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Summary:Daphne insists on Colin to tell her where the duel is held. It just leaves Colin in a dilemma. What do to about you (around Hyacinth’s age)? He can’t leave you unattended.

“Where are they!” – vented Daphne out, bursting into the parlor. You gasped when she entered so furious. Her cheeks puffed up, her face turning a shade of red. – “Who? Daphne, you have to be more precise.” – answered Colin who was playing the piano. His fingers brushing the keys as a soft melody filled the room. Daphne came standing by the piano, her face sour as if she was about to burst. – “I think you know very well of who I speak!” – replied she, looking over her shoulder to you. She granted you a smile before removing all traces of it towards her brother.

Colin swallowed nervously, continuing to play the piano as if nothing was out of the ordinary. – “You mean Mama?” – asked you, thinking it was her Daphne was looking for. – “Anthony!” – shouted Daphne out. So loud it made Colin touch the wrong notes, ending the sweet melody with a hard clash. The sound was so sudden and loud, it made you cover your ears. The book suddenly shut before you reached the ending. Colin got up, taking Daphne by her elbow. He pulled her closer to the window, away from you. Daphne moved her arm up so his grip on her would lose. – “Don’t tell me you have not a clue, because I know you do.”

Colin inhaled deep, looking nervously away. – “Tell me where they are, brother. You need to tell me.” – whispered Daphne to him. She tried her sweet approach, hoping to gain favor this way. Colin pressed his lips together, slightly shaking his head. – “It is a matter of life and death!” – Daphne raised her voice a bit, yet still out of reach to you. – “Daphne…” – started Colin. Daphne moved her hand up, annoyed by his presence. – “You know where they are! Tell me!” – begged Daphne. Colin sighed looking past his shoulder over to you. You were staring with wide curious eyes at your siblings, trying to understand what was happening. – “Colin!” – called she out, losing her patience.

She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along. – “Daphne wait!” – Colin twisted his arm so that Daphne released her grip on him. – “I can’t…” – said he, looking ashamed at the ground. – “You will take me to them!” – Daphne was determined to reach the duel before any true harm was done. She took his arm again as Colin moved it out of her way. – “I can’t!” – repeated he himself, leaning in closer to her. His eyes wandered off to you. Daphne lifted her shoulders a bit up, following his gaze.

“Then I shall go on my own!” – decided she, taking the back of her cloak as she spun around. Colin gritted his teeth, going after her. You straightened your back at bit, seeing them run out of the parlor, leaving you alone. – “I cannot leave her alone!” – bit Colin at her, agitated that Daphne would even suggest such a thing. She stopped at the door, turning towards him. – “Then stay here, but simply tell me where they are.” – insisted Daphne, not wanting to waste another minute. Colin inhaled sharply. – “I cannot leave you unescorted!” – called he out. – “And I cannot leave Y/n unattended!”

Such a conflict he found himself in. The duty of a brother slowly weighing on his shoulders. A weight he had not yet felt so heavy of a burden. It was his duty to escort Daphne. Yet it was also his duty to attend to you since they were the only one’s present at the house. – “Make your choice!” – Daphne pulled the hood from her cloak over her head, heading out of the door. Colin groaned in frustration, balding his hands. What must he do. If mother ever knew of this, he would hang.

“Y/n!” – called he out loud from the hallway. You got up, walking out of the parlor. – “Yes, brother.” – said you, still holding the door as Colin motioned for you to come over quickly. You ran up to him while he snapped his finger at the doorman. – “My sisters cloak!” – insisted he. The doorman bowed, parting from his position to go and fetch your cloak. – “Where are we going?” – asked you curiously. Colin knelt down on one knee before you, sighing deep. – “You cannot tell anyone of this.” – breathed he out. Your cloak arrived as Colin moved it around your shoulders.

He tied the cloak for you, moving the hood over your head. – “Is this like a little secret?” – questioned. Colin stopped what he was doing, smiling at you for a moment. – “Yes.” – whispered he out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. – “Now we must make haste!” – He got up to his feet, taking your hand. You tried to catch up with his firm footsteps as it felt like you were running and he simply walking. Outside sat Daphne already on her horse, huffing in surprise. Colin his horse was brought to him. – “Don’t even speak about it!” – said he to Daphne, helping you up in the saddle.

You moved a bit closer to the horses head. Colin hoisted himself up, coming to sit behind you. He took the reins in his hand. You panicked a bit when the horses head went up. – “Colin…” – said you in sheer panic. Colin signaled the horse to move, giving it a kick with a loud command. The horse got in motion, practically moving from standing still to running in a minor of seconds. You closed your eyes as this was the first time you rode a big horse. You were used to practicing on pony’s that went slow, not a tall horse that went fully rogue.

Daphne’s horse was running just behind you, trying to catch up. She caught up, riding beside the two of you. – “We better be there in time!” – shouted she out. – “In time for what?” – shrieked you out, panic written all over your face. – “You should’ve talked him out of it!” – It was clear Daphne was not released of all her anger yet. – “Talking him out of it?” – yelled Colin back. His horse thumping on the stones as they made way for the fields. – “You do know we are talking about Anthony!” – reminded he her. With little to hold, inhaled you sharply and tense. Colin had his hands on the reins, no where near you. Of course were his arms in a way around you, but not fully.

“You could’ve tried!” – answered Daphne brutally. You yelped soft when you felt like your entire body was bouncing around. – “The hairs Y/n!” – called Colin out to you. You froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. – “Take the hairs Y/n!” – shouted he louder, sending a rush of panic over you. You hastily grabbed a hold of the horses hairs for grip, not knowing if it would hurt the poor animal. – “Don’t shout at her!” – shouted Daphne, redirecting her anger to Colin’s manners. Colin sighed loud, granting his sister with a glare. Every time the horses hoofs touched the ground, got you more anxious.

You wanted off. This was getting to much of a thrill for you. They ran up to a woodsier part of the fields to reach their destination. Daphne bowed her head, avoiding some twigs from slapping into her face. – “Where is it!” – breathed Daphne out. – “Just up ahead!” – pointed Colin out. – “That will take us forever!” – screamed she out. Daphne thought for a moment, remembering something. – “I know a short-cut!” – exclaimed she, signaling her horse to go left. – “Wait!” – Colin clenched his jaw, going in pursuit. Daphne galloped to a large hedge, splitting land into two. Colin made his way over to it as well.

You saw the hedge, seeing Daphne jump over it with her horse. – “No…” – mumbled you out. – “No, no, no.” – your voice getting a bit louder each time. Going in full panic mode, didn’t want you to jump. You had never jumped with a horse. Certainly not a tall one as this one. – “No!” – called you out loud, protesting. Colin got startled, unable to see your facial expression. – “It will be alright Y/n.” – reassured he you. You shook your head, leaning back against his chest. – “I want off. I want off!” – shouted you, trying all to make him stop. – “Y/n, I…” – responded Colin, approaching the hedge.

You screamed loud, not wanting to go but you had no choice. Colin squeezed his arms closer to your body so that he could give you some sort of protection when the horse flew over the hedge. It landed on the other edge as you were full on crying. Colin signaled the horse to go faster, wanting to catch up with Daphne. – “Y/n I’m sorry.” – said he, hearing you cry. – “I truly am.” – In the distance saw he already Anthony and Simon, back-to-back. Benedict stood by a tree, keeping a close eye on Anthony. Daphne was guiding her horse towards them. Colin took a detour, coming closer by a different direction. He needed to get you out of sight before Anthony and Benedict would see you. Or he for sure was a dead man walking.

By a large tree, not far from them came Colin to a sudden stop. He jumped off, taking a hold of you, helping you off. Once your feet were on the ground, pushed you Colin off you. You wanted nothing to do with him for a while. Crying loud, walked you up to the tree. Colin going after you. – “Y/n I…” – started he, seeing your face was all wet from crying. You leaned against the tree, Colin coming to kneel before you quickly. – “Y/n I need you to do something for me.” – breathed he out, looking past the tree to where Daphne was. She was almost up to them if he didn’t make haste.

He moved his hand to your shoulder as you pushed it off. It pained him to see you so frightened like this. He never meant to scare his little sister like this. – “Stay here and out of sight! Please!” – begged Colin. He nodded, telling himself all will be well. Getting up, started he running. Anthony and Simon were ready to draw their pistols, pointing them at each other. Daphne interfered with her horse, startling the poor men. A gun shot was fired. You gasped, feeling as if you had skipped a few beats of your heart. Followed by loud neighing and shouts. A part of you wanted to look, but another part of you didn’t. Letting yourself slide down the bark, plugged you, your fingers in your ears to block the loud voices out.

Colin’s heart dropped, seeing Daphne lay in the grass. Anthony, Simon, and Benedict at her side quickly. – “Sister!” – called Anthony out at the same time Simon called out her name. Simon wanted to touch her, feel that she was alright when Anthony held him at a distance. – “Are you hurt sister?” – asked Anthony, fearing she might’ve been shot. Daphne got up, removing the hood from over her head. – “I am perfectly well, not thanks to you!” – spitted she out furious, getting up to her feet. – “What were you thinking? Running into a crossfire like that!” – shouted Anthony back. Colin slowly approached, nodding at Benedict as a reassurance that their sister was save.

“What were you thinking!” – fired Daphne right back at him. – “You men and your duels!” – scoffed she out. Daphne brushed some dirt off her cloak, turning around as she came face to face with Colin. She widened her eyes at the absence of you. Colin noticed the burning question on her lips, slowly shaking his head. He didn’t want her to ask about your well-being right here in the open. Daphne kept staring at him, tilting her head a bit to the side with a clear hint of her eyes. It made Colin widen his eyes as he had not thought of it.

How was he ever going to return home with you unnoticed. Everyone would head home together, so it was impossible for him to go unnoticed with you. Closing his eyes, cursed he at himself for not thinking this through. – “Well I suppose we all need a drink to forget about these events.” – pitched Benedict in. – “Agreed!” – bit Anthony, glaring at Simon. – “But you will marry my sister!” – insisted he. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not after witnessing the kiss between them in the gardens. Simon had to marry her, no matter how many times he insisted on not to. Everyone started to make their way over to their horses.

Daphne let Colin know to make haste decisions. – “Are you not coming brother?” – questioned Benedict, standing close to his horse. – “I…I…continue without me…” – said he, raising some questions to his brothers. – “I wish to see more of the view.” – Anthony laughed loud, ridiculing him. – “Don’t be absurd! Fetch your horse, Colin!” - Colin swallowed nervously, looking over his shoulder to where he left his horse and you. – “No…I…I really must insist.” – said he, hoping to persuade his brothers. Benedict quirked his eyebrow up, feeling as if something was off. – “Fetch your horse or I will!” – called Anthony out, pointing firmly at his horse in the distance. Colin exhaled deep, turning around.

Daphne slowly shook her head when he walked past. There was nothing for him to do but to go and fetch his horse. He could get on his horse, telling you he would come later for you? No that is out of the question thought Colin. He would never forgive himself for leaving you behind. Perhaps if he rode as last, no one would notice? Let you sit behind him so that his body would block out your posture. But how would that work at home when you descend? Perhaps there was nothing else to do but to face the consequence of his actions. In his mind acted Colin in the best way, pleasing both his sisters with what they needed.

You to be attended and Daphne to be escorted. If this was his walk towards death, he would take no other path. Colin arrived at the tree, disappearing behind it. Benedict frowned, giving his horse to Anthony as he followed. – “Y/n?” – whispered Colin. You wiped your cheeks dry, looking up to him. – “Can we go home?” – asked you, seeing him nod. He extended his hand to you as you took it. He left you by the tree, fetching his horse. As the tall creature approached you, gasped you loud, staggering back. Still frightened by it. – “It’s alright Y/n, I promise to take it slow this time.” – reassured he you.

“Y/n?!” – called Benedict out in surprise. His look of shock turned to anger when looking at Colin. – “You brought her here!” – yelled he out, lashing out to Colin. Colin stumbled back when his brother waved with his fist around. – “You wish to tell me you brought our sister to a duel!” – The others had heard the commotion, coming over as well. – “What is the meaning of this!” – Anthony widened his eyes as well at the sight of you. Gritting his teeth, felt he himself boil with anger. – “Explain!” – hissed Anthony at Colin. – “I…I…I had no choice! I had to escort Daphne but… I couldn’t leave Y/n on her own at the house.” – explained Colin.

“So you decided to bring her to a gun fight?” – yelled Benedict out, ready to wave his fist around again. – “I wouldn’t have brought her here if you didn’t start a duel in the first place!” – lashed Colin out, getting a bit tired that everyone was pointing fingers at them. Anthony was trembling with rage, ready to fight him. – “Stop!” – screamed you out loud, getting everyone attention. – “I want to go home!” – insisted you, stomping with your feet on the ground. Benedict noticed the glossy reflection in your eyes, hinting that you had been crying. He came kneeling before you, wiping your cheeks dry from the wet stains still visible. – “I want to go home…” – sobbed you out. Benedict nodded, wrapping his arms around you.

Anthony sighed deep, calming himself. – “Come along Y/n.” – said Colin holding his hand out to you. You gasped, leaning closer to Benedict at the sight of his horse. You didn’t wish to sit upon that animal any time soon. You shook your head, clamping onto Benedict for comfort. – “I am sorry.” – confessed Colin again, falling onto his knees. – “I never meant to scare you Y/n, I truly did not.” – you let go of Benedict, walking over to Colin. You hugged him, feeling him move his arms tightly around you. As if he was afraid, you would slip out of his grip if he loosened up for an inch. – “Forgive me sister…” – he moved some hair aside, kissing your cheek. You moved back, wiping your eye with your sleeve.

Anthony was glaring at Colin, demanding to have an explanation of your tears. – “I frightened her… with the horse.” – said he out loud. – “I brought upon her a fear of riding horses.” – Colin looked ashamed at the ground. Daphne came to his side, moving her hands to his shoulder. – “It will take time, but she might grow out of it.” – whispered Daphne to him. – “You are not to blame.” – Colin smiled faintly at her, giving her hand on his shoulder a soft squeeze. Anthony walked up to you, kissing the top of your head to sooth you.

“Will you ride with me?” – asked Benedict. – “I promise to go gently.” – reassured he you, offering you, his hand. You slowly nodded, walking up to him. He helped you on his horse, hoisting himself up behind you. You breathed out in shivers, sitting on top a grand animal again. Benedict moved one hand around your stomach, holding the reins in his other hand. – “We’ll go slowly.” – He gave the horse a gentle kick, setting it in motion. Your muscles pulled together from fright when the animal moved.

The horse walked slowly, almost parading. The others got on their horses as well. – “You do not need to wait for us.” – called he out to Anthony. Benedict looked down at you, smiling. You looked up to him, giving him a faint smile. – “We have all the time.” – whispered he out. Anthony nodded, signaling his horse to go faster. Daphne and Colin followed. Simon went his own way. Benedict and you rode on your own pace. He didn’t want your fear of horses to grow. You would make it back home, eventually. It just took a little longer.

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@frost-queen

Thu, 14 Apr 2022 21:05:40

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic,@theletterhart,@alex–awesome–22,@elllie-does-the-posts,@floatlosers,@merlieve,@queen-of-books,@glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown,@automaticbakeryfreakshoe,@meyocoko,@bubblybrianna,@october-leaves,Post tag:@memberofalthefunfandoms,@lonely-witch,@northern-typist,@mostly-meg,@lofious,@acollectionofmymadness,@flowercrowns-goodvibes,@benedictbridgertonss,@busy-bee-angel-misska,@kazbekkarluvbot, @erikaar, @magical-spit,@deansapplepie,@bethii1,@freyathehuntress

Read part 1 here,part 2here!,part 3here!,part 4here! (This is the last chapter)
Summary: When a proposal has been offered, will you accept or forever keep your doubts? Can love truly conquer all?

“Marry me.”

You stumbled a bit backwards, letting your hand slide out of his. His request floating around your mind in little fragments. Fragments that had not yet been pieced together. Shivering out a breath, moved you, your hand towards your chest. How could he so easily decide the future when you were still yet uncertain about the present. The damage that has been done was not something to take lightly. Being personally cast out by the queen herself had consequents. If this meant you were out of the season for the rest of your live, you could never accept his hand in marriage. You wouldn’t wish a life of cruelty upon him.

Not on the man you love. Not even for a snippet of happiness. – “I…I…” – stuttered you out, afraid to look him in the eye. Benedict kept looking hopeful at you, keeping his warm smile up. He was starstruck for even seeing the possible dangers ahead. – “I…I…” – your gaze went up towards your father. He was smiling, perhaps a pure smile you had barely seen. Not a hint of miscommunication in it, simple but pure honesty. For the first times in forever had he been happy, content with you. You didn’t want to take that from him.

Then you adverted your gaze to Benedict’s brothers. Against all odds were they standing right here. By your side. Taking your side. No one had done that ever. It was unfair to them for what you had in mind. Your mind was chaos, every horrifying end tormenting you. How could you accept despite it all. This wasn’t a simple answer of yes or no, this was more than that. Reputations were at stake, reputations you didn’t want to shatter. You never did. If accepting meant dragging Benedict and his family alongside with you, you preferred to suffer alone. As you always have, for alone is all one person can have. Alone protects you.

It protects those you love, leaving the suffering to you. Taking away their pain as you had endured so much pain it became bearable. You started to slightly shake your head, pressing your lips together, feeling the tears emerge. – “I…I can’t.” – whispered you out, taking another step back. Benedict exhaled shocked, his knees going wobbly as he felt himself being dragged under. Colin ran up to his brother, holding him up by the shoulder. – “I’ve got you brother.” – said he, making sure Benedict stand up straight. – “I am sorry…” – sobbed you out, allowing some tears to roll down your cheek.

Your father ran up to you, shocked by your revelation. – “Y/n, my darling.” – called he out, staring baffled at you. Benedict found a bit of his strength back, patting Colin on his chest that he was alright. Colin carefully let go of his brother, keeping a close eye on him. – “Why?” – asked Benedict, taking a step closer to you. You sniffed loud, turning slightly towards him again. – “Why? You know why?” - told you him, your lip trembling from the sudden strong emotions. Benedict shook his head with a bite of his lip. – “Not good enough.” – answered he, shrugging his shoulders a bit. You exhaled sharp, taken by his determination.

Why was he so stubborn. – “Why, Y/n?” – he asked again, pounding his fist down in the air. You shook your head, not wanting to have this conversation by the palace. You turned around, walking away from him with your father by your side. Benedict wasn’t ready to let you off so easily. He knew his love was not one-sided. He had seen the emotions inside of you. He had seen the longing, the desire. He had seen it because he saw it within himself. He hated that despite it all you were still trying to protect him. Even when he told you numerous times not to. All he ever wanted was to love you, be by your side and support you no matter what.

“In sickness and in health, is that not a requirement?” – shouted he at you, ready to defend himself. – “I know you are afraid Y/n, I am too, but that doesn’t give away the fact that I…I…” – Benedict felt his hands tremble as he came to a stop. He felt like his emotions were steering him. He felt all control over himself slip away. The fight lust inside of him so grand, it made him go towards every length to keep you close. – “Benedict please…” – said you, wiping some tears away.

“How many more times must I proclaim myself? You are all that matters to me, nothing more. I want you, I … I love you.” – confessed he, making you abruptly stop. – “I love you with all my heart and it pains me… it pains me to see that you are not willing to give it a chance, us a chance.” – Benedict started to slowly approach you as you had stopped moving. His words casting a spell on you that kept you in place. – “I beg of you…” – you breathed in shivers, feeling his hands slide up the back of your arms. His sudden touch captivating you. – “I have lost myself in you.” – whispered he out, breathing against your neck.

You turned around sharply with tears in your eyes. – “I’m scared…” – exclaimed you. – “I am afraid that I might be the cause of all your pain. I do not wish that upon you. I love you… and the fact that I love you is why I must protect you.” – cried you out. Benedict moved his trembling hand towards your cheek, letting it rest there. – “I’m scared that all has been for nothing. That I can’t be the loving wife you require, that I cannot give you what you desire, that I cast my shadow upon you. I have seen it.” – you gave Benedict a slight push against his chest.

“I have seen what my condition does to people.” – you moved your head slightly to the side, seeing your father stare shameful at the ground. He knew you were speaking of him. Of all the deeds he had done towards you. – “I have seen it change them. Change them so much they are afraid to look at me. Benedict, I don’t want you to stop looking at me.” – tears were streaming ruthlessly down your cheek, clouding your vision. Benedict curled up a tiny smile. – “I shall never.” – whispered he to you. – “You don’t know that…” – answered you back. Benedict inhaled deeply, looking up to the blank night sky for a moment.

“I am telling you… right here that I love you Y/n. All of you.” – spoke he out, gazing back at you. With his palm against your cheek, wiped he some tears away. – “Don’t be afraid my love… It is time to let go of your fears…” – you shuddered, closing your eyes for a moment. – “Do not let society decide for you, do not let it lead your life. For I shall stand by your side no matter what. If the queen forbids you from the season, let her be… for I have already found who I wish to marry.” – slowly opening your eyes again, stared you in his hopeful eyes.

You loved his sense of hope when you could not. – “Y/n, I ask you again… will you accept my hand in marriage for I will love you entirely.” – He rose your hand up, holding it gently in his hand. Everyone was waiting in anticipation for you to speak. Benedict inhaling deeply as his chest rose with the tension building up inside of him. You could not deny your doubts and fears, but perhaps you simply had to take that leap. For how else were you going to discover what laid at the bottom of the cliff. For love is scary, allowing oneself to fully let go to experience it’s deepness. Love was a burning flame, bursting with light with one single touch.

You curled up a smile, slowly nodding. – “With all my heart.” – whispered you out, finally letting go of your fears. A smile spread across his lips, unable to contain himself. Benedict moved his hands around your back, lifting your body a bit up. Inhaling sharply, pressed he his lips against yours. That simple touch that made you reborn. Become a whole new person. Moving your hands to his jawline, tilted you your head to kiss him from a different angle. Love was indeed a burning flame that you felt inside of you. Why did you ever doubt him. It finally was clear to you that he loved you, all of you. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore for you had each other. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, for love has found its way to you. Granting you with the upmost caring gentleman one could ever give. Benedict Bridgerton, your artist, your protector, your friend, your husband.

Anthony cleared his throat, breaking Benedict, and you apart. – “How this is all very warmly, I do have to remind you that we are in public.” – informed Anthony with a shy smile on his face. Benedict and you took a step apart from each other. Gazing with deep affection to one another. – “Y/n darling, we must get home… I do not wish to be handled like that again.” – your father was right. It was wrong to stand here as she had casted you out so easily. – “We must head back inside for our dearest sister and mother.” – pointed Colin out, looking a bit over his shoulder. Benedict took your hand, leaving a caring kiss on top of it. Smiling at him, watched you him step back, letting your hand slowly slip out of his till it hung beside your body again.

Father took you by the arm, leading you towards the carriage. The two of you got inside as you sat by your fathers side. He threw his arm around you as you came laying against his chest. – “I hope you can forgive me… I cannot give any excuses for my behavior, and I will not for I have committed a crime. I do hope you can forgive your dear old papa for his blind eye.” – he threw his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer to him. – “From now on, I shall always be there for you. In sickness and in health, for I do not wish to lose you.” – He turned his head, kissing the top of your head.

A sudden crack of wood made you fly up in the carriage. Landing firmly back onto the seats as one part of the carriage had been send down. – “Father what is going on?” – called you out anxiously as the carriage came to a sudden stop. He held his finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. Outside heard you loud voices. Father looked frightened at you, his face turning pale. – “Whatever you hear… stay here!” – demanded he, gripping tight onto your hand. – “Father!” – whispered you out in panic, seeing him take his leave. You moved over to the door, keeping your head out of sight.

You tried to listen in to the sudden voices as it sounded that they were with many. – “Good sirs…” – heard you, your father say with his hands up. You gasped in shock, covering up your mouth when you witness your father being punched in the stomach. He stumbled to the ground in pain. You wanted to jump out of the carriage and assist your father in any way. You heard loud laughter, seeing him get kicked in the stomach while he was crawling in pain on the ground. Your hands were trembling with fear. If your father was unable to defend you, what might they do to you once they find you.

A reflection of light marched into the dark as it made you widen your eyes. Torches. They were carrying torches and they were marching… marching up to the carriage. Your father knew what they were going to do as well, grabbing a hold of one’s ankle. – “Stop! My daughter is in there… please…” – begged he out, receiving another kick. He groaned in out in pain, rolling over to the side. A man held his hand out, demanding to be given a torch. – “No… please… stop…” – called your father out in pain, feeling every bone in his body hurt. – “You shouldn’t have brought her to the palace.” – said the man holding the torch, leaning down to your fathers face.

“No… I beg of you… my daughter is innocent.” – pleaded your father with them, trying to get back up to his feet. – “We’ve all heard the rumors!” – shouted he loud, roaring up his crowd. – “Your daughter is a stain to our society, and we don’t want her kind here!” – his men cheered loud as he threw his hand up. – “No!” – father screamed in pain, locking eyes with you in the carriage. You were terrified, unable to move as you heard them approach. They started banging on the carriage to scare you. You were being shaken around, crying in terror. – “Get… away… from my daughter!” – called your father out between clenched teeth, pushing himself to get up.

With his hand against his stomach, limped he over. Desperate to protect you till his very last breath. – “Father!” – cried you out, wanting to get out but someone was holding the door firmly. Father groaned loud, waving his fist around. He received a blow against his nose, sending him down. – “No!” – screamed you out, trying to get out of the carriage. They just walked over him like he was nothing. – “Let me out!” – yelled you out, wiping your tears aggressively away. You saw the burning torch come closer, hearing the crackling sounds from crisping wood. Screaming in agony, were you jamming hard against the door that would not budge.

“We have endured you long enough!” – shouted one of the men at you. Feeling the last bit of strength slip away, felt you lost. How could this be the end when it hasn’t even begun yet. You were going to marry the man you love. Grow old with him and share so many adventures. The torch was so close to the carriage now that it only took a good connection for the carriage to catch fire. You gasped, hearing horses neigh loud. At least three you could distinguish. You heard someone jump off the horse as their feet landed with a thud on the gravely road. Punches were being handed out. Hearing grunts of pain and anger.

You dared to pop your head out of the window, widening your eyes at your rescuers. – “Benedict!” – screamed you out loud. It caught him off guard for a moment, getting punched in the face. Feeling a bit wonky, collapsed Benedict almost to the ground. All men had moved away from the carriage, fighting against one of the Bridgerton brothers. It suddenly started to feel warm in the carriage as you spotted that the torch had been dropped. Laying against the broken wooden wheel, catching fire. You called it out, kicking your feet against the doorframe as it wouldn’t budge. – “Dear God!” – breathed Anthony out, seeing the carriage catch fire.

“Colin!” – shouted he out, punching a guy in the face. His boxing skills coming in handy after all. Colin nodded, pushing a man’s grip off him. He than ran over to the carriage, trying to pull the door open. He was kicking against it, pulling at it, anything for it to move. The carriage started to fill up with smoke as the ceiling started to catch fire as well. – “Colin!” – called you out, keeping yourself as low as possible. – “Come on!” – grunted Colin out, wanting the door to work with him. Benedict saw his brother struggling as well as the burning carriage. He fought off the handy man that he couldn’t shake off. With a bloody forehead, jumped he over some unconscious fallen men, aiding his brother.

“Y/n! it’s going to be alright love.” – reassured he you, pulling at the handle. – “It won’t work!” – answered Colin hastily. Benedict clenched his jaw, not ready to lose you. You were crying, laying with your head on the seat to stay as low as possible. Benedict moved his hand to the window frame, trying to see if you could fit through. – “I’m going to pull you out, my love, I promise you.” – called he out desperately, trying to break the framework of the window. It cracked since it had been weakened by the warmness of the flames. Benedict reached his arms into the carriage as you got up. You felt the intense heat above you, sticking your hands out. Benedict moved his arms tightly around you, lifting you up as he tried to pull you out through the open window.

Colin helped pulling, pushing your body a bit up so that it could tip you over. You popped free, falling onto Benedict as he fell to the ground. From intense happiness, cried you in his arms. Telling him how much you loved him and how scared you were. Colin helped the two of you up to your feet, moving away from the burning carriage. Anthony had fought off the last man as many others had taken a run for it. He was now helping your father up to his feet. – “Your… your bleeding.” – called you out, touching his forehead briefly. It stinged but he tried to not let you see it. – “It’s nothing.” – reassured he you, taking your hand in his.

“How… how is it that you are here?” – questioned you, laying in Benedicts arms on the grass. Your head resting against his chest while he cherished you in his embrace. – “We heard them talk about their plans.” – replied Anthony out of breath. You snuggled closer to Benedict, seeking comfort. You didn’t want to say it, but it frightened you how you were still not out of the clear. It was never simple with the two of you. Always an obstacle in the way that would prevent you from loving. A cruel society, one more turning their back on you. Benedict noticed the doubts reflecting in your eyes as he tilted your chin up to him. – “Don’t go refusing me again, Y/n. My heart can’t take it.” – chuckled he out. – “I won’t… not this time.” – responded you, looking deep into his eyes. – “I am not afraid anymore.”

Eloise clamped onto her brother with a smile on her face. Trees of blossom were spreading their petals through the wind. It was a happy day for everyone as two would be reunited into one. Benedict and you were ready to say your vows. To no longer be two, but one. For one cannot stand without the other. With pride in his eyes, gazed Benedict upon your arrival. You were dressed in all white, holding onto your father’s arm. He was being supported by a cane as his body had not healed up properly yet from the incident.

He guided you towards your intended. Eloise let go of her brother as Benedict extended his hand out to you. You let yours slip into his, walking up to him. – “Are you ready my love?“ - whispered he to you. – “You can always turn back now before you are bound to me.” – chuckled you out. – “Not a chance.” – responded he, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. Taking his arm, allowed you him to guide you inside. It was a small ceremony, just those close to you present. You sealed you vows with a kiss as loud cheering filled the church.

Outside hugged you everyone before your departure with your newly wedded husband. Never in a million years did you think you would call one husband. You thought no one would love you with what you carried, but one did. And one phenomenal one indeed. You couldn’t have wished for a better person to love. You finally found yourself worthy of being loved. Gregory bowed before you with a saddened face. – “Aw Gregory.” – said you, kneeling down to him.

He threw your arms around your neck, moving your arms around him. – “I’ll miss you.” – whispered he into your ear. You moved his head back, wiping a tear of his cheek. – “I’ll miss you too dear Gregory, but I promise to invite you soon as you…” – you touched his nose with your finger brief. – “don’t forget to invite me to tea as many times as you like.” – That made him laugh between his tears. You pulled yourself back up, taking Benedicts hand. You waved everyone goodbye one last time before heading off.

The wood in the fireplace was crackling delightful. You stood before it, warming your hands up to it. Benedict approached you from behind, letting his fingers go up your arm. His face buried in the crook of your neck. There he planted a kiss. A soft kiss that made you smile. His hands slowly lowered towards your waist, leaving another kiss in your neck. He pushed some fabric aside over your shoulder to kiss it as well. You melted at his touch that send shivers up your spine. – “My dear wife.” – breathed he out, kissing your bare shoulder again.

You turned around, laying your arms around his neck. – “My dear husband.” – replied you, staring dreamingly at him. He brought his lips down towards yours, whilst holding onto you firmly. He started guiding you away from the fireplace, his lips forever on yours. Kissing him with such longing, it made your heart beat out of your chest. You could feel the pounding of his heart against yours, beating for one another. Standing close by the bed, guided he his hands up. He unbuttoned you, dropping your dress to the floor. His hands then started to fumble the ribbon of your corset. You guided your hands down to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.

With one smooth pull, untied he the knot at the top of your corset. You giggled against his lips at how eager he was. Benedict kept kissing you whilst trying to tear the corset off you. It slipped off as he let it drop to the ground. You carefully stepped out of it, standing only in your undergarments. Benedict’s hand laid against your back, feeling your warm skin underneath his palm. For the first time, felt he truly close to you. Feeling every bit of your core. You stopped kissing him for a moment, holding him as he guided his lips to your neck. He kept kissing you uncontrollably as your body warmed up by his touch.

You gasped quietly at the sudden sense. It felt unsettling as you questioned it at first if it was real. Benedict stopped kissing you, placing his hand against your cheek. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – questioned he, sensing something was off. You fluttered with your eyelashes, winching at the sting of pain coming from inside of you. You bend down, gripping onto his shirt as you held your stomach. It was happening again. One of your episodes at the worst timing. A sting of pain went through your entire body, making you collapse through your knees. Benedict gasped, preventing you from falling.

You pushed him away, falling onto the ground. He stared at you in shock, hoping you wouldn’t turn him away again. You crawled back against a closet, coughing loud. Your entire body shivering from the intense pain as Benedict witnessed your condition firsthand. You kept coughing loud, unable to stop as you let your fingers slide down your throat. Wheezing were you grasping for breath. It was like your lungs were on hold, not working for a moment as you felt like suffocating. Benedict rushed to your side, kneeling beside you. – “Breath Y/n, breath!” – called he out in a state of panic.

Your head laid back, grasping for air. You witnessed the concern in his eyes, slowly cracking him. Then gasped you loud, screaming in tears. You let your head fall forwards against Benedict’s arm, crying loud. – “Please….” – begged you him. A part of you still wanted to seclude this from him. Shield him from the pain inside of you. Your body twitched, coughing loud in your hand. Benedict was in slight shock, not knowing what to do. It was clear that he was no match for your illness. – “Please…” – begged you again, wanting him to turn a blind eye. Benedict shook his head firmly, inhaling deeply.

“I promised to love you in sickness and in health.” – replied he, letting his palm go upwards your cheek. – “What must I do?” – whispered he to you. You pointed lifelessly at the bed, unable to control your tears. Benedict carefully picked you up from the ground, leading you over to the bed. He laid you down, staring bewildered at you. You took his hand, pulling it down. You wanted him to lay beside you. So he did, laying himself carefully beside you. You rolled over to your side, pulling his hand over your body. Benedict understood what you meant, crawling closer against your body. He slid his arm underneath your body so that he could fully hold you close.

You cried in terror, wishing for the pain to go away. The pain that made every muscle in your body sting. Benedict kept his body firmly against yours, burying his face in your hair, closing his eyes. He felt the shocks your body made against his, making him grip onto you firmer. Fearing that if he faltered, you might slip away from him. – “I love you Y/n.” – said he, kissing the back of your shoulder. He wanted you to know you are so loved, even in a state like this. He thought he would be scared and at first, he was. Laying here with you, gave him the strength to carry on. He understood that you needed him, that he needed to be the better man. If this was what a life spending with you meant. Then he would gladly spend it like this. In time he would learn to pick up any of your signals better to ease your way through it.

“I am sorry…” – said you between coughs. – “What for?” – asked he, lifting his head a bit up. – “For ruining our wedding night…” – Benedict kissed your neck gently. – “Our night is not ruined my love. I say it brought me closer to you in any way possible.” – you cracked up a tiny smile, finding some joy between your pain. – “Besides I shall have from now on every night with you. You might find me annoying one day when you wish not to sleep so tightly in my embrace.” – chuckled he out. You rolled a bit over to your back, looking up to him. – “I could never…” – whispered you to him. Benedict lowered his head, kissing your forehead as you felt so weak. – “I’ll watch over you…” – said he, making you exhale deep. You rolled back to the side, clamping onto his arms around you. Like a cocoon were you held safe in his embrace. Where nothing bad could ever touch you.

—————————————————–

off to the races // benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: the royal ascot races take a turn when Benedict pulls you under the grandstand and let’s his artistic hands wander.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Bridgerton)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings:smut. minors DNI.

Quick Links: Masterlist

It was hot––unseasonably so.

The grass that surrounded the royal ascot fields was sweltering. The bits of water that had yet to dry up in the heat trickled down each blade slowly; creeping down its green stem toward the brown earth to be swallowed and drank. And welcome it was. The earth drank it greedily—an attribute the sprinted summers London had been experiencing as of late.

You fanned yourself rapidly at the fact.

Conversations that excited the ton filled the air. Debutantes and seasoned women whispering about the newly minted diamond, the drama of their neighbors but certainly not their own households. Mamas held their daughter’s arms tightly, smiling boldly at each suitor as if screaming “the wealth is in our pocket, no one else’s.” However, at some point, wealth was only so important. It’s the attraction–as the water to the grass–that influences the longevity of a match; the lust and love that grows when two people combine their beings like magnets unable to separate.

Any woman would fan themselves at the prospect. If only every season guaranteed a match so worthy of passion–scandal would surely ensue even if the mind pursued impure thoughts.

Lifting a hand to your eyes, you shielded them from the sun as it beat down on you. The fan doing little to relieve the heat, the looks on other guests’ faces was a testament to that. Women with rosy cheeks, men adjusting their kerchief’s wound tightly against their necks; the smallest beads of sweat building their brows with a sheen only seen during these trivial seasons of matchmaking. From the Featherington’s to Sharma’s–the latter of which was taking the London weather swimmingly–each family unit gathered on the fields of the royal ascot races to find their purpose but you, you already knew yours.

Time, however, was not always on your side.

Fourth season, fourth. Your reputation was beginning to take a hit and the time spent ignoring men’s advances was beginning to cause more harm than good. No one wanted a tease anymore; they wanted a wife to secure them a lifetime of riches and when each offer was turned away, fewer callers arrived at your door and the sofas had settled with dust.

And finally, Anthony Bridgerton, after years of declining to find a wife, decided that he would join the social season to do such.

While the eyes lingered on Anthony–the famed Viscount who defined the term “rake,” the other Bridgerton brothers were left to celebrate their final years of freedom before marriage and commitment came to them. But unlike Anthony, you knew one brother had already declared his intentions. The right moment, nonetheless, had to wait after the Viscount found his Viscountess.

The Bridgerton family arrived at the crux between the high noon sun and the serving of the furtive snack–refreshing cucumber sandwiches, fruits, and most certainly champagne to flow. Debutantes fawned; sticking their gaze onto Anthony Bridgerton as if he were meat for the picking while he searched for the diamond Lady Whistledown had informed the ton he was willing to wed. In his stead, Violet Bridgerton held the arm of Colin, while Eloise and Benedict followed in tow.

The dew from the grass reminded you of Benedict–the sweet drink, forbidden fruit so delectable that even the most parched would not have enough after one sip. His top hat high, the light blue waistcoat, and mustard kerchief that made each inch of him mysterious yet welcoming; delighting the slightest waver in your heart as it ached for a touch. You thought, for a moment, to leave the group of women you had been in conversation with for a brief time before fate appeared before you.

Eloise Bridgerton, clad in her signature blue bloused gown and beige fascinator, met your eye and the spark in her step set the events of the early afternoon in motion. She gathered her skirts, motioning for you to take her arm for a stroll as she swept you away.

“I believe I have cracked Whistledown’s place of publishing.” She spoke low, but excitedly in a giddy manner. You had given audience to her scheming during Daphne’s season–Eloise not ready to enter society yet and found herself in a bind with the Queen. Knowing she could trust few, she took a liking to her brother’s oldest friend as a secret keeper. Although you were less than enthusiastic about discussing the possibility of the one who may be Whistledown’s physical form, the additional visits to and from the Bridgerton’s were enough to continue.

“Ah, surely you could tell from the paper quality, right?” You joked, not truly realizing the accuracy of the statement. Eloise’s eyes went wide.

“Yes! That is exactly so! Have you noticed as well?”

“No… I was only joking… surely paper is the same everywhere.” You laughed, patting Eloise’s arm as it was looped within your own.

“But it is not, you see?” The young Bridgerton took a pamphlet from her purse and handed it to you, telling you to feel the paper quality between your gloved fingers. You rolled your eyes but complied.

“It is just paper, Eloise. Is there not more pressing matters at the moment?” You stopped walking, turning to face her with your back toward the racetrack. “Tis the third week of the season and Whistledown has barely dipped their toe in the waters once more. Should we not enjoy the spectacle before things become… complicated?”

Eloise held her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked at you. Her eyes were judgmental, calculating in a way only Eloise’s could be. But she knew you were not Whistledown. Part of her early assessments were ruling out members of the ton who were close to her family in various ways–knowing that Anthony and Benedict’s activities would be far more detailed if you had written about them. You had been their friend for far too long to lose it over silly gossip.

“Do you not wish to take part in this anymore? Finding Lady Whistledown?”

“No, El… Sorry–” You chuckled nervously, patting your forehead with your white-gloved fingers. “I just find my mind wandering elsewhere.”

“Heavens, has a caller finally piqued your interests? You’re surely blushing.”

“Tis the heat, Eloise.”

“I have seen this look before! Daphne, Miss Edwina! Whistledown has not written a word either! How did you evade her, tell me so!”

“Eloise,please.” You scoffed, fanning yourself a bit more aggressively and keeping clear of her beady eyes. They pierced, just as all of her sibling’s eyes did. “Not all of us are completely consumed by the thoughts of a jealous woman.”

“No, perhaps not. But you are consumed with something far worse I fear.”

She continued to gaze at you, trying to figure out how the events of the previous season may have changed things. You avoided her stare by watching the people around you–filing toward the grandstand and jovially enjoying the summer festivities without a worry about Whistledown, reputation, or want. Beyond the hordes of Lords and Ladies making their way to their seats, the Bridgerton brothers stood in a circle talking to Will and Alice Mondrich. Benedict was smiling brightly at the boxer, Anthony’s attention was diverted, and Colin stood listening intently before joining his elder brother in laughter of Will’s joke.

And then he looked.

Benedict Bridgerton broke from the conversation and let his own eyes assess the crowd before landing on his sister and you–the ardent piece of his puzzle called life that had been lacking. For four seasons, his gaze met yours with a promise. A silent notion that once Anthony marries his Viscountess, the season will be his and yours for the taking–running with hands intertwined finally able to publicly proclaim the passion that had ensued for years. Afterall, there was a reason you had denied every caller that came flocking to your home.

There was something about the look on your face that drew him away from Alice, Will, Anthony, and Colin. The way you dabbed your forehead with the tips of your gloves; a strained, uncertain smile in the presence of Eloise. The qualities of a conversation gone sour, and his stomach turned at the possiblities. He had not read the latest Whistledown and he knew of Eloise’s endeavor, but the writer knew the darkest secrets of every soul in the ton and there was an urgency to find out why you had pulled that face.

You were hot; waiting and anxious as the feelings of lust in the summer heat began to overtake your proper mind with thoughts of hands roaming and breathless whispers. Perhaps Benedict could sense it to–the need to be together when society said it was improper. You needn’t care what the ton spoke in their callous phrases. No other man would worship your body beside the painter who sculpted the belief that you were a sensual, exquisite beauty.

Your mouth turned into a frown when he began making an urgent haste toward the two of you. Inside, your stomach was doing the same summersaults as Benedict’s–for a much different reason, however. The sweltering heat and the thought of being beside Benedict in a moment where your mind had already lingered to that unsavory place was itching. Every step and every stride brought him closer, begging to be swept away to an intimate cove.

The intrusion broke Eloise’s hardened gaze.

“Brother! To what do we owe this unwelcome addition?” Eloise gave Benedict a closed-lip smile and jested as she always had. Benedict nodded at Eloise before ignoring her completely. It made your heart beat a little faster. And somehow, in Eloise’s mind, she did not make the connection.

“I could see you pestering Y/n, Eloise.” He scolded but never looked at her. His crooked smile fluttered the butterflies who you thought died during the heat. “And I could see that while you lead her mind to boredom, Penelope Featherington sits waiting in the wings for your attention.”

Eloise took a second to glance beyond your shoulder, seeing Penelope wait patiently beside the white grandstand curtains for her. Sighing, Eloise slapped her brother’s arm with a scrunched nose.

“I shall see that this conversation is not over, Miss L/n! The search only continues!” She set off for Penelope without another glance and left you and Benedict alone.

Hesitated he did not, Benedict offered his arm and a twinkle in his eye.

“Care to promenade, Miss L/n?” You gladly took his arm.

“I’d thought you’d never ask, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Between the white tents the attention of others was limited. Needn’t the care of the Bridgerton spare and a woman who was nearing spinster-territory with each denial. Every stride you continued to fan yourself, breathing in deeply as the cool wind met your sticky skin and the grip on Benedict’s arm grew tighter. The man said nothing, waiting for you to breech the silence with a sparkling eye and wicked smile–he knew, he did. The two of you had been playing this game for years and it was reaching the threshold of inescapable need that could only be met with stolen glances, grazed fingers, and a rendezvous scandalous enough to bring shame to both your names.

“The weather is quite scorching is it not?” You broke the silence with a simple question that begged a deeper meaning.

“Very. Though, the weather is not the most torrid topic of the afternoon.”

“Do tell, Mr. Bridgerton, I am intrigued.” Yes, to keep your mind away from finding that secret cavern of ambiguity–a spot to fulfill the desire. Benedict steered you clear of the crowd ahead, turning off the gravel path and beside the edges of the tents, not the fronts.

“That dress, Miss L/n. Indulge me here.” He continued to lead, responding with a crooked smile when your grip on his arm tightened and Benedict made his way toward the back of the grandstand.

“Do you enjoy tormenting me?”

“Surely, I do not know what you mean?”

“The red. You know the color suits you well and while we can discuss the color, it’s the stain on the hip that brings back more fond memories.”

“What do–” You let go of his arm, looking down at your dress and turning slightly. Blue, the color of the sky in early April, painted on the side with a thumb printed perfectly pointing downward. “Oh, heavens.”

“Do you remember how you got that?” Benedict stepped an inch closer, closing in as your head remained downward and observing the painted thumb print. Of course you remember–how could you not? It was the second time he had shown you his paintings in nothing but unbridled confidence in his work. It is what he should have been all along, confident in his work. Whether that be his devotion to his family or the pieces he paints, the passion he put into everything was spurring. It spurred the deepest respect from you and that was paid through the use of his beautiful artist hands.

“How could I forget?”

“Care to relive the memory?” He whispered lowly. His right hand fondling the very lightest of your dress’s fabric at the side–teasing. Every second he gathered more. Soon, scrunching enough to ball it into his hand, the heels and stockings on your feet beginning to see the light.

“I am not sure there are sturdy walls here, but I am certain there are wooden poles underneath these stands.” You titled your head upwards, gazing into his eyes with the twinkle he was waiting for. Benedict scoffed, looking over your shoulder, his shoulder, and then proceeded to lift the fabric that covered the stands and whisked you inside.

Without truly knowing where he was taking this, you found yourself flush against a wooden support with your back nearly digging into the painted wood with a thud. Benedict launched himself on you when the space was deemed clear of any possible intrusion and his lips were aching for more. The longing you felt on his fingers as they cupped your face, his lips nearly missing their target in a frenzied movement. The moment he centered himself is when he felt your hands on his chest, calming him as the passion he felt for you was exposed from its protected mask–here, under the grandstand of the Royal Ascot Races, Benedict Bridgerton could let go and be free and love you as you were meant to be loved.

Soft lips, breathing unsteady and rapid, he was panting far before you were. Benedict longed to be in your embrace and imagined he was the dew on the stalk of grass, ready to be drunk on you but at the same time, all he could imagine was how he could worship you. The boldness of your red dress, the memories of an evening well past yet, still, he recalled the declarations and touches, the plush skin begging to be relieved of its aches and lips so desperately to be claimed.

Benedict broke the kiss–backing away just enough to see your face though his body was against yours.

He swallowed. It was as though what he was trying to say was too much to declare; the words pausing in his throat, in his mind, before he could physically make the sound. Words held weight. They held a deeper meaning and far more promise than a stroke of one’s hands or the touch of one’s lips. Benedict’s eyes flickered from your own to your lips, begging to be met yet still lingering in purgatory.

“You— “He huffed a breath that sent shivers down your spine. The hot air meeting your mouth; slightly agape, waiting patiently for his. “—consume my every thought. My soul— “One of his hands gripped your waist tightly, leaning you into the wooden support underneath the stands. The other began bunching your dress upwards and into his palm. “—belongs to you. Only you and your irritatingly perfect being.”

“If I am perfection, Mr. Bridgerton, then I wished to be ruined.”

Benedict pressed his lips to yours feverishly. Every fiber molded for you as you welcomed him in and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, greeting the crown of his head with a trail of your fingernails sending a surge through him. His tongue memorized itself with your own, not fighting, but languidly he caressed your own as his hand hitched higher and higher until the skirt of your dress is bunched, and his hand could feel the clasps of the garters which connected your stockings to your shift.

“A bit of a hot day for these, eh darling?” He broke away, having looked down to unclasp one before reclaiming his lips to yours.

As his mouth re-familiarized itself with yours, your mind raced to where his hands were: gripping, grazing, and getting nowhere out of sheer respect. Moving one hand off of his head and out of the hair he knew you loved to weave those delicate fingers in, you grasped his hand that was left on your thigh and brought it up.

Inching agonizingly slow and steady to your breast as the dresses design help heighten the cleavage. You shifted his palm to one breast—sucking on Benedict’s lower lip before releasing it with an indigent pop.

“The only thing to cool me down is your touch, Mr. Bridgerton…” He squeezed your breast tightly, moving a thumb over the fabric right above your nipple to feel it bud. You lulled your head back against the post as his eyes watched his hands movements. “…and I am so very hot at the moment.”

Your words made him squirm, building the sensation he always felt in your presence even if he tried to quell it. Shifting to where there was no more space between you, the fabrics of your clothes combining into one, Benedict pressed himself into you. Continuing to grope and inhale deeply, the artistic Bridgerton placed his head on your shoulder, his nose in your collarbone.

“I won’t ruin you.” Your heart plummeted, having waited for this very moment to be free of the lustrous torment the man has driven you to with nothing more than a glance and a stroll. “But I can make you sing, if that is what the Miss wants?”

He placed a kiss on your collarbone, lifting his head enough to nudge his nose against your chin as you recover from his words. He could make you sing. Sing high for his inspiration to be recovered; Benedict Bridgerton had his muse—one he could not paint, but play.

“Let me cool you. Let me show you that art comes in many forms. My masterpiece—you come in many forms.”

“As does your art, Mr. Bridgerton.” You whispered, watching as the sun that streamed in from the slotted stands above you trickled lines of bright, golden sun onto your rendezvous.

“Now…” Lifting a single, manicured finger to his chin, you lifted his head with no restraint. A pair of eyes glistening; the pupils blown in lust as he let you command.

“Show me what an artist’s hands can do.”

Benedict slotted his right leg between the two of yours and gave your dress room to sit above his knee. It was a matter of convenience to let his hand go, leaving it to travel to his lips, waiting inches from yours. He locked eyes with you, the hoods ever-so-lust heavy and put his index and middle fingers to his lips and licked, letting it tug on his bottom lip for a brief second before leading them south.

“Benedict–” You began, the butterflies making their way back to your stomach as the crowds began to move their feet above you; the wood creaking as his hand inched lower and lower until you could feel his fingertips break the space between your slip and your skin. In the heat his hands were warm, with the grateful mouth of his they had turned cold.

“If you do not want them to hear darling–” He continued, his fingers inching closer until they breeched the space they were looking for. He barely grazed the aching bud when your breath hitched, and he smirked. “–they I suggest you stay quiet.”

Then he pressed on your clit, slowly refamiliarizing himself and watching your breathing go unsteady as your shoulders rolled back against the column. Your hot breath on his face, he moved his hand off your breast and splayed it on your lower back, drawing the lower half closer to him, rubbing his two fingers in delicate circles as the strain of keeping a sound in was tense in your throat.

“This here–” He sighed, overwhelmed himself and each feel of your flesh begging him to lose decorum and take you here, “–is the thing I long for most but you, you make my heart feel alive.” You wanted to tell him to be quiet just as he had you, but Benedict just watched your face, moving his fingers faster and faster until you squirmed in his arms to do something about it.

“You,my masterpiece, writhing in my arms.”

“Benedict.” You huffed, not moaned. He had told you to be quiet and you complied, but he, he was begging to be directed. If he was the artist, then you were the composer. “Why have me writhe when I can shudder? Stop teasing me with your bloody fingers and give me what we both want.”

Benedict captured his lower lip in between his teeth, finger never slowing and rested his forehead against yours. “Your wish is my command, darling. One day you’ll beg your husband for more and I will happily oblige that day, but for now, I’ll give what I can.”

His fingers slipped from your clit and into your cunt with not a moment’s hesitation and you gripped the back of his head to bring his lips to yours to silence the sound that was aching to come out. He worked his fingers in and out gingerly, not slowly but just the right pace to savor the moment and let his mouth explore yours as his tongue slips through your lips that had been fighting. Your fingernails scraped at the hair on the back of his head, pulling the brown locks as he filled you with his fingers to his knuckles.

He hadn’t been inside for three minutes before a bell sounded from above and nearly made both your souls jump out of your skins.

“Fuck…” Benedict laughed, crinkling his eyes at the side and pausing his fingers for just a moment. “I nearly thought someone had found us.” You could not help but smile, your chest heaving for a moment of air, but your mind was clouded–waiting for him to continue and certainly not ready to be complete without reaching the goal.

“The horses are nearly off, Benedict.” You whispered, grabbing his elbow of the hand currently deep inside of you. You tugged, grunting at the sensation it sent shooting through you, edging him to continue as your eyes pleaded. “I do not like to believe you’d have them finish before me?”

He shook his head like a little boy caught eating sweets past bedtime. “Can’t have that now, can we?” and the bell sounded again. This time, Benedict sped with the sound of hooves meeting the sweltering grass. His hand moved rapidly, curing the tips to reach the pillowy flesh swollen and wet. Instead of kissing you again, he leaned his head toward your ear.

“You bewitch me…” His breath was staggered, his own arousal pressing hard against your opposite leg as he nearly straddled you against the post. “You consume my every thought, my every waking moment.” You could hear the hooves draw closer, the rallying cries from above. Your leg began to give away, shaking from the sheer pressure of standing and being stimulated. “I dream of you, the family we will have.” He imagined the future. How these fingers would be replaced with all of him and in the comfort of the home you shared, he could do everything he imagined.

“I have seen you so full of me you can barely move.” He huffed, wrapping the arm from your lower back around you, pulling you close as you clutched his arm and chest. It had taken all of your power to stay quiet. Your teeth indented white onto your lower lip. “You have entranced me, body and soul, and you say my name–” He grunted, trying to relieve the pressure he had not been able to expel and rolled his hip against yours.

“–You–”

“Benedict, I–”

The hooves had lessened momentarily before the rumbles began to reverberate from the grass to the dirt. You could feel it in your toes, and you were so close. His fingers moving quickly, his confessions burning desire into your heart and pulsing points of passion that could only be cooled by one man, the man whose name you spoke.

“Benedict.” You whimpered, breaking the bite on your lip and finally giving way when the crowd above began to silence the rumbles of the horses. “God, Benedict, I am so close.”

And he knew what to do. Taking his thumb, he continued his pace but pressed harsh circles onto your clit as the horses grew louder and louder. He kissed your ear lobe, pulling the skin with his teeth and letting it go with a lewd pop. “I am yours, and you mine. Love, let me see my work.” He turned his head to yours, watching the way your mouth went slack as the cheers grew stronger. He thought he would lose, that the horses would run too fast, and it would take longer under the circumstances, but he knew his fingers did the trick the moment the screams of the crowd corresponded with the bell and you had grabbed the back of his neck, not meeting his lips but seizing your back and curling your toes against the grass in your delicate shoes with a moan that had sent him to meet his maker.

His masterpiece, you, letting go of all expectations and giving into exhibition under the grandstand of the Royal Ascot Races. Benedict’s hand stilled, letting your release slowly work down his fingers and settle with your breathing as the time began to steady. You lulled your head back, closing your eyes to relish in the brief moment of relief before the chaos began again–being held by the man you love while he cared about you, not asking for anything in return and not forcing you to do something you do not.

You felt him dip his head, placing a light kiss on your shoulder. The short sleeves had fallen and neither of you had bothered to notice. Benedict slowly removed his hand instead of wiping it on a handkerchief or on the shift underneath your dress, he brought his two fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched his fingers bathed in your release come clean from his swollen lips unable to formulate a proper sentence at the sight.

“Still sweet in this dreadful summer heat.”

But he could, and that broke the lustful tension that correlated with the descending feet from above.

“Such a poet, Mr. Bridgerton… I do wonder what inspired it.” You smiled, twisting a strand of hair at the nape of his neck with a single finger.

“You, darling.” He smiled, not thinking of the hordes of people beyond the stand preventing a clean escape or the suspicious looks Eloise, Anthony, and Violet would give when they saw his flushed cheeks and your hasty exit.

“You are my greatest muse, my love.”

A/N:

Thank you very much for reading. As always, likes, reblogs, comments, and reactions are always encouraged. Those are what keep me writing and mean so much to me when interactions happen.

Also not fully edited—sorry for any errors in spelling, etc.