on the plate in front of him. She tries to swallow a few bites down, just for something to do, and for any excuse not to speak to her new husband.
Jane tries to ignore the fact that just yesterday she had very much wanted to speak to this same man, before she had known who he was. When she had first spotted him in the tavern, reciting Latin and expertly tossing the other patrons’ knives, she had thought he might be…
Not that her ability to spot them was particularly well-honed. She certainly hadn’t realized her maid and friend Susannah had been one, even after their years together. But she hadn’t been anything like Jane had expected, while the man she found before her seemed, at the time, to fit every stereotype to a tee. Beautiful, of course, dark featured but pale, strong - or at least skilled - and probably much older with his knowledge of Latin and poetry. Not bloodthirsty or dangerous by any means, those were just rumors spread by those who feared anything different from themselves. Jane, in her less rational moments, had expected her first real encounter (not counting Susannah) to occur somewhere like an abandoned castle or a graveyard at midnight, though she supposes an ill-rumored tavern late at night fits was as likely a place as any. There were so many endless stories about them, and one always had to separate fact from fiction. But certain traits kept coming up again and again. The great age and intelligence were such traits that appealed to Jane’s highest sensibilities. Their beauty, strength, experience - and of course, their bite - have also had their own certain dark appeal to a very small part of Jane that grew larger as she started to come of age. Though it had never made her seek out one of their kind until this very moment.
But then, unfortunately, the dark stranger from the tavern turned out to be the rudest man she had ever met from the moment he set eyes on her (and he had the nerve to call her the insufferable one!). And in matter of fact, his Latin was barely even passable. She realized quickly exactly what he really was - just some pampered noble son with a half-hearted education and too much free time to spend in taverns perfecting his dagger throwing skills. It’s clear he’s nothing more than that, no matter how charming he seems to believe he is. And she was very much not charmed by his supposedly witty repartee, nor by the intensity of his dark eyes which seemed to glimmer in the candlelight the more she argued back.
It’s especially obvious he’s little more than a man used to getting his way when the two newcomers entered the bar who clearly were what he had only seemed to be. The barkeep’s scornful reaction to their presence had immediately proved that her powers of perception weren’t entirely off-base. The two men who had stood beside her practically exuded feral power. The darker man in particular, he certainly fit the bill for a beautiful and mysterious creature of the night. When he insisted he was just here for a drink, Jane’s heart had raced. Did he mean…?
To her knowledge, vampires - and many in her acquaintance refused to even say the name aloud for fear of conjuring them - truly did need blood to survive, though not in the catastrophic quantities the small-minded around her seem to insist on. Human food doesn’t do anything for them, and can make them sick if given enough of it. But they are known to drink wine and ale sometimes. It doesn’t have much of an impact on them, not the way that human blood laced with alcohol is said to, but they can drink it. She’s certain of that much - she had witnessed Susannah drinking both on multiple occasions to her memory (it suddenly occurs to her to wonder what she drank the rest of the time - certainly not human blood, or someone would have noticed her condition earlier). So when the man beside her had said he wished for a drink…
Jane unfortunately wouldn’t find her answer that night as the Kingsland guards had abruptly crashed the party, armed with their silvered weapons and ready to fulfill the King’s edict to kill any creature that passed into the kingdom on sight. Though even outnumbered, she would have placed her wager on the two men beside her coming out of this still standing. She remembers being torn between watching the ensuing fight unfold and making her own escape from any possible recognition. Her good sense won out in the end, however, just as the rude stranger had taken her by the wrist and demanded she come with him to safety - as if! She could get herself out, thank you very much.
Not that it had worked out too well for either of them, considering they now found themselves here and miserably bound together. She had never expected to see the man ever again, and she certainly hadn’t expected for him to be waiting for her at the end of the aisle the next evening.
Though with the shock of today’s events now passed, Jane attempts to take a more unbiased assessment of her situation. If marriage was unavoidable, and running away a nonviable option, then she should try and at least consider her husband dispassionately. For instance, she could be bound to his horrible, orphan-kicking brother - or worse, the aging, gout-stricken Duke of Leicaster. She shudders at the very thought of it. But these stark comparisons don’t really aid her here, so she focuses instead on solely inventorying the man at her side. She supposes he could be considered handsome, by some, in the way one might call a fine horse or dog handsome. And he’s not completely unintelligent, his mediocre Latin aside. His manners are certainly in need of improving, as her cousin Edward, the King of England, had suggested she might be able to provide tutelage in. But there’s something else about him…
The moment she glances over at her now-husband to continue her appraisal, he briefly catches her eyes and brusquely rises from his seat, heading towards the other side of the party with a swiftness that leaves her gaping. How rude!
Jane is forced to watch him from across the revelry as she continues her now slightly less dispassionate assessment. Tonight is their wedding night, and a bedding ceremony is to be expected with their match. There will be no hope of getting out of this either. And she has to admit a slight…curiosity to what it might entail. She knows the mechanics of it, of course, but not what it might feel like. She tries to imagine some of what she has read about with her new husband. If he could keep from speaking, of course, the idea of him kissing her, touching her beneath her silks…it’s not without its appeal. If only it wasn’t going to take place in front of every single person in this room.
As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Guildford abruptly appears back by her side.
“Not dancing?”
She nearly snorts at this. Dancing is for people who are enjoying themselves. And whatever is happening here barely deserves to be called that.
“They’re just stumbling and shit-faced.”
“Well let me tell you a secret,” this close, his voice rumbles over her, and his warm gaze brings heat to her face, intriguing her in the way he had that first meeting, “sometimes getting shit-faced is incredibly good fun.”
And there he goes ruining it again. Jane wishes more than anything for a way to shut that stupid mouth of his.
“Kiss! Kiss!”
Et tu, Margaret? Her youngest sister begins chanting the word and of course the whole party joins in. This will be just one more indignity she’s forced into tonight. Though perhaps it will have the small benefit of shutting Guildford up for a brief moment, and satiating some fraction of her curiosity.
Guildford extends a hand to her expectantly, and she tentatively places her own, smaller hand within that broad palm. Clasping her hand to his, he spins her into his waiting arms, tilting her back and leaving her suddenly breathless - and very much wishing to be kissed, even with the crowd looking on. Guildford’s handsome face is bare centimeters from her own, his dark gaze linked hotly with hers. His breath teases against her lips and it would take only the smallest of movements to bring their mouths together. She tries to prepare herself, letting her eyelids fall heavy, pouting her lips as she has seen others do, and trying to relax into Guildford’s strong hold on her. Time seems to slow and stretch interminably as she waits.
But Guildford merely smirks. “As if.”
Jane hears her own words echoed back at her as she’s spun back into place, away from Guildford and nearly crashing into the table beside her. Of all the cruel tricks!
The crowd’s disappointment mirrors her own but they can’t even begin to match her anger and humiliation at that display. Her new father-in-law’s loud announcement of the upcoming bedding ceremony only agitates her further. There no longer seems to be enough air in the room, and she feels herself desperate to leave it. To get as far away from Guildford as she can.
As she rushes out of the room her thoughts are torn between finding some way to run away again tonight - somehow slipping past the watchful eyes of every single person she’s ever known - and of revenging herself on him. If only she had some experience in matters of marital obligation she might know how first to seduce her husband and then leave him the one wanting, alone, and humiliated. But she has no such knowledge or skills. She supposes she could just lie there like a cold fish, completely disinterested, but that was already what was more or less expected of her. Perhaps she could bite him? Somewhere that might really hurt, she muses. Though there’s no guarantee the vile man wouldn’t just enjoy it.
She’s interrupted from thoughts of her revenge when by what she is certain is an actual vampire rifling through the gifting room. Strangely, she feels no fear being alone in a room with a strange vampire, even one who is clearly here to rob them. She can feel herself yelling “thief!” as if he were some common pickpocket, and not a potentially centuries old creature with unmatched strength and speed.
This one, however, apparently isn’t particularly powerful and goes down easily with nothing more than a rough shove from Jane. The brief hint of fangs he quickly tries to hide are the only indication that she’s correct in her estimate of him. All at once, she doesn’t care about whatever he’s trying to steal. She realizes this is her chance to finally get some answers, and steps back to allow him up.
“Do you know a woman named Susannah, she’s like you. A vampire,” She clarifies.
Jane had spotted Susannah briefly at the tavern, but doesn’t know if she made it out safely when the Kingsguard had shown up. Jane had barely made it out herself. If it hadn’t been for her mother’s interference she surely would have been subjected to the trial by fire - the surest way to reveal a vampire and also, unfortunately, completely lethal to vampires and humans alike. No one ever accused the world of being fair.
“We don’t all know each other, actually,” the vampire in front of her condescends, bringing her back to the present. She drops her commanding tone.
“Please, if you know anything - she’s about my height, red hair, Irish accent, anything at all? She’s my closest friend.”
Jane is quick to find the rumors of a vampire’s speed are not exaggerated when the man suddenly darts off at the sound of someone else’s approach, leaving her with no real answers. Unfortunately, it also leaves her with her husband entering the room behind her. And yet he does the strangest thing when he sees her.
He apologizes.
Or at least he says he intended to. He doesn’t actually. And then of course they’re arguing again over which of them had gotten the rawest deal in this marriage bargain. She calls him a rake and a drunkard to his face. He drives her to admit she’s only marrying him for his money (and to save her sister from a marriage to an ancient and smelly Duke), though he never exactly offers up his own reason for agreeing to this. In the end they’re no closer to getting along than they had been before. Except that he keeps drawing nearer to her, looking down at her with those compellingly dark eyes and this absolutely infuriating little smile as if all her attacks on him are adorable rather than damning. And certainly she is nothing if not damning - of his character, of his motives, of his…hygiene?
“And do I smell?” Guildford smirks, voice low and far too near to her.
“I have not smelled you. And I don’t intend to.” She answers back hastily.
As comebacks go, it’s definitely not her best. It doesn’t have even the slightest impact on her husband’s smug expression - if anything it only intensifies it. She’s forced to realize she is able to catch his scent at this distance, here, where they are away from the crowd of others, and it’s not entirely unpleasant. On someone she could actually stand she might even consider it appealing. Far worse, however, is the sight of his tongue suddenly peeking out to run over his bottom lip, likely preparing for some scathing retort at her expense. But all Jane can seem to focus on is her renewed awareness of the plushness of those lips, the straight white teeth behind them, and all the lingering possibilities of tonight.
Thankfully, this alarming train of thought is quickly interrupted by the addition of two more unwelcome intruders - her sister Katherine and her new father-in-law, making yet another pithy remark about tonight’s bedding ceremony. Guildford’s immediate disgust and denial that he would dare ‘give into temptation’ before the ceremony is like a plunge into icy water for all her imaginings about the night ahead.
Jane certainly isn’t looking forward to this any more than her husband is.
When it happens, there’s a great deal more people in their bedchamber than she had anticipated - more than she’s certain even really need to be here. Even with her back to the groom's side, she can still feel the presence of too many eyes on her as she’s swiftly stripped of her wedding gown by the maids, leaving her in only a thin slip of a chemise. The numerous jeweled pins are pulled from her long hair, allowing it to tumble down freely around her face, but nothing can hide the heating of her face at her mother’s ridiculous advice and her sister’s careless reminder that this will probably hurt. Somehow with everything else she had forgotten that part, the pain that reportedly comes with the losing of one’s maidenhead. Jane feels the tightness in her chest growing again, making it difficult to breathe.
Before she can even attempt to settle herself, she’s being spun around to face her new husband, their eyes locking immediately without her quite intending it. He’s clearly been stripped of his wedding garments as she has, leaving him slightly disheveled in only his smalls and his undone shirt, his dark curls in clear disarray from the disrobing. The two delicate necklaces she had vaguely noticed on the previous night now stand in soft contrast to the strong chest below, a small bit of which she can now glimpse through the untied v of his shirt. But in his face she only reads an unexpected nervousness, strangely mirroring her own. Though what would a man have to be nervous about on his wedding night? And especially one with his reputation? Jane frowns as her mind races.
Clearly deciding that they are taking too long for the gathered crowd’s liking, Jane and Guildford are thrust onto the oversized bed by their so-called loved ones. The pair moves far more reluctantly onto their respective sides, and a sheet is quickly tossed over them, enveloping them in a cocoon of white linen. It helps but a little, to block out the eyes and muffle the voices of all those that surround them, impatiently waiting for something to happen. But it leaves her face to face with her husband’s clear apprehension. He doesn’t make any attempt to move himself nearer to her, nor she to him. She curls her arms protectively in front of her, mirroring his own less-than-relaxed position.
“Why aren’t they leaving?” She worries softly into the silence between them.
Jane has been to other bedding ceremonies before, once or twice at least. She remembers clearly leaving once the couple is ‘tucked in’ as it were.
“They need to see our legs to prove consummation.” He answers, looking sorry to say it.
They work in something resembling unison to ruck up the bottom edge of the sheet, revealing their legs only up their knees. Guildford assures her their audience only needs to see their legs ‘frotting’ together to prove things. Jane’s not exactly sure what that means so she just does whatever comes first to mind. She reaches out a bare foot until she meets Guildford’s right ankle, running the edge of her foot tentatively along the length of his calf. It feels very different than her own - the flex of strong muscle beneath the skin, the coarser hair that tickles her as she moves, the skin that feels slightly cooler against her own overheated flesh. She doesn’t entirely hate it. And the crowd doesn’t either, judging by the applause and cheering that come muffled through the sheet.
Jane holds her husband’s gaze and she continues her exploration of his lower legs with her own, feeling Guildford move with her as he aids in their shared ruse. His eyes are almost black in this lighting, and yet there’s a strange luminance to them - they feel almost as though they can see right into her. She hopes he can’t read much into her own expression, as she tries not to enjoy the press of their legs or the sight of that mocking tongue sneaking out to wet his lips again as he glances down. It makes him look almost…hungry? But his earlier dismissal of the very idea that she might prove a temptation assures her he’s just anxious to be done with this. She feels much the same. However, there’s still the problem at hand.
“They’re still not leaving,” she whispers.
“I had hoped to avoid this.”
“Avoid what ?! ” He doesn’t mean…
“I’ll need to come a little closer to you.” Oh gods he can’t really mean to…
Jane isn’t entirely certain what Guildford is planning but he’s reaching into the space between them, tugging at her wrist and guiding her to the center of the bed where they almost meet, leaving only a few small inches between them. She realizes she hasn’t been this close to him since their non-kiss earlier, and she can feel her heartbeat suddenly in her throat at the nearness. This close, he smells even better. She tries to ignore it. One of her arms still clings as a shield in front of her while the other Guildford pulls further to lie across his side. She doesn’t really know what he expects her to do with it so she just lets it dangle over his ribs, hoping an explanation is forthcoming.
It isn’t.
Instead he merely whispers “is this alright?”, barely waiting for the slight tilt of her chin before continuing to rearrange her frame to his liking. He reaches towards her hip to slide along her upper thigh - over her skirt, not that it matters much to her traitorous heartbeat - down to clasp the back of her knee where he pulls her leg up to sit at his hip. This ends up bringing her own hips angled towards his, though Guildford is gentlemanly enough to leave sufficient space between them. Still, to anyone looking at their shapes beneath the covers it will look like her legs are wrapped around him. The boisterous crowd around them seems to be falling for it, at least.
“Seal the deal!” Someone shouts from the crowd.
“Fuck. ” Guildford whispers beside her, and she tenses at the sound. “I need to get on top of you, I won’t…”
Considering how pointedly he’s avoided doing anything that might even resemble that to her thus far, Jane decides to put aside her own anxieties and go along with whatever farce her husband has planned next - at least it hasn’t been too painful so far. Anything to get their families and the clergy out of their bedchamber sometime before sunrise.
She had thought that their position seemed very intimate enough already, but she finds herself still wholly unprepared for the feeling of Guildford easily rolling their bodies so that she now lies beneath him. When his eyes look down into hers from this angle they feel almost predatory, even as he hovers above her, barely touching. His gaze travels down over her face, pausing briefly on her parted lips, down to where she knows he can see how heavily she’s breathing, and she wonders if he can sense her heart is beating faster and faster the longer he stares. But she refuses to back down. She unfurls the arm that had curled protectively in front of her chest, and reaches up to wrap both arms around his neck, tangling her fingers loosely into the curls at his nape. Jane watches as her husband’s eyes close for a moment, brows creasing as he takes in a deep breath. She wonders if he’s this miserable just from having her arms around him or if he’s mentally preparing himself for something worse.
Worse, Jane decides, she can show him. Figuring that he has already started this whole legs-wrapping-around-him business, she can continue it. She draws both of her knees upwards, placing them nearly at his hips which are suspended above her own. Jane feels him shudder a little at the unexpected move, eyes now wide open, likely in horror of her brazenness. But Jane has no intentions of becoming a quiet, demure wife, so he can just get used to it.
Whatever distress Guildford might feel at her actions, however, it doesn’t stop him from taking things one step further. His hand drifts back from where it’s supporting him to repeat his earlier move of tugging her knee up over his hip. Only in this position her chemise has already slipped down her legs, so Guildford’s broad, lightly calloused palm drags maddeningly over the bare skin of her thigh before he reaches his target. This time he tucks her calf around the backs of his own thighs, bare beneath his smalls and surprisingly sturdy. She feels spread wide open beneath his gaze.
“Ready?” He whispers.
“For what ? ” She hisses back.
“I’m going to need to get closer.”
She realizes she can hear the crowd’s chattering growing around them, apparently waiting for something more. But Guildford still has his smalls on, and hasn’t tried to ruck up her chemise any more than it's done on its own, so there’s plenty of layers still between them. Whatever he plans, it can’t be anything that bad.
Jane nods.
And then nearly arches off the bed at the sudden feel of Guildford settling himself between her thighs, their entire bodies pressed solidly together. She hadn’t expected it to feel so..so everything. So intense, so intimate. The weight of him pressing her down into the bed below. His nose nearly brushes her own and his eyes haven’t left hers once. His necklaces dangle between them, brushing against her collarbone with each breath she takes in. At this point only their hips are still misaligned, as his firm abdomen slots between her thighs, where she hopes he can’t feel how warm she’s become through their layers.
The crowd around them quiets, but there’s none of the anticipated sounds of footsteps, or any indication they might be leaving.
Guildford's head dips down to whisper into her ear, and she shivers at the feel of it. It takes her a moment to comprehend what he’s saying to her. “I need you to make a sound like you’re in pain.”
“What? Right now ?” She murmurs back.
“In just a moment, let me…”
“Whe … AH!”
Guildford needn’t have bothered commanding her to make a noise, for the surprised sound practically flies from her lips the second he shifts up and neatly aligns their hips. It almost felt like he had…
But they’re still fully clothed, more or less. All the same, she can feel him pressed firmly against where none but her own hands have ever explored. And this feels a great deal differently than when only his taut belly had lodged there moments ago. Jane’s face heats when it occurs to her just what this might feel like. She shifts a little, trying to discern whether he has his thigh slotted between hers, the way it’s pressing so rigidly against her center, and is met with a sharp groan into her neck before she realizes.
Oh.
Whatever disgust he might feel towards her or their arrangement there’s certainly one part of him that appears interested in the proceedings. Jane almost laughs at the absurdity of their situation. She can tell he’s probably annoyed with his body’s betrayal the way he freezes at her slight motion. He then tries to pull back, severing the contact between their hips. But without quite meaning to, Jane’s body tries to follow him. His arms clamp around her sides like iron bands, preventing her from squirming as he puts more space between them. She can feel her face heating further in embarrassment. He still lays heavily on top of her however, and she’s only now just realized that she can finally hear the sounds of footsteps leaving.
Jane attempts to sit up immediately at the sound but Guildford still pins her beneath him.
“Just wait. ”
And so she does wait, listening for the sound of the final person leaving the room and the door closing behind them. She tries to calculate the number of people who were there by how long this procession seems to take, at the pace they all seem to be moving. Mental math is a far better use of her mind than paying attention to the way Guildford’s weight feels holding her down, his breath damp against the sensitive skin of her neck. Jane is certain she only imagines the brief brush of…what? His nose? His lips? His tongue ? His something against her pulse. Because his body remains completely rigid aside from the odd tremor. Almost as if he’s angry at something.
Well good, she thinks, because she’s not exactly happy about this situation herself.
The second she hears the door latch closed, Guildford is off of her and practically across the room, not even looking at her. Jane just lies there feeling stupefied, her arms having fallen to the side and her knees still spread. She realizes her chemise is still pooled at the top of her thighs and hurries to push it back into place. She sits up more slowly.
Guildford finally turns to her, but he doesn’t look angry at least. More…apprehensive.
“Jane, now that we are finally alone, I think there is something I need to tell you.”
And then he’s pacing in front of their marital bed, no longer looking at her but clearly trying to choose his next words carefully - a first, she thinks.
“I need to explain my reasons for marrying you.”
She snorts. “You needn’t bother, I am already well aware.”
The pacing stops, and he turns to look at her with surprise.
“You…know what I am then?”
“Of course”, Jane sits up straighter, attempting to look every bit the lady she supposedly is now. “You’re the second son of the second son of an accountant, and I’m cousin to the King of England.”
Guildford frowns.
“You think I married you because your cousin is the King of England?” He asks slowly, as if the very idea of it is absurd and not the entire basis of their marriage.
“Your father is counselor to the King, what better way to secure your family’s standing?” She can’t believe she’s parroting her mother right now but there’s really no other logical explanation for marrying a complete stranger with practically no dowry.
“Because I so desperately want to join your cousin’s court,” he laughs bitterly.
“I’m certain your father wishes you to…”
“My father’s wishes have nothing to do with…”
“So you just agreed to marry a complete stranger all on your own? For no reason?” Her voice starts to rise as they continue speaking over one another.
“And marrying a stranger for his money is the very height of nobility and reason, I suppose?” He scoffs, throwing her earlier words back into her face. She can’t understand why it makes her so angry when she told him the exact same thing just a few short hours ago.
“And to save my sister!” She reminds him. She goes a step further, “I tried to stop it, you know - I ran away twice. I quite nearly faced a trial by fire! And in fact I did face a trial by court doctor when I tried to fake the Affliction. Only the threat of being bled out and forced to consume my own blood could force me down that aisle!”
Jane is nearly shaking by the end of her speech, fists curled and face red. She can’t believe how furious he makes her!
Guildford’s lips form a tight smile. “Thank you. Thank you for letting me know it was either me or torture. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”
Jane realizes too late how deeply hurtful her words are, but she can’t just take them back. She wouldn’t even know how to, considering they are essentially the truth. She thinks to perhaps explain it’s not about him - well, not entirely about him - but about the whole concept of marriage, of someone possessing her, that she’s reacting against.
But she can’t think how to begin. And he’s clenching one hand in his hair and looking more tired than she’s ever seen him in their short acquaintance. A bit like the life has been drained out of him.
“The party should be winding down shortly. In a little while I should be able to return you to your own room.”
“My own room,” she repeats, somehow turning the phrase into a question.
“You certainly don’t think you’d be staying in here do you? I have other matters to attend to.”
“I thought…” Though she’s not entirely sure what she thought - that something would happen between them after their families had left? That they would still share a room even if they didn’t..?
“You thought I’d, what? Ravish you the moment we were alone? Is that what you expected from a ‘notorious rake’, as you so charmingly put it? Or are you expecting me to run off to someone else’s bed on my wedding night .”
“Of course not! I didn’t think you would… ” Jane isn’t sure whether she’s defending herself or him. He certainly can’t think she’d - and as vile as he was she never thought he might try and do anything against her wishes, or that he’d abandon her so quickly after he went through all this trouble to marry her.
Guildford un-tenses a little at her responses, finally looking back over at her, assessing her. Jane straightens her skirts, for lack of anything better to do.
“Did you want me to…?”
Ravish you, have my way with you without our families looking on.
“No! No! ” She realizes she answers a little too forcefully.
But instead of upsetting him, as most of her other words seem to, her answer only makes him grin. He leans over and plants his hands on the bed in front of her, putting them at eye level.
“Are you sure about that? I seem to remember you wrapping yourself around me quite forcefully.”
The predatory look she had thought she witnessed earlier comes back full force as Guildford leans forward a little, eyes now openly roaming her figure - looking almost hungrily at her. Jane gapes at the insinuation of his words.
“You said we needed to be closer.”
His grin grows wider, “I believe I said I needed to be closer. You didn’t need to do anything. You chose to throw your legs around me like a…”
“I was just trying to hurry things along so they’d leave us alone. I wasn’t the one thrusting my, my…”
“Manhood?” He supplies, unhelpfully, grin growing even wider.
“Your erection,” Jane is certainly well-read enough to know the proper term for it, though she’s never before said it out loud. “I wasn’t the one who was getting too into our deception.”
Guildford shifts to bring one knee up onto the bed, moving forward only slightly but it feels like he’s practically on top of her.
“You think that I can’t tell how much you wanted it? That I couldn’t feel your heart racing, your entire body growing hot at the very thought of it? That I couldn’t smell how much you wanted me?”
His low voice travels straight through her, making her pulse rise and her face heat.
“You’re a pig. You’re nothing but a disgusting…” she searches her mind for something lower than a pig, “a disgusting beast!”
He practically growls at that.
“I am your Lord Husband,” he reminds her.
“You’re not my Lord anything. We are nothing to one another.” She hisses, making up her mind that she is done with this conversation. “I shall go to my own room. Or anywhere that’s not here!”
She throws herself off the bed and flees to the first door she can find, needing to be anywhere but in this room.
“Jane, that’s the…” Guildford calls out behind her, but she ignores him, slamming the door behind her.
She realizes too late that she should have at least stayed long enough to hear that last part. ‘Dressing room’. She’s somehow in a closet right now. She tries to open the door again only to find it locked behind her. As if this evening couldn’t get any more embarrassing.
But she refuses to demean herself by banging on the door and asking to be let out. If Guildford is a gentleman, he will just come and unlock it for her. It’s his stupid estate with too many stupid doors.
Unfortunately, Guildford appears to be no such gentleman. Instead his footsteps seem to take him in the other direction, and she can hear the door to their room shut behind him. Jane finally throws aside her dignity and pounds at the door, begging for someone, anyone to let her out - but gets no answer in response. Everyone has apparently already left the party. Once again, no one is coming to save her.