Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Heyo! It's been a while for some of you, so just to give you some context: Maeve and Lucian already fooled around once, and when they met again, Maeve handed him a key so he'd be able to get into the Langston property easily. This scene happens a few hours after she does that. Enjoy ;)
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Amalia rolled to the side, half-asleep, seeking her husband's warm embrace. When nothing but the mattress welcomed her enterprise, she extended her arm, finding Aiden's pillow cold and empty.
Her eyes fluttered open, a frown bending her brows in confusion. The room was plunged into darkness, which confirmed it was still the middle of the night.
"Darling?" she softly called, sitting up.
"Here."
His low whisper came from the balcony, where the double doors that led to it were wide open. Willing her sleepy limbs to cooperate, she slipped out of the covers to join him, barefooted and in her long night chemise.
She found Aiden sitting on a chair he'd moved there, still wearing his formal shirt and trousers from their evening out. In his hand was a nearly finished glass of what she guessed was gin.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, slightly worried.
Aiden offered her a nod, his eyes lost somewhere on the garden below them, and then brought the glass to his lips to finish it before settling it on the floor by his side. Without a word, he reached out to grab her gown and pulled her toward him. Understanding his intentions, Amalia sat on his lap, lying her temple on his solid shoulder.
They remained silent for a few moments, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the side of her thigh while his eyes never left the darkness below.
"What's on your mind?" she whispered into his ear.
"When we came home earlier, the gatekeeper told me he was missing a key."
Surprised that such mundane information could throw her husband off so much, Amalia offered him a puzzled frown. "Which one?"
