I watched the moon make its passage across my bedroom wall, the shadows of trees dancing in the pale blue hue. I had been reading the books the Duke had gifted me until early in the morning, but now I was eager to recommence my affections with the Duke. It is unwomanly to say so, but if he had walked in right then and kissed me without permission, I would not have objected.
I must make my state of mind clear, as a defense of sorts, because already the men among you are judging me, calling me unwomanly, perhaps even witchy. For the longest time Father had been trying to get me to marry, as was proper, and I do not blame him for it. If I could only attach myself to a prosperous family, I might elevate the Archers out of the rut they had been stuck in for generations. But my father was too soft-hearted to push with too much insistence, and I was allowed, for the most part, to form my own character.
I chose the character of a book-dweller, spending most of my early adulthood among books, neglecting my “social obligations”. And whilst Father did not hinder me, neither did he approve. So at the point of meeting the Duke, I was afloat in a sea of unrecognition. I desperately wanted somebody to recognize me for what I was, not for who I was supposed to be.
And then came the Duke. His words in the library, his beautiful words which I shall always remember, resounded in me, multiplying each day and increasing in force. The Duke, I was sure, recognized me. And there was something else. There was a bodily reaction, also; my body called out for him, and the taste of his lips on mine was still fresh.
I was his, mind and body, from the second we kissed in the library. I believed with my entire soul that I had found my equal in life. But if he left me now, to wait all night… If he did not come—
Then there came a knock at the door, a secret, soft knock.
I rose and crept to the door, being careful that my steps did not made too much noise. Upon opening it, I saw that it was the Duke, dressed only in britches and a shirt, without any of the adornments that befit his station. He smiled and nodded to his clothes.
“I do not need to dress ceremoniously for you, my love?”
“Of course not,” I said. In fact, it made me feel closer to him that he felt comfortable appearing before me in this fashion. I opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”
He came into the room; and before long we were in each other’s arms.
I wish to tell this tale of a poor Archer girl and a Duke with the utmost honesty and openness. To that end I will describe the next section in a detail many of you will find scandalous. It thrills me to recount it, but it may not thrill the more prudent among you: the more “stuck in the past” among you. For the Duke and I, two unmarried persons, made love this night. We made love and I am not ashamed if the world knows it. If I am strung up for a hussy upon publication of this account I will still hold my head high with pride. Those that would string me up no nothing of real love, with their pretense and boundaries and guidelines.
The Duke and I lay upon the bed, having fallen there in mutual reverie when he entered. His lips were on mine and my hands, as though hungry themselves, roved over his body. There was an oppressive and yet not unpleasant warmth in the room. It was as though the two of us were kissing and touching within a stove. I let out moans of pleasure, throwing myself wholly into the moment, something I rarely did. My hands moved down his body, down to that part of a man’s body I had only heard whispers of, but had never seen, let alone touched.
I moved my hands down, down, down, and grabbed that part of him. It was rock-hard to the touch, and I felt my body respond immediately. So, I thought, this is what is meant by lust between a man and a woman. He let out a low growl when I touched him there: a growl filled with pleasure. I rubbed it up and down, up and down, and was glad to hear his growls intensify. My own privates were very wet and hot now.
He moved his hands down my nightclothes and then touched my private area. It was like small flames danced at the end of his fingertips. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming the Castle down. He rubbed my private area harder and faster, and I became wetter and hotter. Neither of us was overly capable at this sort of thing – neither of us had been with a person before – but instinct led us on. I forgot the judgment that this act caused, and the moment took me up in a rush of euphoria.
Before I knew it, we were tearing at each other’s clothes, ripping them apart like animals unleashed from long captivity. Soon my nightclothes lay in a heap upon the floor, and his shirt and britches presently joined them. The light was low, but I was able to see the contours of his muscular body, the muscles straining hard. A thrill went through me and I placed my hands on his chest.