Archive of Our Own

Beautiful.

It is the only word he can bring to mind as he looks at her in this moment.

The way the soft candlelight of the ballroom catches the angles of her face so gently. Beautiful. Her dark curls tamed in an elegant chiffon but still a few loose locks have escaped, alluding to the cascade of dark ringlets he knows lay beneath the veneer of propriety. His fingers, cradling her elbow, twitch in their desire to push a tendril behind her ears, wondering how soft it would feel. How warm her cheek may be beneath his hands. And her eyes. Oh, her eyes will be the end of him. Endlessly dark and full of secrets that he would happily spend his life discovering. Though it is rare that he is allowed to be this close to her, and now her eyes reveal their true depths. Not dark at all, it is an illusion. They are marbled by rivers of gold, shimmering in the brightly lit room, reflecting his hopes, his dreams, his want. Beautiful.

And then there is the feel of her skin beneath his fingers as he guides her around the dance floor. He has never been more grateful to have forgone his usual gloves, allowing him to savour the touch of her skin. It feels wildly indecent surrounded by all these people and yet he cannot help himself. At first he had tried to be respectful and gentle, but it had overwhelmed him, the softness, the heat. His hands are greedy, unrestrained. Then there is the way she never lets her hands lift from him, they whisper along his arms and shoulders, never breaking contact, as if she too needs more. Is desperate for more. Every single part of him urges him forward and compels him be as close to her as possible. The way he aches for her though is not unpleasant. It is gratifying. It is spiritual. It is beautiful.

And that scent, god damn it, that scent. Is there anything more bloody intoxicating in the whole world. Anything else that could drive him so close to the edge of his own destruction than the scent of her.

He curses himself for ever agreeing to this. How is he going to survive the next few minutes if she keeps looking up at him like that, like she knows she is his whole reason to exist, even if he does not know it yet himself.

What is he even doing here, he hates balls. Hates the pomp and ceremony. The gossip. The warm champagne. The enforced dancing. He had only agreed to this so he could cross it off his list in his courtship of the diamond. Yet now here he is, losing himself to the one thing he was desperate to avoid. The one woman.

Round and round he spins her. Edging himself closer to her with each turn, wrapping her into him until there is no space between them at all. Still she never pulls back, she does not just allow it but she pushes into him too. Presses herself thrillingly close. And they fit so perfectly.

On and on their eyes gaze at each other. Endless. Her eyes are just endless. Drawing him in. Somehow it always feels like this. Like the closer he is to her, the more peace he finds. Like the chaos of his life; the crushing pressure of his duty, the overwhelming burden of his fight for perfection. It all stills. It is just her. Looking at him. Anthony. That is the most beautiful thing of all.

A gentle spin to turn her, as the dance demands, so her back presses against his chest now, as they move to the music together effortlessly. The full length of her against him, desirously close and hot and overpowering. Vague memories of what he had planned to say at this moment flitter through his mind, about permission and duty, but none of it matters anymore. There is only her. Only that scent which he lets himself inhale at leisure, the steps allowing him to rest his cheek against hers, to dip his nose to brush at her exposed neck. His movement unbidden. And unknown to anyone but her. Did she just lean her head back, to give him more access. To allow him this. Was that her whimper as his nose brushed her skin?

Another spin and they are face to face, somehow still swaying to the music.

Feet moving of their own accord and she is dangerously close, the scent invading him now until he can barely remember that they are not the only two people in the room. In the world. It is only her.

No space between them. Her breath on his lips. Hot and urgent.

No noise but their heartbeats. Finding each other. Joining as one.

She is surrounding him. She is everywhere. She is everything.

He could lean in right now, capture her lips. Claim her for his own. Isn’t that all he wants?

One more look at her eyes. It is all she wants too. How he can know that from one look he does not know, but he is certain.

Eyes dropping to her lips. He wonders what they would feel like, taste like. How would her body would react to him.

In the end it was not a decision at all. How he leant forward to find her lips.

It was fated.

The release as they meet makes it feel as if he is floating, feet aloft as his arms encircle her and they are held miraculously a few feet from the polished dance floor by the strength of their need for each other alone. And in that briefest of moments, as their lips savour each other, his heart grows so impossibly large he fears it will burst. Her fingers tighten at the nape of his neck, pulling him into her. Asking for more and he is ready to give her everything.

…………..

His lips on hers. Is it not everything, absolutely everything she has ever wanted. Is it not the only coherent thought that has rattled around in her head ever since his fingers first wrapped around hers only minutes ago. When his eyes locked into hers and refused to drop away not even for a second.

His lips. Was that not all she had thought about when she felt him inhale along the length of her neck. His nose bumping against her bare skin, she could have screamed in her desperation for his mouth to touch her, even for only a moment, just to feel what it would be like.

And now here they were. Just the two of them. Floating above the floor like she was ascending to the heavens with Lord Bridgerton’s lips on hers. Anthony’s. Anthony’s lips.

A gasp pierces through their air, shattering their solace.

Then another. And another. A symphony now as the room vibrates with whispers. A violin squeaks, before all the music stops. Other dancers stilling mid-spin. A hundred eyes stare and judge and gossip.

Lord Bridgerton’s lips on hers. His lips. On hers. In the ballroom.

In front of everyone.

Her body cannot move quickly enough to match the fretful panic of her mind but eventually she has wriggled free of his arms and her eyes scan around them and everywhere she looks are faces of shock and outrage. Apart from one face. One face looks betrayed. One face looks utterly heartbroken. Edwina.

One more step back but his hands have not yet let her go. His fingers grasping the very tips of hers and she foolishly lets herself look up at him. He looks devastated. Wrecked. Anthony.

But her peripheral tells her Edwina is moving, and her feet take to chase her before she can think anymore of the beseeching eyes that trail after her.

‘Edwina.’ Her shout is strangled, and cuts through the silent shock of the room as Kate barrels through the crowded edge of the dance floor. There is no need for a pretence of demureness now. Not when she has just ruined everything.

‘Edwina.’ Finally she breaches the suffocating air of the ballroom and is in one of the many corridors of Aubrey Hall. Looking left and right, there are just empty floors wherever she looks. ‘Please, Edwina.’ Tears well at her eyes. Left. She gambles on left.

‘Kate.’ Damn him. Why is he here. Why now.

‘Edwina.’ ‘Kate.’ He echoes her every call. Both becoming more urgent each time until eventually he catches up with her.

‘Kate, stop. Just stop.’

‘No, you stop.’ She spins around angrily to face him as his fingers attempt to wrap around her wrists. She pulls from his grasp before he has a chance to tether her. ‘Stop giving me orders.’

‘It is not an order, she has clearly gone and you running wildly through empty hallways is not going to help matters.’ They are both staring at each other angrily, heavy breaths rattling between them. ‘Nor will the two of us being seen arguing.’ The way his voice manages to soothe away her panic annoys her more than she can say. He reaches for her wrist again, more gently and this time she lets him take it. ‘Please.’ He nods towards a door slightly ajar beside him, and despite herself she finds she follows him. Would she not follow him anywhere?

‘What were you thinking.’ She hisses as they enter the dimly lit room. The moment she walks in she regrets it, the air is enthused with him, as if her whole body is instantly assaulted by that distinctive smell that has plagued her dreams for weeks. They are in is his study, she realises. Dark, orderly, meticulous, brooding. It could not be more him. It cannot be allowed to effect her though, she needs her wits about her if she is to survive this. ‘With everyone looking. How will we…what can we… what were you thinking?’

‘What was I thinking?’ He strides deep into the room as she still hovers close to the door, ensuring she is able to flee when the opportunity presents itself. He appears as frantic as a caged animal. He cannot stop moving, his feet pacing the floor agitatedly, hands fidgeting with his cuffs, eyes searching her face endlessly. But then he stops still. Stares unseeingly at her briefly, as if making a decision. His voice is no less frantic but there is an assuredness in his eyes now as he speaks ‘There has only been one thought in my mind tonight. For weeks now. Only one thought, Miss Sharma. And I have tried, god knows I have tried, to get it out my head but it is useless. It embedded itself there that first day we met and has been relentless ever since.’ There is a piercing intensity in his eyes, so full of anger and hunger and longing, it pins her in place and she can barely breathe under the force of it. ‘You. That is all I ever think about. You.’

Heart pounding, she is too scared to move. She does not think she can bear another moment under his gaze, it is as if it is searing through her, burning everything it touches and yet she wants to let the fire rage. Burn and burn until there is nothing left of who she was.

When he continues his voice has dropped to that timbre that rolls through her in waves. ‘You invade my every waking moment, driving me to distraction until I cannot think straight, cannot think of anything but you. You stalk my dreams like some insatiable siren, always out of reach but never relenting in your claim of me. And I cannot make it stop.’ He takes a step towards her now. Then another until he is close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her lips. ‘I do not want it to stop. I just want you, more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, until I cannot breathe for it.’

He is too close. Far too close. The heat emanating from his body taking her back to that wondrous moment when their lips collided. That awful, wondrous moment.

‘Tell me, please.’ He does not even try to hide the desperation in his voice. ‘Tell me you want me too.’

His hand reaches out, fingers looping around her elbow, edging her closer still. His thumb runs gently along the crease of her arm, the skin so sensitive she shudders. For the first time since she entered the room, he breaks away from her eyes to look down. Fascinated with how her skin prickles under his touch.

In the momentary reprieve from his stare she has enough resolve to pull her arm away, to step backwards, to try to clear her head of this man. Now she is pacing, trying to make enough space between them so she can think.

‘Want you?’ She spits, more aggressively than she intends but her emotions crash around her so wildly she cannot control it. ‘Why would I want you? You are the man my sister is expecting a proposal from. The man who has pursued her at every turn despite my attempts to warn you away. The man who goes out of his way to vex me. The man who I hate. How could I possibly want you?’

His eyes are slow in their ascent to find hers again, as if they are scared to find what they will see.

Yet it is her who is most effected at the sight, he has shrunk from her, the light that always blinds her in his eyes has diminished. The poised, arrogant, smug viscount she dislikes so is nowhere to be seen. Just a scared and broken man left to slump against the edges of his desk.

‘I do not want you, Anthony.’ Her whisper unfurls slowly, and it takes him a moment to hear each word. It is his name on her lips that sparks the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes. ‘But I need you. With every fibre of my being, I need you.’ She watches as he swallows heavily, shaking his head gently as if in disbelief. Her feet carry her to him, a slow step with each sentence. ‘All of my days I think of you. All of my nights I dream of you. I desire you. I obsess over you. I cannot think of anything else, but you. You consume my very being. I need you.’

Still slumped against his desk, Kate moves to edge herself between his legs, marvelling at the heat of him around her. A gentle hand rests beneath his chin, lifting his face so that he looks up at her, his eyes filled with fear and wonder.

‘But I cannot allow myself to want you, Anthony. It would ruin everything.’ Her voice trembles.

‘No.’ He says it with such certainty as he calmly reaches out to take one of her hands in his. His grip firm yet soft. ‘Nothing this beautiful could ruin anything, Kate.’

His words are too sweet, too tempting. She cannot listen to them, she cannot look at him any longer. She will not survive it.

‘But Edwina loves you.’ Her eyes study their hands now, how natural his long elegant fingers look threaded with hers.

‘No she does not. Edwina loves the idea of me. She does not even know me.’ His thumb runs over her knuckles, there is something so intimate about the action it is as if a thousand butterflies dance in her chest. ‘You know me, Kate. You see everything, even the parts I try so hard to hide, you see. And I see you. My darling Kate, I see you.’

A tear escapes her. Rolling slowly down her cheek until he reaches up with his free hand to wipe it away, his finger soft against her cheek.

‘Look at me.’ His voice patient yet wanting. ‘Please.’

‘More orders.’ But she says is softly.

He smiles, and it is a devastating thing that smile. It draws her eyes unbidden.

She had been afraid of what she would see when she looked up and she was right to be so. It is so tender, so hopeful, so honest the look that he is giving her at this moment that she is completely powerless not to close to the space between them. She is powerless not to press her lips to his.

He surges back against her, standing so that her can bring his hands around her waist. They feel impossibly large, his hands, as they imprint into the small of her back, moulding her fully into his arms until she is completely lost to him.

Their lips savour each other now, unseen and without interruption they explore and worship and promise, and it is like nothing she has ever felt before.

They pull apart only when their need for oxygen outweighs their need for each other. As he catches her eyes again, he laughs. A sound of such simple joy, matched with a smile so wild and free that he looks like a different man.

And damn it if she is not smiling back at him.

She thinks she could live in the moment forever.

A stern knock at the door steals both their smiles.

‘Anthony? Are you in there?’ His mother’s voice creeps through the closed office door.

‘Damn it.’ Anthony swears under his breath.

‘Anthony?’ She is knocking rather insistently now.

‘Lord Bridgerton?’ Then a sharper sound against the door. A cane. Hit with some gumption.

‘Christ.’ She watches him clench his jaw, placing a finger to his lips to show they should stay quiet.

‘Anthony. I know you are in there.’

‘Kate?’

‘Mama?’ Kate does not mean to respond, wanting to heed his warning, but there was something about the softness of her mothers voice. Her darling Mary, always soothing, always calm. She needed her.

‘Anthony? Are you in there with Miss Sharma?’ His mother sounds rather distressed now.

‘Not now, mother.’ His voice is suitably authoritative but it does not stop the incessant knocking.

‘You cannot be in there together, alone.’ His mother was unperturbed.

‘I think it is a little late for propriety, do you not agree?’ Kate flashes him a look for that, and he has enough sense to look slightly embarrassed.

‘I most certainly agree, Lord Bridgerton.’ Lady Danbury again. ‘Though that does not mean we must throw the baby out with the bath water.’

Anthony sighs heavily. Though before he can say any more the door swings open and in hustle the three matriarchs, with matching looks of consternation.

Kate had not until that moment realised that Anthony’s hands were still on her waist, his thumbs still nestled into the valley of her hips, his fingers digging into the small of her back. His hands snap away from her the moment he sees his mothers eyes widening at the sight.

Kate too moves away, retreating to a far corner. Trying to make herself as small as she can, as if hiding in the shadows will erase all the terrible decisions she has made since she landed on English shores.

‘Have you seen Edwina?’ Mary still finds her in the shadows, she always could.

’I tried to follow her but she was too fast.’ Shame prickled at Kate’s edges at the thought of her little sister, hiding somewhere in the darkness of his home, whilst Kate lost herself to his light.

‘If she has any sense she will stay well out of sight for the rest of the night.’ It was Lady Danbury who responds, her mother just stood quietly, looking awfully pale. Poor Mary, how could Kate do this to her. ‘As should the two of you.’

‘We were staying out of sight, until you three barged in here.’ Anthony is bristling in his annoyance.

‘Barged in here? Anthony you should be grateful it is us and not another member of the ton who finds you two like this. You are already quickly running out of options here.’

Kate’s pulse races suddenly. All she had thought of until this moment was Edwina, and what she must be thinking. Well, that is not entirely true as a lot of the last half an hour had been consumed by the thought of his lips and his hands and how beautifully dark his eyes were and…she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts of him. That is how she got herself in this mess in the first place.

It is now though, with a startling realisation, she sees that hurting Edwina was not the only outcome she needs to survive here. A scandal has to be avoided and the only way to do that would be…

‘A betrothal tonight is your only chance. If we nip this in the bud quickly, announce it this evening as though it were always the plan then you may still all come out of this relatively untarnished.’ Lady Danbury was saying it as though it was the easiest solution in the world. Kate could not breathe. And his eyes were on her again, unrelenting. Always searching for her, finding her when she just wanted to hide.

Marriage. A forced marriage. To Lord Bridgerton. What would Edwina do then. And her life, her independence, her India, all gone. She clutched a hand to her chest, her vision was blurring, she just could not catch her breath, her lungs screaming for attention.

‘Kate.’ He was walking towards her now, his eyes filled with fear but she turns from him. Gathers herself. Steadies her own breath. The room waits for her, he waits for her.

‘I need a moment more alone with Miss Sharma.’ His voice is quiet but forceful.

‘Alone? Have you nothing left of your sanity?’ His mother seems frantic, enough for him to look guilty.

Lady Danbury ignores his request, and her conviction freezes Kate to the spot. ‘This is the only way to save both your families at this point, Lord Bridgerton. You must announce an engagement.’

‘Absolutely not.’ His voice is flat. Steady. Assertive.

‘Lady Danbury is right, Anthony. The ballroom is awash with the scandal already, there is no way to avoid what has just happened.’

‘No, I will not accept it. A moment of indiscretion does not a future make. We will handle it, you two always find a way. Now just give me a moment more.’ His eyes were moving determinedly between Lady Danbury and his mother, yet somehow she knew he was watching her too. Gauging her reaction? Warning her to keep quiet? Regretting all the words he had just said?

‘Anthony, not this time, we cannot avert this scandal without a proposal. You have no choice.’ His mother went to reach out for him but he drew himself away. Standing as tall as he could. ‘You must wed.’

‘Mother, I will not allow the next Viscountess Bridgerton to be made through a forced betrothal. That is my final word on the matter. This is my house, it is my decision.’

His mother and Lady Danbury exchange worried looks.

It is as if Kate is watching it all happen from a distance. As though they are talking of someone else, somebody else’s future, or lack there of. It is all muffled and quiet and unclear. Though one thought is piercing in its clarity. His refusal to marry her. As though it is the most unthinkable of fates. All the words he had said only a moment before, it meant nothing, just another game, a way to vex her, trick her. She does not even know why she is surprised. A life with her must be so insipid to a man like him that even when it would save their families, he could not tolerate it. As her thoughts become chaotic and the foreshadowing of her bleak future begin to cloud her mind, she hears her name in that honeyed baritone. The voice that always seemed find her, even in the darkest of places.

‘Miss Sharma?’ She looks at him. For the first time since she was in his arms, she looks at him. Usually he tells her a hundred things with his eyes, but now, at this most important of moments, she does not have a clue what he is thinking. ‘I asked if you would allow me a moment more with you?’

‘Kate?’ It is the first time Lady Mary had spoken in some time, though her eyes had stayed closely on her daughter throughout. Kate nods gently, though it does not seem to ease the concern on her mother’s face. ‘Very well.’

‘I hope you know what you are doing, Anthony.’ His mother’s tone is unforgiving as she leads the other ladies from the room. ‘We will be waiting outside, you have two minutes.’

Once the door closes, the room is deafening in its silence. Neither of them move, and Kate begins to hope that the shadows will swallow her up, take her away from it all.

When he finally draws himself up, straightening his shoulders and finding his strength, he turns to face her.

He takes a deep breath. Clears his throat. And then simply says:

‘Marry me.’

…………..

It had been quite startling, the realisation that he was in love her. He had heard it said many times that there was a thin line between love and hate, but he had always considered those people were fools incapable of making a decision. Not like him, perfectly able to see the wood from the trees. And he was fairly sure that he hated Miss Sharma on a number of occasions in the last few weeks, how she would make his blood boil at the slightest infraction, how she was always one step ahead of him, always quicker and smarter and wittier than he was, how she was always looking at him with that haughty expression as if she knew how her beauty made him incapable of lucid thought. He does not know when it shifted though, from wanting to avoid her to desperately wanting to be near her at all times. For her to push his buttons, to squeeze him until his breath would quicken and his pulse would race and then all he could think about was kissing that beautiful smirk off her face.

Though the exact moment he knew it was love had occurred just about a half an hour ago. When her lips had touched his. And he had realised with a somewhat world shattering providence that he would give his entire life just to kiss her again. That all the determination he had to avoid love, to hide from it, to shun it. It was all insignificant to the power she held over him. His obsession with duty and perfection and even his name, he would give it all up in an instant. Just to feel her lips on his. To touch her hand. To feel her breath against his cheek. He was no longer anything if he was not with her.

Like he said, it was really quite startling as revelations go.

‘Marry me.’ He says it again, more certainly this time.

Still no response. No movement. No sound. Just her wide eyes, lips sightly parted in shock.

‘Are you mad?’ She finally speaks, her voice trembling.

‘Yes.’ And he can’t help it but smile. ‘Completely. I am completely, wildly, foolishly, madly in love with you. So marry me.’

He is not used to seeing her speechless and from the look on her face, she is not used to it either. It takes her a full minute to gather her thoughts before she can speak again. The whole time they are just stood listening to each others shaking breaths.

‘I do not understand. You just spent that entire conversation refusing such a notion to our mothers. What game are you playing?’

‘This is no game, Kate. I meant every word I said. I will not propose to you due to some forced obligation for an action that I do not regret in the first place. An action I would repeat again and again if I knew it would lead me here. To you, right now.

‘Nobody will decide my fate but me. And I will not let anybody force you to do something you do not wish for.

‘If you do not want to marry me, then I will do everything in my power to protect your decision. I will take the full blame for my actions, sacrifice myself willingly to clear your name, I will even pay for your passage back to India if that is what you want. There is not a soul in this world that could force me to cause you hurt, or to take away from your happiness in any way. If you think otherwise then perhaps you do not know me at all. I will not allow anyone to force your hand, scandal or no scandal.’ He braved a step towards her now, then another. ‘I refuse to ask you to marry me just because I am forced to do it.’ A final step and he is immediately before her. ‘I am asking you to marry me because I love you.’

For a long moment, she holds his gaze. Lost to his words, to his closeness until he sees her shake it away. His Kate, always fighting, always ready for battle.

‘You do not love me. You cannot.’ She was shaking her head, softly at first and then more strongly, stepping back from him as she begun to pace the room. ‘You actually are mad, aren’t you. Mad.’ But he did not look like a madman. Not at this moment. Not as he looked up at her. He looked like a man in love.

‘I will not allow it.’ She cries almost petulantly, she was losing her control now and she knew it.

‘You will not allow me to love you?’ He was irritatingly calm.

‘No.’ She snaps.

‘You have no choice I am afraid. I cannot stop loving you anymore than I can stop breathing.’

She stops her pacing and let’s out a tiny sound, almost a whimper, as she puts a hand against her chest as if trying to steady her frantic breaths. He watches and waits for her, the calmness in her storm.

‘Damn you Anthony Bridgerton.’ Though her voice held none of the malice that her words implied. It is quiet now, soft. ‘You love me?’

‘Yes, I love you Kathani Sharma.’ He moved towards her. Slowly, letting her accepting him. Until he was close enough to see the candlelight reflecting in her eyes. She allowed him to place a hand against her cheek, a thumb running gently across her soft skin. ‘When I thought I had lost you the other morning in the gardens, that damned bee, I realised then I could not survive in a world without you. I have never met anyone like you. You have changed everything I know, everything I want, everything I am.’

His other hand finds her waist, fingers flexing gently as they pull her closer to him, and somehow she is falling into him again, letting his lips claim hers.

‘I love you.’ He whispers it into his kiss, as she melts against him. ‘Do you want to be my wife, Kate? Hang every soul out there, I do not care of what they think or what they do. All I care about is what you want. What do you want?’

He cradles her face in his hands now as he waits for her. It is a beautiful thing, watching her coming home to him. Slow, careful but blossoming into something magnificent.

‘I want you.’ It is a quiet admission, but the passion that flares in her eyes as she says it stirs his soul. ‘I want to be your wife, Anthony. I love you.’ A small smile is curling on her lips. ‘I cannot quite believe it. I do not know how or why or when it happened, but I fell in love with you too.’ She rests her forehead on his, fingers gripping tightly at the lapels of his jacket. ‘I love you.’

His whole body smiles.

‘So is that a yes?’

‘Yes, I will marry you, Anthony.’

Lips find lips again, joyous now, and tainted with salty tears. Her hands are on his cheeks as she feels him smiling, fingers dipping into his dimples. He has never felt so whole

‘But what about Edwina?’ She is pulling away from him again but he will not let her now.

‘Does she not deserve this? Love? She is young, she is the diamond, she will find someone who deserves her. We will help her. And she loves you more than anything, she will forgive you in time.’

He finds her lips again but still she pulls away. ‘But the mamas?’

‘Are no doubt listening to every word.’ He pauses and they both smile as they hear a scuffling of feet just behind the study door. ‘And would not dream of interrupting this newly betrothed couple for a few more minutes at least?’ He waits to hear a small cough of agreement from his mother before smiling down at Kate, all teeth and dimples and joy.

‘But what about…’ But this time he kisses away her question.

‘My love.’ The endearment falling from him so simply. ‘We will be untangling this scandalous mess I have caused for many weeks to come. But tomorrow will arrive just the same, so let us not worry of it for now. Just be here with me. I have been lost to you for weeks, let me find myself again.’

His arms encircle her, locking her into him as he gazes down at her. His whole world in his arms.

‘I love you.’ He whispers it, and it should feel strange on his tongue but it does not. He did not even realise it was missing, this piece of him, but now he has found it he cannot believe he survived alone for so long.

‘I love you too.’ He captures her words in a searing kiss.