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At only six years old, Penelope Featherington already craved an escape.
An escape from her father, aloof and neglectful of the daughters he should be protecting as he gambled and drank his way through life.
An escape from her mother, singularly focused on social standing and unconcerned with her needs.
An escape from her sisters who took for granted how lucky they were to have one another when she had no one.
An escape from the expectations thrust upon her from an early age to act as a proper lady should, and from the judgement that would inevitably occur when she could not measure up.
An escape from the destiny she purportedly had been assigned before she was even born, a destiny that included only status and connections and left little room for happiness or dreams of her own.
She wasn’t sure that it should be the case that at the tender age of six, her mother had already written her off.But between her unruly curls, round cheeks, and curious mind, it was quite clear from the start that she didn’t fit into the box her mama would like her to in order to ensure that she would become who she needed her to be in this world.
It didn’t help that her own parents did not have a love match, that they were merely a convenience that did not end up being so convenient when all was said and done. Her father barely paid any attention to any of them, and that included her mother. If her mother had ever had dreams of her own, Penelope was not privy to what they were. All she could surmise was that her mother never seemed quite happy or settled, constantly concerned with positioning her family in such a way that they could continue to rise in spite of her father’s shortcomings as head of the family.
The lack of attention paid to her did, however, have one advantage - Penelope had learned at a young age that she could sneak off as she pleased to have a moment alone somewhere, as her family didn’t concern themselves much with what she was doing.
Sometimes it meant that she could sneak away from her parents arguing.
Sometimes it meant she could sneak all the way out of the house to have some time to herself in the garden or a walk around the square.
Today, it meant that while her sisters sat in their usual space at the park having lunch while her mother chatted with passersby and her father slept in a chair, she could run off on her own to enjoy the beautiful summer day, likely having secured quite a bit of time to herself before they realized she was no longer there.
Once she had run far enough to be out of their line of sight, she began to dance, spinning in the way she loved, the way that made her skirts float. The way her mother hated, saying it wasn’t ladylike or appealing to be so discomposed.
She was twirling without a care,her face to the sky, when the wind took her bright yellow sunhat, pulling it from her head. Penelope watched in horror as it flew straight into the face of a little boy riding his horse, causing him to fall ungracefully into a puddle of mud. Gasping, she ran to him, throwing herself onto her knees in the mud alongside him to check him for injuries, as though there were any way such a little girl could help if there were any to be found.
“I’m so sorry,” she yelped as she reached to pull her hat from the boy’s face, uncovering the most beautiful denim blue eyes she had ever seen.
The kindest eyes she had ever seen.
He looked over at her and down at himself, then let out a laugh loud enough that she was quite sure the wind carried the sound of it throughout the park.
“Well that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?” he asked as she stared, mouth agape and still half-expecting admonishment.
“I’m Colin,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
“You want me to shake your hand?” Her question was hesitant. She very much wanted to take his hand, but she had been told over and over to stay away from the boys of the Ton, her mother having said something about them someday growing into the gentlemen she might marry and it being a poor idea for them to form an impression of her now.
“We are friends, are we not?” He raised his eyebrows at her as she watched one of his chestnut curls fall against his forehead before he blew it out of the way as hard as he could, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles. This particular boy seemed harmless. Silly, even.
“You do not even know my name,” she mused. “How could we be friends?”
Colin furrowed his brow, equal parts disappointment and stubbornness crossing his face.
“Tell me your name then,” he quipped back.
“Penelope,” she whispered.
“Now we are friends,” he said, and she took his hand, both muddying each other’s wrists in the process.
“Oh dear,” Penelope sighed as she looked down at her arms and dress. “I am muddy everywhere but my face.”
“Well that can be easily fixed,” he said with a devilish grin before running his dirty hands along her cheeks, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. Bravery coursing through her, she ran her hand through the puddle, swiping his forehead to mark it up as well as he laughed.
“Penelope Featherington!” She could swear she felt her heart stop as her mother screamed, sure that the fear she felt was surely evident on her face as Colin’s smile dropped and his eyes filled with concern.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly, leaning in close to her ear.
“My mama, she is not kind. She will not find this silly.” Tears filled her eyes at her admission, and Penelope noted that while he had not cried when he fell from his horse, he looked to be in physical pain knowing she would soon be in trouble.
Colin held her face in his muddy hands as she did the same to him, neither hesitating to pull their new friend close for the moment they had left together.
“Pen, I will protect you,” he said quietly enough to be sure that she alone could hear him as he nuzzled his nose against her own, flooding her with calm in the face of the coming storm.
And protect her he did, doing the best a boy of eight years could do to defend her and take all the blame upon himself for their collision and appearance in front of both of their mothers. It did not change the outcome, of course, as her mother scolded her the entire way home, as she was taken to bathe, and afterward, refusing her dinner and sending her to bed early.
It was worth it, though, to have met her new friend.
That night after writing of the account in her best penmanship in the diary she kept hidden beneath her floorboards, she went to sleep and had her first memorable dream, previously never having recalled them once morning came, but now it was all vivid and clear.
She could smell the fresh air and saltwater before the picture even came into focus.
A pirate ship on the open sea, with the sun beating down and beautiful blue surrounding her. She tried to move and realized she was bound - tied with her hands behind her back, as it seemed, yet she was not at all afraid. It was silly and fun, as though she was in the midst of a game as she saw her new friend Colin. He was exactly as she remembered him - deep blue eyes and chestnut waves, mischief all over his face as he ran up behind her, putting a finger to his lips as she nodded.
“You have been taken captive by pirates, my lady,” he whispered, and she tried her best not to laugh.
Quickly he brandished a knife and cut through the ropes that bound her, freeing her and taking her little hand in his as they ran away as quickly as they could manage. The pirates noticed immediately, of course, and began to chase them, but she felt only exhilaration as they approached the edge of the ship and not an ounce of fear.
“I will protect you,” Dream Colin whispered, and she knew it was true, trusting him as they ran and jumped overboard.
Penelope did not know how to swim during her waking hours, but it seemed not to matter in her sleep as the two children swam quite quickly to the shore of a beautiful island. There were white sandy beaches and the smoothest pebbles, and a forest to run within. They quite easily found all of the fruit their hearts desired, Colin climbing trees and tossing them down before they ate as they played, not even stopping to sit. There were animals everywhere - some she could name and others entirely new to her, all quite beautiful and wild but seemingly friendly.
The two children played games and sang songs, dancing around the island on their own without a care in the world and without anyone to tell them to stop.
It was a lovely dream, the first of many just like it. Every night she would dream of him, of their friendship and their adventures. It would quickly come to pass that she preferred sleep, knowing she would find him there and that life would be somehow both entirely fantastical and yet simple.
Colin and Penelope.
Penelope and Colin.
There could be nothing easier than that.
Twelve-year-old Colin cried out in his sleep once again, a common occurrence as yet another nightmare took hold of his mind.
As always, he stood on the edge of a scene in a room he didn’t know well, but was not wholly unfamiliar with - it was the Featherington drawing room. He did not go there often in his waking hours, but visited nightly in his dreams.
Watching with a scowl on his face, he saw Prudence and Philippa - both far old enough to know better than to inflict discomfort on their ten-year-old sister - take Penelope’s book from her hand and toss it onto the floor, losing her place so that she would not know what page she had last read. Colin was irate, and as he did every night, he tried to speak up, to call out and defend her, and as happened every night, he could not - they could not see or hear him. It was as though he were not there at all.
Her mother then entered the room, and while Colin wanted to believe that she would tell her older daughters to stop and defend his dearest friend and her youngest child, he had spent enough nights watching helplessly as these scenes unfolded which told him she would not, that she was perhaps the biggest bully of them all.
As Lady Featherington stepped into the room, Dream Penelope did not even bother to tell her that her sisters had been unkind to her, instead picking up the book quietly to try to find the page she had been reading when interrupted. He knew from other nights that she surely had decided the battle simply wasn’t worth it - there had been nights when she had tried to stand up for herself, and it never ended well for her.
A tear rolled down his cheek as he watched her stoically listen as her mother chastised her for sitting improperly and causing wrinkles in her dress. Where those wrinkles might be, he could not be certain as her dress looked plenty smooth from where he stood. With judgement dripping from her lips, Penelope’s mama reminded her that she was to refuse any biscuits offered to her at Bridgerton House for tea. Colin made a mental note to secure extra for her instead.
Then, finally, he entered the dream himself as she went across the road to his house, meeting her at the door and pulling her inside in a way that surely wasn’t proper but was still excused as the behavior of childhood friends. Her soft blue eyes lit up for the first time since his vision began, and he stayed as close to her as he could as they conversed about a book of ancient Greek myths he had that he believed she would love. It closely mimicked a conversation they had yesterday in reality, but it did not bother him one bit to repeat it in his dream, to relive those sweet moments with her instead of whatever nightmare this began as.
As Colin woke up, he hopped out of bed and searched his room, looking through his travel chest and then diving under his bed to dig through what he had stored there until he found the book they had been speaking of. He hoped she would enjoy it. Bringing it to his desk, he pulled out a quill and ink and wrote across the front page, branding it as her own in a way she could not deny.
Pen,
Perhaps someday I will travel to Greece and can bring you with me so that we can have great adventures together. Until then, enjoy this account of what could be.
With friendly affection,
Colin
He knew enough about propriety to know that he probably should not have written it, but what could the harm in it be? It was the truth, after all. He did wish to travel, and who would be a better companion than Penelope?
After quickly dressing himself, he tucked the book beneath his arm and jogged to the drawing room to join his family for breakfast. No sooner than he finished his plate did see her walk through the door, her big blue eyes searching the room before landing on his as a smile graced her face that he knew was matched on his own. As he rose to greet her, his sister Eloise ran over and wrapped an arm around her, whisking her away as quickly as she had arrived.
He sighed and huffed; it took everything within him not to be jealous of his little sister for the way she could do such things. He could never embrace Pen and drag her away without his mother and siblings pulling him back before he could even make it down the hall with her.
She did care for Eloise, though, and Eloise cared for her. He was glad for their friendship, that they would look after each other, especially as he prepared to leave for Eton in the following year. He would miss Penelope greatly, and knowing she was cared for, looked after by his sister - even if inadequately - did help ease his mind a bit.
It was hours later by the time he finally saw her again as she was preparing to leave.
“Pen!” He yelled, startling her a bit before she smiled. “I did not get to see you today.”
“Colin,” she smiled. “I know, I am sorry. I have to be back, and Eloise did take up quite a bit of my time with grievances she had to share about your sisters.”
Colin laughed, knowing she was being truthful.
“That does sound like her,” he said as he looked down at his feet. “I missed conversing with you, though.”
“I missed it as well. Perhaps next time?” She searched his eyes hopefully and he nodded.
“Oh, I do not wish to forget,” he tapped the book in his hand against the top of her head gently and she giggled. “This is the book we spoke of yesterday.”
He handed it out to her and she ran her fingers along the cover before taking it from him.
“Thank you. I shall return it as soon as I am finished. I promise I am a quick reader”
“Keep it, please,” he whispered. “I have read it so many times I have committed it to memory. I deeply wish for it to be yours.”
Penelope dropped her mouth open to respond and he flipped open the cover, showing her his inscription.
“See, it is yours now. To have,” he smiled and her eyes filled with tears. “I did not mean to make you cry.”
He stepped toward her and wiped her tear away with his thumb, and she smiled at him.
“They are happy tears. No one has ever done anything so kind for me.”
Feeling warmed by her praise and then again by the anger that coursed through him with the understanding that the care in her life had been so lacking that his scribbling across a book was the pinnacle of kindness to her, he vowed silently in that moment not to allow that to remain her kindest memory for long.
“Do you mean it? You would take me to Greece?”
He was taken aback by her question. It just seemed so simple to him that they would go together.
“Of course I would. You are my dearest friend, though I know that Eloise is yours and that is fine. But of course I would take you to Greece, or anywhere else we wish to go. I’d prefer to go together - think of all of the adventures we could have.”
“But Colin, you are a gentleman and I am a lady. I do not think others will allow it.”
“Well I don’t much care what others have to say about it.”
She giggled.
“Then I suppose I do not either.”
After she left, he hurried to his room to jot down his plans for traveling with her in Greece and all over the world. Perhaps he could tuck these plans away for later, but he would not let her down - he would make sure she saw it all with him.
It should not matter what others thought.
Penelope and Colin.
Colin and Penelope.
It was as simple as that, was it not?
Penelope had been dreaming for years of Eton, a place she had never been but had heard about in Colin’s letters to her. She was so familiar with its halls in her overnight expeditions that she was sure she could navigate them, should she ever find herself there.
That night, she experienced more of the same as she followed Dream Colin through a day, it seemed, watching him in his classes - he truly didn’t pay much attention for such an intelligent boy, she always thought to herself. The friends she saw him interact with bore the same names each night, and while most seemed like average gentlemen, there were a few she wished she could tell him probably did not have his best interest at heart. Throughout these dreams, though, she was mostly relegated to the sideline, an observer without the power to speak or interact.
The exception came at the very end each night, when he would turn and see her, his face lighting up as he called out her name and took her hand before pulling her along with him. She felt the heat of his palm against her own and their fingers laced together, unconcerned that she could not speak and instead happy to just get to be with him for a few moments.
Waking from her dream, she stretched and rubbed her eyes. If she was being honest, she wished she hadn't woken so soon. Until the summer holiday, those dreams and Colin’s letters were the only pieces of him she had to hold onto, and she missed him terribly. It was lovely to see him every night in her subconscious, where he seemed so excited to see her and tell her everything. It was beautiful in a way, the closeness Dream Colin seemed to crave with her as she wandered the halls of his school alongside him. The dreams always began with her watching, and she saw the way others looked at him. He commanded attention, because of course he did, but he always seemed a bit restless. The moment she stepped into the world, however, he became the Colin she had always known and adored.
Rising for the day, she waited for help dressing and looked in the mirror, turning from side to side as she studied her own face. Now fourteen, she was only a couple of short years away from presenting to society, from potentially becoming someone’s wife. It was something many of the girls looked forward to, lived for.
Eloise dreaded it with every fiber of her being, averse to all things prescribed, and often lamented to Penelope that this should not be their fate.
For Penelope, it wasn’t quite that way. The truth was that she loved society, loved the people watching, the events, the beauty of it all. Most of all, she loved romance. What scared her, though, was the knowledge that love matches were rare, that most women in the Ton married for convenience or did not have much choice when it came to which gentleman secured her hand.
She was young, but she was old enough to know that there was only one boy she had her eye on, though neither of them were yet of age to consider it yet. Colin might not ever see her that way, though, and she had no reason to believe that the butterflies she felt in her stomach when he looked her way were present for him. They likely weren’t, if she was being honest, because he always seemed quite composed. He was a Bridgerton, after all, even if he was quite different from his siblings.
Today, she was going to the Bridgertons’ house for tea as she did often, but it was different now than when they were children - different without Colin. She walked over to her bookshelf, opening the book he had given her four years ago, running her finger across the message he had left in it for her and remembering how he said he’d take her anywhere.
He wouldn’t be able to, of course. Not really. He was sixteen, with two years left at Eton before he would be joining society events to secure himself a match. He would surely spend time touring and traveling on his own and would be expected to look for a wife as well. She was sure that he had meant it at the time, that he wanted to take her on his adventures, but it just could not be.
It didn’t stop it from invading her dreams often, though. Dreams of the desire to go, just the two of them, and explore a place she’d never seen, sometimes never even heard of. Places whose names she would later see gracing the pages of one of his weekly letters and be tickled by the coincidence that perhaps he thought about it as often as she did.
When she arrived at Bridgerton House, she was whisked away by Eloise as she always had been since childhood, pulled off to Colin’s study in search of a book she was certain he had.
“I do miss my brother, but I am quite glad I no longer need to compete with him for your attention,” Eloise chuckled as she searched a bookshelf, unaware of the way Penelope turned away and fought back tears.
“You have never needed to compete for my attention even once, Eloise. You have always had me, and I can manage friendships with more than one Bridgerton.” She ran her hand along the edges of what looked to be a handmade book, bound on the edges with string, curiously picking it up as Eloise continued her search.
Colin Bridgerton’s Adventures graced the front page in the penmanship of a child, along with a drawing of a pirate ship. Smiling to herself, it warmed her heart to think of Colin writing his own adventures as a child, knowing how much he had always enjoyed reading them and always longed for them himself. There was something so familiar and comforting about holding his stories in her hands, but she did not know if he wanted anyone to be reading them so she gave the makeshift childhood manuscript a quick hug against her chest, inhaling the smell of the old parchment before returning it to its spot.
Eloise never did find the book she was looking for and they spent the day wandering about outdoors instead, with Penelope arriving home just in time for dinner before escaping to her room where she found a new letter from Colin sitting on her bed, clearly placed there by staff when the post had been received earlier that day.
Her smile grew as she opened it and read tales of his own days, his classes and his friends. As always, the final paragraph of his letter was about missing her terribly and wishing she was there with him. It would be seen as inappropriate if anyone knew that he was writing such things to her, about missing her so, but she knew that he did not intend anything untoward, nor did he have any romantic feelings for her.
Still, knowing that he wished for her and missed her made her days easier.
If only it could be just them - their friendship, their ease, their dreams.
Colin and Penelope.
Penelope and Colin.
For now, she could continue to pretend that simplicity was their truth.
Quite suddenly one night, at the age of nineteen, Colin began to dream of all the things that were happening in the Ton, believing that his mind had become obsessed with the idea of the social setting and what was going on around him.
He dreamed of all the drama that had happened before his eyes - seeing the presentation of the ladies to the queen in great detail. Daphne in all her glory being called a diamond of the first water. And then, of course, his Penelope… but in the dream, it was not as he remembered it. There was a tone of distaste, of Pen being forced into an early debut, and her clothing looked more enhanced in its Featheringtonness than he had ever remembered, a product of her tasteless, tactless mama. It was again as though he could not reach her, despite the fact that he knew he had been there. They were his least favorite dreams, but he knew them well, these moments of sitting on the edge and watching without being able to change anything.
He was noticing everything in his dream that night, feeling as though he was in a state of hyperawareness of his surroundings, of every murmur and whisper, every look. No stranger to gossip, he quite enjoyed it when it was with Penelope, always having wandered around promenades together people-watching as his mother required he and his older brothers to be presentable, but she always approved of him taking a quick walk around the park with Pen as they mused about what various people might be thinking about or planning to do once they left. This dream felt that way, but without Pen beside him. Desperately, he wanted to grasp her hand and pull her off to the side with him to enjoy this together instead of feeling so alone as he watched her flit around just out of his reach.
He awakened that morning and could feel the activity in the house before he even left his room, dressing and heading to breakfast and overhearing tales of his sister as she prepared for her first ball after having been introduced to the queen. Smiling to himself, he could not help but think it was all a bit silly, but he was happy for Daphne nonetheless.
He wondered what Penelope would wear and whether the same hustle and bustle was happening over at Featherington House this morning with all three girls preparing. Knowing that Daphne was surrounded in the love and support that Penelope wasn’t, he wished he could go to her, wished it were appropriate for him to go sit with her while she readied herself and hear her quip about the others while they relaxed and enjoyed one another, as it should be. He hoped that she would save a dance for him, quite sure that her dance card would fill up. Even the thought made his stomach turn, though he knew it was what she deserved.
“What is this?” he heard a maid say as they showed one another a pamphlet.
“Just another gossip column,” another replied.
“This one is different - there are names,” the first replied and the second’s eyes went wide. “There’s kindness about Miss Daphne. Oh, but the Featherington girls…”
“Might I see it?” Colin approached with a hand outstretched, hoping they would see to his request, but they hesitated.
“You’d like to read a gossip rag, Mr. Bridgerton?”
“It sounds like it has information about…” he began before his voice wandered off, quieting as he realized that he should not appear so eager.
The two women exchanged knowing glances that he did not care to decipher at this moment.
“About your Miss Penelope, sir?”
He nodded, blushing. Perhaps he should refute her being referred to as his, but in truth it felt right.
“Only a bit and it isn’t the most generous,” she warned as she handed him the paper.
As he read it, he let out a chuckle at the writer poking a bit of fun at his siblings being named alphabetically. Whoever wrote this was bright and funny, a breath of fresh air, really, in an otherwise stuffy existence.
Daphne was called a diamond of the first water, and his vision went a little hazy. It felt so much like his dream, as he checked the publication date twice to be sure that he had not, in fact, read this before somehow. He could not have, though.
The author lost him, however, in her lack of respect for Penelope. Sure, Lady Featherington deserved whatever was coming her way and had never treated Pen to his liking, but he didn’t appreciate her being caught in the crossfire or the implication that she would not find a husband.
Her tasteless, tactless mama…
He closed his eyes and shook his head, as though he could dislodge any confusion physically. He tried running his fingers through his hair and squeezing the back of his neck.
“Everything alright, sir?” A concerned voice broke through his thoughts, and only then did he remember that he was not alone.
“Yes, all will be well.” Smiling, he nodded to each of the maids before handing the pamphlet back to them.
Colin entered the drawing room to find all of the girls missing, surely making preparations for the ball that night as Daphne’s first.
“Plans for the morning, brother?” Benedict asked, and he hesitated in his reply.
“Would it be inappropriate to call on someone this morning?”
His older brother looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“Merely a friend, but in truth I…” Colin considered how fully honest he could be with his brother and decided he could ask. “I do not know how I am meant to behave now. I know how to behave with eligible ladies of course, but must I… must it be the same with her?”
“With Miss Featherington?” Anthony’s voice rang in from behind him, and he dropped his head at the sound of the last person he wanted to hear at this moment.
“She is my dearest friend,” Colin whispered.
“You are no longer children. She is an eligible lady of the Ton and you are an eligible gentleman, you are to treat one another as such.”
Unwilling to allow Anthony to lecture him on this matter, he shook his head.
This wasn’t some eligible lady, this was his Pen.
“She is my dearest friend. I will visit her when it pleases us and will be taking her to Greece,” he got out as quickly as he could muster, knowing what was coming. The ire on Anthony’s face was evident several moments before he even began yelling, giving fair warning of what was coming next.
“Have you gone mad, Colin? Truly? You will be doing nothing of the sort.”
“Anthony, I have promised her.”
“Have you promised her as her husband?”
“Of course not, I -”
“As her betrothed, then?”
Colin swallowed hard.
“Anthony, give him a moment, he does not intend anything malicious,” Benedict interjected.
“I know he does not, but he also does not seem to understand that his relationship with Miss Featherington must change now that they are of age. He can no longer run around disregarding propriety the way he has. It can no longer be excused as children playing games.”
“Excuse me,” Colin said as he stood and exited the drawing room.
“Where in the bloody hell do you think you’re going?” Anthony hollered after him, certainly expecting his younger brother to wait and respect his authority, but he did not have time for that, making it several steps out the doorway before yelling his reply over his shoulder.
“Brother, I do not believe you wish to know.”
Once across the road, Colin snuck into the Featherington garden, knocking on the door he knew to be the servants entrance.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” one of the footmen said from inside, two of the maids walking up behind him to listen. “I believe you are at the wrong door, sir.”
“I do not believe it is proper time to be calling, what with the first ball tonight,” Colin began slowly, and they glanced at one another and nodded. “But I wish to see Pen - Miss Penelope - before her first ball, and I do not know if she will have time for me this evening.”
“Why do you need to see her?” one of the maids asked, a glimmer in her eyes.
“Because she is my dearest friend, and I intend to wish her luck. I am told I must behave differently with her now that she has been presented, and if I am being honest, I loathe it. I hoped for just a moment alone with my friend while I am able to secure it.”
There was a silence that went on far too long for his liking as he furrowed his brow and dropped his head, failing to have any semblance of patience as he waited for a response.
“I’ll get her, Mr. Bridgerton,” one of the maids said. Did she know what a gift she was giving him? “Wait out here.”
He sat upon her bench and waited for only minutes before she appeared, hair wild and a simple day dress adorning her.
Breathtaking, he thought, a word he knew better than to speak aloud.
“Pen,” he said. “You look quite charming.”
She blushed and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I have not yet had my hair fixed for the evening,” she said. “I know it is improper, but I was not expecting any visitors.”
“Sorry to disappoint -”
“No, you did not -” she paused and took a deep breath, struggling to meet his eyes. “I did not mean to say that you should not have come, Colin. Only that I am surprised. It is lovely to see you.”
His hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, reached out to pull on one of her curls, and he watched it bounce as her eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
“It is lovely to see you, too,” he started, remembering why he was there. “I only meant to wish you luck tonight. I know you will have endless suitors to entertain, but I will be there if you have a moment to spare for a lemonade with a friend.”
Penelope smiled.
“I will always have time for you, Colin.”
“And a dance, perhaps?” he shot out. “I am sure you will have many requests for dances, and you of course owe me nothing, but I - “
He paused and locked his gaze with hers, calming his nerves in the pools staring back at him.
“I should love a dance, Pen, if that sounds agreeable to you.”
“You may have all the dances,” she said before blushing. Perhaps she realized after speaking how eager she sounded, a malady that plagued him quite often. “Or, all the dances that are appropriate and that you wish for. My dance card will be waiting for your signature.”
He would sign her dance card that evening.
Twice, in fact. He was sure he could get away with no more, as they were not courting or engaged.
His name was all that he had written that day.
He did not know, of course, that he was all she would dream of that night.
Penelope’s dream smelled like salt water and felt like sunshine, walking along the beaches of Greece with Colin before he led her to a market, smiling wide as he told her how much he wished for her to be there with him to experience this. He was as giddy as a small child as he wandered the stalls looking for gifts for his family, and she followed a few paces behind him as she soaked up as much of him as she could.
Stopping to talk to locals with broken language but an easygoing smile, he was every bit the man she adored. Now eighteen, she had years under her belt of dreaming of him and of their adventures together and knew to take advantage of every moment. Pointing out fruit she had never seen before, flowers she loved, a necklace with a special stone that left her in awe, he told her over and over that he knew she would love it here, had hoped that she would.
They wandered cobblestone streets as she listened to him tell her all about the city with a passion in his eyes that she could not get enough of before asking her how she was, what she had to share with him. As always, the vision began to fade away then, allowing her last sleeping thought to be his kind eyes locked with her own.
As she woke up gently and her eyes fluttered open, she took a moment before remembering where she was - Colin’s bedroom at Aubrey Hall. She had been invited by Lady Bridgerton to come stay for the month and was overjoyed at the prospect of a month with Eloise and her siblings, a month away from her own mother and sisters.
Typically on her visits to Aubrey Hall, she stayed with Eloise or in the guest wing on the other side of the house, but as Colin was away on his tour, his room was available, and he had insisted to his mother that Penelope make use of it for the duration of her stay. She quite loved Colin’s bedroom - it felt warm and soft, with a large bed adorned with too many blankets and pillows - far more than his sisters had, which made her giggle. It was a cozy space with a full bookshelf, extra parchment and quills, and maps scattered about that he had clearly used for planning adventures over the years - perhaps even some of the same ones she dreamed of. To rest in overnight visions of adventures with him and wake up in his bed, surrounded by him in all the ways she could be, brought her more comfort than she could reasonably admit.
After dressing for the day, she went downstairs to join the Bridgertons for breakfast when a footman appeared with the post.
“Are there letters from Colin?” Hyacinth hollered.
“Only one letter today, miss, but it is from your brother. For Miss Featherington.”
Penelope blushed before taking the envelope, his siblings staring at her.
“We correspond quite a bit and there is of course a delay,” she tried to explain or excuse a way before Violet put her arm around her. “And I had informed him that I would be here for the remainder of the month. There is nothing inappropriate, Colin is a gentleman. You… you may read it if you feel that -”
“That will not be necessary. It is wonderful, Penelope, that you two continue to cultivate your friendship. He found such a lovely friend in you in childhood, dear, and I am so pleased that you have both chosen to have that continue.” Penelope nodded and smiled at her, grateful that Violet seemed to embrace their relationship in a way her mother never would.
She took her letter with her outside, finding an old tree alongside a pond they used to play in as children, and she read Colin’s letter, tales of having arrived in a new city, and a note that he would be visiting the market the next week and would tell her all about it. She smiled as she thought of him and hugged the letter to her chest. She anticipated receiving about one more before Colin returned, probably one he had written within the last day or so, if her arithmetic was correct.
They had become so much closer over the summer through their correspondence, the consolation prize for not being able to travel together. She had always known it could not truly happen, and had been surprised and charmed to find out that he had fully intended to take her. He could not, of course, but he kept good on his promise to send her letters frequently and share everything he experienced so that she could feel as though she was there as well. It worked quite well, and she felt they were in such lockstep that she bizarrely could sense and see what he was experiencing before she even received his letter somehow. Perhaps he had just written so often and so much that she knew, feeling as though she was there alongside him.
After reading his letter over, and over, and over again, committing it to memory, she returned to the house to put it safely in her trunk, unaware that another was being handed off to send her at that very moment detailing markets that she would be sure were familiar to her without knowing why.
She settled in to pen her own response to him, detailing her day as a ship’s journey away in Greece, chestnut waves landed upon the pillow and denim blue eyes fluttered shut to dream of Aubrey Hall.
Colin tossed and turned, sweating and uncomfortable in his bed in Paris as his overnight counterpart lived yet another nightmare, chasing Penelope around a busy ballroom,unable to catch her, to speak with her, to dance with her in his arms.
As he followed her through crowds, he was always a few too many steps behind, and she was unable to hear him call out to her, once again as though he was not even there. He longed for her to turn around and look at him, missing her just as desperately in his dream as he did during his waking hours. He was inundated with the thoughts and stories of those who seemingly did not know how to whisper as he chased her.
Who would be the next to be betrothed.
Who had indulged in more spirits than they should have.
Who was ruining a young lady in a broom closet.
Normally one whose ears perked with interest, Colin could not bring himself to care at this moment, needing to get to Pen. Finally, he chased her outside to a scene he recognized as the garden outside her home, a garden he had visited many times. In the dream, though, it was filled with people and he realized he knew the time as well - the final ball of the last season, the one her mama hosted.
The one where he had gotten a bit drunk, as he had been prone to do last season more than he would like to admit.
The one where he had seen her for the last time as he danced with her, telling her she was special to him and she had said the same in return.
The one where he wanted to say more but could not form the words, could not yet organize his thoughts enough to give them the care that she deserved from him.
He had thought he had more time, that it was the beginning of something, but he had not seen her again, and she had not responded to him since.
He followed Dream Penelope, standing close enough behind her that surely she should have felt the warmth of him against her back, his breath on her neck had it been real. She was looking off in the distance as he heard the laughter of men and followed her line of sight.
It was him.
Him as he stood in the garden with gentlemen with whom he was acquainted, gentlemen who could barely be labeled as such.
Him as he laughed with them, drunkenness and testosterone filling the air.
Him as he heard Fife ask him what was happening between himself and Penelope. As Penelope heard it and held her breath.
Him as he answered that he would never dream of courting her.
The only woman he ever dreamed of.
Not in Fife’s wildest fantasies.
The only woman in his own fantasies.
His eyes darted to Dream Penelope, her eyes filled with tears as she ran off, leaving him once again trapped and unable to fix anything as he was frozen to the spot.
Colin woke suddenly and sprung up to sit, his body drenched in sweat and his face wet with tears.
Had he said those words? He couldn’t remember, in truth, though he did remember Fife chastising him, remembered many times where he had been defensive of their relationship, far too sacred to be in the hands and the mouths of men who were unworthy of her.
Could it be the reason she had not responded? He missed her so deeply, and to see a glimpse of her suffering, to know that he could have been the cause - as silly as it felt to act upon a dream, he had no choice.
He rose and began packing his belongings to leave immediately - his clothing, gifts he had picked up for his family and his sweet Pen, and his journal, still open with the ink from his previous night’s entry barely dried on the page.
The same night, Penelope had fitful sleep as well. Her dreams lately had still been filled with travel, with beautiful locations and stories that should have felt fulfilling, but it instead all felt… forlorn. As though there was yearning that could not have a conclusion, plans without fruition.
On occasion, though, her dreams had become much more salacious, and she had been at the center of them. Tonight, her dream self was laid out on a bed with Colin touching her between her legs, his godly fingers bringing her pleasure she did not know existed until it began haunting her dreams a few weeks prior. He was making her feel so good, but for his part, he seemed pained. He would not even look at her and touched her quite mechanically, as though he was merely getting a job done and not enjoying himself in the way she had heard other men speak of acts with ladies. She wished he would open his eyes, but he would not; it was as though he could not.
She startled awake, panting and confused once more as she placed her own hand between her legs to try to calm the ache while she thought of Colin.
Colin, who she was quite angry with at this moment.
Colin, who she had finally gathered the nerve to write about last night before dropping off the latest Whistledown at the printer.
Colin, who she had cried for the entire carriage ride home.
Colin, her sweet, beautiful Colin who only wanted friendship from her when she had secretly hoped for years that they were destined for so much more.
Perhaps that was it.
She wasn’t angry.
She was heartbroken.
Because somewhere in the depths of her, she had dared to believe that he loved her just as much as she loved him.
When Colin arrived home weeks later, he hired a carriage to take him directly from the docks to Bridgerton House, wanting to waste no time in dropping off his belongings and going across the street to find Penelope. It was evening as he approached, but he did not care - he would bribe the Featherington staff handsomely if he needed to just for the opportunity to see her, to know that she was alright.
As it turned out, no bribery was needed that night as he stepped into his own home and barrelled up the stairs to his room only to find Penelope in the hallway headed in the direction of Eloise’s door.
“Pen,” he gasped, and she looked at him with tears filling her eyes. “Pen, I missed you so much.”
She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
“You look well. I trust your travels were enjoyable?” Her voice was cold, but trembling.
“I am quite miserable, actually, and have been throughout my trip,” he said as he took a step toward her.
Stepping away from him, she walked to Eloise’s door without looking back.
“I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps sleep will help,” she choked out before disappearing behind his sister’s door as he dropped his forehead against the wall, a tear escaping his own eye.
When he settled into his own room to sleep, he had barely slipped away before beginning to dream of her, chasing her, always out of reach as he heard a voice permeating the space around him.
He would never court her.
He would never dream of it.
So what game is the handsome third Bridgerton playing at?
Is he merely being kind to a lady who is close to being on the shelf before he himself finds his pleasure in the diamond of the season?
If Colin Bridgerton is back in search of a wife, the only thing of which we can be certain is that it is not Penelope Featherington who has caught his eye.
It was the middle of the night when Penelope snuck to Colin’s study, having broken her quill writing and needing supplies and a few more minutes to finish the draft of Whistledown she had begun writing after seeing him a few hours prior. To her surprise, a lamp was already lit, though the room was empty. Colin must have been there during the night and left it on.
Moving to his desk, she found his journal open and sitting there, old entries that he must have been rereading. She knew she should not have read it, she had other options.
Close it.
Grab the quill and move along.
Simply make her exit, since she had not been invited into his study in the first place.
But she could not resist it, after not having spoken to him all summer and hearing now that he had missed her. She had a quiet moment with his innermost thoughts and she could not deny her need to know them. As she began to read, she found immediately that it was a tale of an intimate encounter, but she could not tear her eyes away, her eyes scanning over the text as she let out a gasp.
Descriptions of touching a woman in ways Penelope had only known of in her dreams.
Of his own disconnection.
His inability to look at the woman.
His own pain.
His own desire to feel when he could not seem to.
I wish that it had been Pen.
I quickly began to imagine that it was my sweet Penelope I was touching, holding, bringing to release. It was the only way to make it through, even if I could not find pleasure myself.
“What are you reading?” Colin’s voice cut through her as she backed away from the desk. “Is that my journal?”
How could any of this be? How could she dream what she knew not of, what Colin clearly did?
“I’m sorry, I must go,” she huffed out as she rushed by him, avoiding his face in the hopes that he would not see the panic in her own, the tears that she could not hold back as she ran from his study, too intent on her own escape to notice that she had left her own paper behind.
Penelope had seen his journal, seen how he felt about her, how he wanted her, and had run without even being willing to speak with him. Tears filled his eyes as he walked over and slammed his journal shut, rubbing the back of his neck before stopping short when he saw the parchment she had left sitting on his desk, a partially finished piece of work.
Letter?
Draft?
Column…
If Colin Bridgerton is back in search of a wife, the only thing of which we can be certain is that it is not Penelope Featherington who has caught his eye.
How could she have known what he dreamed?
But the ink was dry.
It was almost as though…
Colin looked out his window to see a downpour beginning and grabbed his journal and her half-finished parchment, running out of the room and taking the stairs two at a time to reach the front door as quickly as he could, throwing it open and running outside to her in the middle of the square.
“Penelope!” he yelled, her full name feeling both beautiful and strange on his lips as he rarely used it. “Wait!”
She stopped short and turned to face him, the rain soaking her as she stared in his direction as he held up both his journal and the paper, both now dripping wet in his hands.
“How did you write this?” he asked as he reached her, standing just a breath away.
“I am Lady Whistledown,” she said, her voice steady as her body shook.
“I have surmised that and do not care,” he said. “How did you write this? These words, when did you write them?”
“A few hours ago,” she said. “I was confused after speaking with you, because I… because it couldn’t be true-”
“Penelope, I dreamed this,” he yelled, and her eyes went wide, dropping to his journal and then back to his face. “I dreamed the very words you wrote.”
“Colin, I -” her voice cracked as she crumbled to the ground into a puddle, further drenching her dress as he dove down after her, kneeling in the standing water beside her and taking her face in his hands. Her clear blue eyes blinked up at him. “I dreamed the words in your journal.”
His mind was spinning, but he knew one thing and that was that she was cold and wet and it was still the middle of the night, and he had to get her somewhere safe.
“Come with me,” he whispered as he lifted her up, holding her hand tightly in his as he ran back to Bridgerton House and brought her in quietly up the stairs to his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he began to light a fire in his fireplace for her.
“Tell me what you have dreamed,” he said, tucking a curl behind her ear as she shivered by the fire.
“Always of you,” she whispered as she refused to meet his eyes.
That would not do.
He lifted her chin and ghosted his lips across her forehead, leaning in close to her ear.
“My dreams have always been of you, Pen. Each and every night since - “
“Since the day we met,” she whispered, and he nodded. “Mine as well. First of adventures with you, mostly on pirate ships. Then of your time at Eton, I could tell as they matched the letters you sent me. Then of us together in Greece. But lately,” her voice wandered off, and she blushed as he ran his thumb across her cheek, wishing he could feel it.
“Lately they have been different,” he finished for her, and she nodded.
“Colin, I believe you have written my dreams,” she said and his breath hitched. “Your pirate stories as a young boy - did they include me?”
“Yes,” he said. “Always. I wrote the first the day I met you, I believed we would be well-suited for adventures together.”
He looked into her eyes before the realization occurred to him.
“Pen, have you written mine as well?” Another tear rolled down her cheek and he held her closer. “I used to dream of you often, I could not participate and merely watched as the nightmares took place, your mother and sisters being unkind to you when I could not intervene to protect you.”
“My diary,” she whispered. “You dreamed my diary entries.”
“The night before your first ball the dreams changed, and I began to have dreams about all of the gossip, things I knew of from watching people with you but also things I had no business knowing.”
“Lady Whistledown,” she said and he laughed.
“It would seem so,” he said. “Penelope, the last dream I had before leaving to come back home, it was about me speaking to some other gentlemen about my intentions with you.”
Penelope sniffled and began to shift.
“I had to write it eventually, Colin. Others heard it - you were quite loud.”
“Pen, I am so sorry-” he began before she put her fingers to his lips.
“Please, Colin, please do not. You do not have to have feelings for me.”
He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her waist, earning her surprise as she looked up at him, placing her chin on his chest as she sighed.
“What if I did have feelings for you?” he asked before feeling her hands grip his sides, as though she was unsure whether to push him away or hold onto him more tightly.
“Colin, lately I have dreamed dreams that are more -”
“Intimate,” he whispered.
“Yes. But I was not an observer, I was present,” she said. “And enjoying it very much.”
He let out a chuckle at her unexpected admission.
“I am glad you enjoyed it. I always pretended it was you, Penelope. I should not have laid with them to begin with. I did what I thought I must, but I never felt anything, and I could not even get through the evening unless I envisioned you with me.”
“Why, Colin?”
“Because I do not believe I can experience such pleasure with anyone I do not love.”
“You love me?” Penelope’s hands ran up over the soaking wet shirt on his chest and into his hair, twirling and tugging slightly as he bit back a moan.
“I love you, Pen. I love you deeply and entirely, and I believe that I have done so for as long as I have known what love was and perhaps even before. It is okay if you do not feel the same, but you are everything. My dream, my adventure, my home. It has always been you.”
He closed his eyes, resting his lips on the top of her head for just a moment, a quiet moment in the middle of the unknown before she spoke again.
“Colin, it has always been you,” she whispered as his glassy eyes met hers once more, his breath hitching.
“Pen-” he exhaled.
“I have loved you since the moment you fell from your horse -”
“The moment you knocked me from my horse, you must mean.” His words were teasing, but the tears in his eyes told a different story.
Relief.
Reverence.
Love.
“From the moment I knocked you from your horse, I have loved you. As my friend for years, as the person I wished to have all of my adventures with. And then, as I grew older and had to put childhood dreams aside, the man I wished to hold, to cherish, to grow old with. Not only in my dreams at night, but in my every waking thought. You are the only one I have ever loved, Colin. It has always been you.”
“It has always been us. ”
“Colin and Penelope,” she whispered as she pulled him closer.
“Penelope and Colin,” he whispered back.
“Colin? Would you kiss me?”
Colin leaned down, sliding his hand across her jaw as she shivered in his arms before ghosting his lips across hers.
“I feared you would never ask,” he murmured before capturing her bottom lip gently, smiling at the way she chased him with her mouth as he pulled back from her.
“Why did you stop?” she pouted as he walked to his door, locking it as her eyes stayed fixated on him, pupils blown wide.
“We are soaking wet, my love,” he said. “We should remove these, do you not agree? I can find you something else to wear.”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “Yes, undress me.”
Colin groaned before spinning her around, his fingers working as quickly as they could on her wet laces as he untied her corset and removed her dress, her stays following until she was bare before him, her skin soft and rain-logged.
“Oh Pen,” he moaned as he leaned in to capture her lips once more, his hands soothing her sides and settling on her hips.
“May I?” she asked as she put her hands on his buttons. He swallowed and nodded as she began to unbutton him, her eyes tracing the hair on his chest as she stripped him, then reached for his waistband, removing his pants and freeing his erection.
“Oh, Colin,” she whispered as she took him in hand. “You’re beautiful.”
He reached down and scooped her up, relishing in her yelp as he lifted her.
“That is what I should be saying about you, my darling,” he said as he dropped his lips to the top of her breasts, kissing and nipping the soft skin there as she sighed.
He laid her down on his bed, placing her upon his pillow and seeing her shiver.
“Are you still cold?” he asked, and she nodded. He lowered himself to his forearms, kissing her deeply as their skin touched at every point, warming them both as they explored each other’s mouths, lips and tongues tentative and slow.
“You are far too good for this to be your first time kissing, Penelope,” he chastised jokingly as he rested his forehead against hers to catch his breath. She reached for his face with her hand, stroking his cheek with her fingers.
“I have kissed you so frequently in my dreams,” she whispered, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded.
“They were always meant to be yours, Pen,” he choked out, and she shook her head, quieting him with her finger against his lips…
“Make me yours, Colin.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple, then nibbled her earlobe.
“And I am yours, Penelope.”
She hummed and wove her fingers through his hair, gripping his chestnut waves and tugging just enough to send a new wave of desire coursing through him. Lowering himself to her neck, he nipped and sucked on the skin there as his hands made their way to her perfect breasts, swiping her nipples with his thumbs before twisting them gently between his thumbs and forefingers as she arched her back and thrust her body up against him from below, moaning loudly.
“Stay as quiet as you can, sweet girl,” he said as he moved his mouth to her nipple, suckling it gently as he circled it with his warm tongue. “I do not wish for us to have our time together cut short by nosy listeners.”
She bit her lip, and he frowned before he moved to her face, tugged her lip free with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue.
“Put your mouth on me if you desire,” he whispered. “Mark me if you must, I couldn’t bear for you to wound that sweet lip.”
Eyes hooded, she slid further beneath him, her hands gripping tightly to his side as she licked his chest, biting gently at his pec as he felt his arousal leaking from his tip.
“Oh gods, Pen, yes darling.”
The praise spurred her on as she pushed him gently onto his back, sliding quickly down to his cock and surging forward to lick the tip.
“Pen!” he cried out. “Darling, please let me take care of you first.”
“You’ve written about it,” she said softly. “Let me taste you.”
“Let me taste you,” he countered without thinking, offering an act he had never done but very much wanted to do with her. Her eyes widened.
“Is that… is that done?” she swallowed, and he pulled her up his body to straddle his hips.
“Y-yes. It is quite intimate and I’ve never -”
“Yes,” she sighed, and he laughed. “I mean, if you would like to try. Might we… taste together?”
She blushed, this darling girl who was straddling him nude, and he bucked up against her as she moaned.
“Turn around” he rasped out and she obeyed, turning to face away from him as he ran his hands down the curve of her back, gripping her ass and letting out a sigh before grasping her by the thighs and sliding her sweet center up his chest to his mouth, licking a stripe up her folds as his name tumbled from her lips.
Moments later he felt it - her warm, wet mouth enveloping his tip. He muffled his own moans against her, licking and sucking as she did the same, swirling his tongue around her sensitive nub as she slid further down his length until he felt himself touch the back of her throat.
“Pen, oh Pen,” he mumbled as he licked her, inserting two fingers into her center as she wrapped her hand around the rest of his member she could not take into her throat. He squeezed and massaged her bottom with his large hands, rewarding her as best he could as he sucked her pearl as hard as he could over and over again until she shattered, her arousal coating his lips and chin as she trembled. He pulled her from his member and turned her, kissing her soundly as she came down from her peak.
“Colin, you did not find your release,” she whined, and he shook his head.
“Penelope Featherington, will you marry me?”
She laughed and nodded, taking his chin in her hands as she peppered kisses all over his face.
“I hoped so. If we are to be wed, may I give you everything, Pen?”
A tear ran down her cheek as she nodded, rolling onto her back as he leaned above her.
“If I enter you in this way, the way a man lies with his wife, we could come to be with child. If you do not wish for that to be a possibility, please tell me and we will not do this.”
“I wish for this, Colin. I wish to lie with you. I wish to be your wife. I wish to have children with you, to raise our family, to grow old in each other’s arms. I wish for everything with you.”
“I wish to give you all you desire for all of our days,” he whispered back to her, kissing her gently as he lined himself up at her entrance. He locked his gaze with hers, searching her eyes as she ran her fingertips along his shoulder. “Ready, darling?”
“Yes,” she exhaled, nodding with a small smile as he pushed himself inside her slowly, giving her time to adjust, little by little until he was fully sheathed within her warmth.
“Are you alright, Pen?” It took every ounce of self-control he had to hold himself together as he waited for her, but he would. He would wait forever for her if she needed him to.
After a few minutes of nothing but their breathing, she swallowed and nodded, opening her eyes and staring into his.
“Yes, Colin. Move,” she begged and he slid himself out to her entrance, then thrust back in and watched as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Oh.”
“Oh, Pen,” he sighed before leaning to kiss her through his next thrusts. “So beautiful. So good.”
He picked up the pace, dragging in and out of her as she lifted her hips to match him, her mouth dropped open and her eyelids heavy as she gasped softly.
He closed his eyes and felt her hand on his cheek, reopening them slowly to find her glassy eyes pleading with him.
“Stay,” she breathed out, and he furrowed his brow.
“I’m here,” he said between thrusts.
“Stay here,” she sighed, and he shook his head.
“Stay, Colin,” she gasped, twisting her fingers in his hair. “In this moment. With me.”
He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he leaned to plant kisses on her face and nuzzle his nose against her own.
“Always,” he murmured against her lips. “Always, Pen.”
His thrusts became messy and uncoordinated as he his tongue entered her mouth, and his hand snaked between them to find her pearl, grounding himself in the way her body began to shake, in the scrape of her nails on the back of his neck, of the smell of citrus and jasmine and Penelope that surrounded him as he felt his own release building.
In the way she clenched around him, milking his own release from him as she found hers, hands on his cheeks as he stared into her eyes and murmured her name as they floated away.
Turning them gently so he could remove his weight from her, he felt her tremble and begin to shiver as he left her, whether from the emptiness or the cold.
Perhaps both.
He pulled her close to his chest, wrapping them both in his blankets as he kissed her forehead and stroked her back, thanking the universe for her as she slowly came back to him. He felt a gentle kiss against his chest and lifted her chin, tilting her face up to let him whisper his love against her lips before resting his forehead against hers.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered, and she giggled.
“It was wonderful. You’re astonishing,” she said before tucking herself under his chin.
“You are special to me,” he murmured as they drifted off to sleep.
They both dreamed that evening, of cobblestone streets and sandy beaches.
Of walking them hand in hand.
Of little children with red ringlets and chestnut waves and big blue eyes playing pirates.
Of stolen touches long past and sweet kisses still to come.
In the morning, the sunlight danced through his window as he heard a pounding on his bedroom door, jolting him awake and seeing Pen’s eyes shoot open as she pulled closer to him.
“You will protect me?” she asked teasingly, batting her eyelashes at him as he bit back a laugh.
“Always, sweet Penelope,” he said earnestly as he kissed her slowly, ignoring Anthony’s ire.
“I know she is in there with you, Colin!” he yelled out. “I hope you plan to marry her!”
“Oh, I do,” he murmured as she giggled against his lips. “As soon as she’ll have me.”
Penelope bit her lip.
“Would it be alright if we made him wait five more minutes?” she raised an eyebrow at him.
He leaned in and nuzzled her temple.
“Maybe ten,” he whispered as she erupted in laughter before he swallowed it with kisses.