Her wedding gift

2000 Words
I could not help but touch him in return. His dark hair. His broad shoulders. His strong back. His taut buttocks. Yes, I even dared to squeeze there. His attentions were setting me free from any inhibitions. She-wolf, the Alpha of my Desires, A Memoir *Althea* The following afternoon, as my car carries me into the heart of Blackrock city and Millie sits beside me, a weariness deep enough to make my bones feel as pliable as melting wax settles over me. As much as I enjoy riding, I'm not looking forward to this outing. I hadn’t slept after returning home from the ball. Every time I closed my eyes, Knightley was over me, his hair brushing my forehead, his eyes heated, his voice rough as he assured me, "Everything will be all right." And my body growed warm and aches in places that long for a man’s attentions. I try to think of Chidding. Why can’t visions of him come to me when I have these dreadful yearnings? Because he’s yet to kiss me? Because I have no s****l experiences with him to draw upon? The very last thing I want is to spend time with Knightley. No, the very last thing I want is to lose my trusts. I could find employment somewhere, surely. For a newspaper perhaps. Although I'm fairly certain the income wouldn’t be nearly as generous as the yearly amount I'm presently accustomed to receiving. I’d be unable to afford servants, except perhaps for Millie who might be content with a roof over her head and food. In exchange for which, she could watch over Arianna. I would need someone to care for my daughter if I myself had to be out searching for stories. Then there's the matter of someone learning I have given birth to a child out of wedlock. That sort of situation is terribly frowned upon. No one would hire me under those circumstances. I could claim to be a widow. I had considered it when I had first returned, but the deception didn’t sit well with me… now, however, I am turning to deception at Knightley’s urging in order to protect myself and my daughter. I could devote myself more enthusiastically to my writing. I had earned a tidy little sum on my first book, although little is the important word there. But if I wrote novels of romance and adventure, with heroines to capture she-wolves’ imaginations, perhaps I could eke out a modest living. I have received several letters sent to She-wolf or Author of The Alpha of my Desires via my publisher who has passed them on to my solicitor who has, of course, delivered them to me. Most praised my writing and encouraged me to write another tale. Oddly, I have not had a single she-wolf complain about my book. Only the men. Perhaps they were threatened by the notion of a female protagonist who would not be cowed. In spite of the current upheavals, I am making good progress on the second volume. Writing the first had been draining, but the second, because most of it is indeed fiction, is a more joyful experience. I can shift the story’s focus, so it doesn’t relate to the first at all, so it is clearly a novel. It is something to ponder. I might ask Knightley for his opinion on the matter. No, I absolutely will not. He is not a confidant for Goddess’s sake. He is a fellow conspirator, and nothing more. Once this Brumsberry business is behind me, I’ll never engage with him again. I hate the sense of loss that thought brings with it. Damn the man. Even when I don’t like him, he has the ability to occupy far too many of my musings. The car finally turns into his drive, and I tamp down the excitement that arises from a past habit of when I had always anticipated moments with him. Now they are merely to be endured. I don’t bother glancing out the window, but rather study my knotted hands, striving to bring a calm to my erratic heart and a neutrality to my features. While I appreciate his willingness to assist me, I want to make it clear I feel nothing even remotely joyous toward him. After the vehicle comes to a stop, the door immediately opens, and he is there extending his hand toward me. Had he been waiting for me out here? No, he had probably had someone watching to notify him of my arrival. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.” “Yes, thank you.” I place my hand in his and, as he closes his fingers around it, command my heart to still itself. While he isn’t wearing gloves, I am wearing leather ones, so it isn’t as though it is skin upon skin, but just like last night, it feels magical all the same. Damn, the man. Gracefully, I slide out, and he releases his hold quickly, no doubt because Millie hovers in the doorway. I watch as he greets my maid before helping her to clamber out. Millie is adept at blending in. She wouldn’t expect to be included in conversation. However, she will be vigilant in watching her charge, but unobtrusive. Certainly, she wouldn’t bring out a scrap of yarn and measure the distance between me and Knightley, who at that moment sweeps a hand off to the side. “I’ve had the horses readied.” I look in the direction he indicates, and my breath backs up in my lungs. His horse I recognize, but standing beside the gelding is a glistening black mare with a pure white mane and tail. In awe, I slowly begin walking toward her. “Oh, my word. She’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen the likes of her. Wherever did you find her?” “I told a breeder I know that I was in search of something unique. He found her for me.” He tells. When I am near enough, I take hold of the bridle and rub my hand along the horse’s forelock. “What’s her name?” “Queen. She was meant to be your wedding gift.” I jerk my head around to stare at him, but he is watching his hands as he tugs on his gloves. Was this horse proof he had intended to marry me, that as he’d divulged, I wasn’t the reason he had changed his mind? He lifts his gaze, pinning me to the spot. “You can take her with you when you leave, if you like.” “I’m not going to accept a gift from you.” I tell him. “You would be doing her a favor. She doesn’t get ridden as much as she would like. She’s gentle. Your daughter could ride her.” Queen nudges my shoulder, and Knightley smiles. “She likes you. She knows where she belongs.” I might hate him even more for this, for making me want the mare, for making me wonder what truly transpired all those years ago. "I wish you would tell me the truth of what happened." "Shall I hoist you in the saddle?" For a moment, it's as though he's asked if he can put me in his bed, and I'm not altogether certain I would say no. I want him to touch me, with his hands, with his lips, with his words. I long to understand how he can go to such trouble to find me the perfect present, knowing how much I love to ride, and yet subsequently break my heart. It makes no sense whatsoever, but his quick deflection of the question indicates he isn't going to tell me anything. What is the secret he holds so close, so tightly? Does it choke him as mine does? I'm not going to beg or nag or goad him into telling me, because I, too, am keeping things from him. "Yes, please, if you don't mind." I shift into position and realize the saddle, too, has been made for me. An A within a circle of flowers intricately carved within the leather. What does it all mean? "Turn about," he says. Then I'm looking up into his deep blue eyes, trying to decipher all the emotions they seem to be conveying. "As I mentioned before, it had nothing at all to do with you. I'm incredibly sorry, Althea, that I have brought you such trouble, but I promise you will not pay any other price for it. Brumsberry will not learn the truth. Speculation will soon cease. You will have the wedding and mate you deserve." He says softly. "You never call him my brother." I ponder. He shakes his head lightly, "Having had a brother myself, I know Brumsberry is not worthy of the distinction. A brother doesn't seek to destroy his sister." "I guess we have best get on with the... pretense." I mumble. With a nod, he closes his hands around my waist and lifts me into the saddle. It's perfection, fits me like it had been made for me and me alone, because of course it had been. I don't want to consider how life with him would have been a series of surprises, like this. How often he might have brought me tears of joy. All the mornings I may have awoken grateful to have him lying beside me. While he assists me, a groom who has been waiting nearby helps seat Millie. Now, I watch as Knightley mounts, his breeches pulling tight across his thighs and buttocks, mouthwateringly so. When settled, he offers me a small smile and guides his horse toward the gate. I mimic his actions and draw parallel to him, while Millie follows at a short distance. "Do you really think this is going to work?" "If nothing else, it will shift the gossip away from the book to us specifically. There's bound to be some speculation that I have rethought matters and am after your hand." He says. "But you haven't and you're not." I point out. He lets out a soft sigh, "Would you want it any other way?" "My father once told me that trust lost is difficult to regain." "I would say he was a wise man, but he put that stupid stipulation on your trust. He had to know his son’s feelings toward you." I sigh, "Sometimes I think my father had the ability to divide his life into distinct parts. He had two separate families. I suspect or at least hope he loved them equally. I knew his love and hope the others did as well." "You’re a remarkable she-wolf, Allie, to be so generous. I think Brumsberry would rather destroy you than wish upon you any measure at all of your father’s devotion." "Do you know I have never even spoken to him? The current Alpha Brumsberry. My half brother. I’ve seen him from a distance, but that was some years ago. I doubt I’d recognize him if we crossed paths now." As we enter the park, I can sense him studying me. "Then Brumsberry doesn't know you at all, does he? He knows only of your existence, not the she-wolf you are." "I very much doubt he would like me anyway." I admit. "He would adore you." He says. I laugh lightly. "You can’t help it, can you, Knightley?" "Help what?" He asks. "Flirting, issuing compliments." "I never say anything I don’t mean." He shrugs. "Well, except when I claim I’m not Alpha K and have no idea who She-wolf is." Had he loved me five years ago, then, when he had regaled me with words of love? Does he loathe me now? His actions to assist me with my current trials certainly don’t make it appear he suffers while in my company. Although perhaps his support is all simply guilt. I wonder if I will ever know the truth of things.
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