“Not laughing now, are you?” he growled as his hand slid down between their bodies to nestle between her legs. When his thumb flicked out she buried her face in his neck to muffle her cry of ecstasy, and with another growl he stroked her again, and again, until she was writhing helplessly against him, eyes glassy and slender arms trembling as he ruthlessly drove her higher, higher, higher, until he shoved her over the edge of the cliff and she fell into the sun.
Chapter Eight
So that, Kitty thought with a satisfied sigh, is what it feels like to be ravished.
She’d often wondered if the act would live up to the expectation. Particularly since all of her previous experiences – save the kiss in the meadow – had fallen disappointingly short. The lukewarm, unsatisfying encounters she’d shared with past suitors had more often resembled a robin pecking frantically at a worm. They could have checked every single box on her list and she still would have been left feeling as if something were missing, because what Kitty wanted (and hadn’t realized until this very moment) was passion. True, feel-it-in-the-tips-of-her-toes (not to mention other, more sensitive places) passion.
The kind she had only experienced with Byron.
The kind she only wanted to experience with Byron.
Because he was her final choice. Her perfect husband. Her duke of desire. Her grumpy ghost. And while love and lust had been noticeably absent on her long list of prerequisites, they weren’t any longer. Now they were the most important boxes she could possibly imagine, for without love and passion what were you left with?
A title was all well and good, and Kitty knew she’d make a fabulous duchess. Wealth was certainly nothing to be sneezed at, and heavens knew handsomeness was not to be overlooked. But at the end of the day, if those things were somehow stripped away, there needed to be something more.
And she’d found that something more with Byron.
He just didn’t know it yet.
Knuckles scraping lightly against the brick as she stretched her arms above her head in a long, luxurious stretch, she slanted Byron a smirking grin from beneath her lashes. He, of course, scowled, which only caused Kitty’s affection for him to grow. Who’d ever thought her heart would stumble for an auburn-haired duke with a surly disposition who abhorred social functions of any kind?
Well, the duke part was a given. But as to the rest…suffice it to say she just hoped their children didn’t have red hair. The poor dears. Because if they had red hair they’d probably have freckles, and then what would she do with them?
Love them, Kitty realized with a flicker of surprise. She would love them, because appearances weren’t everything and there were more important things in life than the color of one’s hair.
Goodness.
What a peculiar thought.
Nose wrinkling, she lowered her arms and stepped away from the wall. Byron watched her warily, like a feral dog might watch a stranger trying to offer it food, and it was all Kitty could do not to roll her eyes in exasperation. Thankfully she managed to restrain herself, and instead turned her attention to the village clock tower.
“Oh my, would you look at the time. I’d best be going.” Straightening her hat and shaking out her skirts, she proceeded to do just that, until Byron’s hand on her arm stopped her short. Glancing first at his fingers wrapped round her forearm and then up into his blue eyes dark with untold emotions, she fluttered her lashes and asked sweetly, “Is there something else?”
“That’s it?” he demanded. “You’re just going to – to leave?”
Kitty arched a brow. “Indeed. Unless, of course, you’d like to propose…?” She let the question linger and held her breath. It’d be so much easier if Byron would simply get down on his knee and asked her to marry him now. She’d still go through with the house party, naturally. Kitty never stood up a good house party. But at least she would attend with peace of mind knowing that she was betrothed to the host. Perhaps they could even change it into an engagement soiree! A lovely thought, albeit one that rapidly dissipated when Byron frowned at her.
“Propose what?” he said blankly.
“Marriage.” You insufferable dolt. “A proposal of marriage.”
Kitty tried not to take personal offense when he released her arm as though it had suddenly caught fire and leapt away from her as if she had suddenly caught leprosy.
“A proposal of – no, that isn’t going to – that is to say, I never…” For the first time since they’d met the Duke of Wakefield was visibly flustered, and Kitty found her injured feelings somewhat bolstered by his stumbling tongue. Until he collected himself, folded his arms, and glowered at her, that is. “Was this your plan all along? To lure me out into an alley in an effort to trap me into marriage?” A snarl twisted his mouth. “If so, it is not going to work.”
“Your Grace.” It was with considerable effort that Kitty reminded herself a lady caught more cantankerous dukes with honey than she did with vinegar. Although if she had any vinegar in hand she would have been well tempted to dump it on his head. Maybe the fumes would knock some sense into him.
“You darling man,” she cooed, patting his chest. “If I wanted to trap you, I would. But contrary to what you seem to believe, I do not want a marriage through deception.”
Which, admittedly, wasn’t completely true. After all, the only reason she was here in the first place was to distract him while two dozen guests descended upon his estate. But planning a house party and engineering a scheme to trap him into marriage by unfair means were two completely different things. Honestly, she was a little miffed he’d ever think her capable of the latter.
Not that the thought had never crossed her mind. But while Kitty had tiptoed along the line more times than she cared to admit, she’d never crossed it and had no intention of doing so now. When she won Byron’s love she would do it on her own merit, not through lies and deceit. Honestly, what did he think – that she had her mother lurking in the shadows, ready to leap out and yell, ‘Marry my daughter, you fiend!’ if their passion went too far?
Men.
How they’d come to rule the world Kitty really hadn’t a clue.
“Then what do you want?” said Byron roughly, nostrils flaring as he glared down at her. Even in his anger she could still feel his desire for her. It pulsed through his body and into hers, causing the damp place between her thighs to ache and her nipples to harden.
She inadvertently glanced down when she felt the flushed nubs brush against the bodice of her dress. Following her stare, Byron’s jaw clenched when he saw the blatant evidence of her arousal. Kitty tilted her chin and met his fierce gaze unabashedly, refusing to be ashamed or embarrassed over her body’s reaction to passion.
“I think that’s fairly obvious, don’t you?” She cleared a small path through the wig powder covering his waistcoat as she trailed a single fingertip over the tightened muscles of his abdomen to the impressive bulge straining against the front seams of his trousers. A coy smirk teasing the corners of her lips, she began to explore the outline of his cock before he grabbed her wrist with a sharp breath and yanked her arm up.
“You’re too bold by far, Lady Katherine,” he hissed.
She tossed back her head. “You say that as if it is a bad thing.”
“With you, it is.” His grip softened, but he didn’t immediately release her. Instead he stared hard at her for several seconds, as if trying to discern her innermost thoughts. Then with an indecipherable mutter he let her go and turned around, shoulders tense beneath the elegant line of his emerald tailcoat.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Kitty said quietly.
“Do what?” he bit out without looking at her. She started to reach for him, only to curl her hand into a fist and tuck it behind her back instead. There was a time to touch the wolf and a time to keep your fingers to yourself for fear of having them snapped off, and Kitty instinctively sensed they were dangerously close to finger chewing territory.
“Pull away when
you start to feel emotion.” She paused. “Is it what you learned to do when you were young? Or is it something you were taught?” After many a sleepless night spent gazing at the ceiling, she’d come to suspect there was something in Byron’s past that was responsible for his actions in the present. A traumatic event. The unexpected loss of a loved one. The curt dismissal of a parent, perhaps.
Something had caused this coldness in him. She’d seen just enough glimpses of warmth to know he was capable of feeling much more than he let on, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had caused him to be so purposefully distant. But if she was hoping for an easy answer she was destined for disappointment, for with a wolfish snarl Byron whirled and pinned to the spot with an icy gaze that sent an inadvertent shiver racing down her spine.
“That’s none of your bloody business.” In two strides he was in front of her, his hand holding her chin, his mouth a hair’s breadth from her own. She thought he might kiss her again. She wanted him to kiss her again. But with a curse he walked away, leaving her to stare with narrowed eyes at his retreating back until she heard her name being called from the opposite end of the alley.
“There you are.” Blonde curls in a state of disarray beneath her straw hat, Regina started to walk past the alley only to stop short when she saw her friend standing in the middle of it. “Where have you been?” Lugging in an impressive number of bags and parcels wrapped in brown paper, she set them down with an exhausted sigh and blew a curl out of her eyes. “You bought up the entire store and then you disappeared. I’ve been looking for you for ages.”
“Oh it hasn’t been that long,” Kitty scoffed.
“Ages,” Regina repeated. “What have you been doing?”
Kitty bit her lip. It still tasted of sin and secrets and seduction. “Nothing of importance,” she said evasively as she gathered up half the packages and they set off towards Regina’s carriage. Usually Kitty was not one to withhold details, particularly details of a salacious nature, but she already knew what her friend would say and, to be quite blunt, she didn’t want to hear it.
She knew kissing the Duke of Wakefield again hadn’t been the most advisable thing to do. Neither was planning a house party without his knowledge – or consent. But then she’d never been one for strictly following the rules. Why start now?
“Does this have anything to do with the invitation we received to the Duke of Wakefield’s estate?” Regina asked suspiciously as they set off towards Glenmoore Manor. “Andrew was rather surprised to receive it.”
Feigning interest in one of the bags, Kitty opened it up and removed a paisley shawl. She rubbed the soft cotton fabric against her cheek. “And why would that be?”
“Because the Duke of Wakefield doesn’t invite people to his estate. And he certainly doesn’t host parties.” Regina clasped her hands together. “Kitty, what have you done this time? I know you fancy the duke, but I don’t want you to have false expectations. From everything I’ve seen and heard he is not amendable to a courtship, let alone a marriage.”
Kitty lowered the shawl. “Oh, I think he is more amendable than he lets on. Not to worry,” she said cheerfully when Regina started to protest. “I know exactly what I am doing.”
“I know,” the Duchess of Glenmoore sighed. “That’s what worries me.”
“MARGARET! MARY! MADELINE! Get down here this instant!” Byron’s roar echoed through the mansion. Inside their old nursery where they’d been hiding for the better part of the morning, all three sisters visibly winced.
“Do you think he’s seen the guests?” Margaret whispered, blue eyes wide and fearful.
“I don’t think he would yell like that if he’d just stubbed his toe.” Madeline nibbled her bottom lip. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“Good idea or not, what’s done is done. Chins up,” Mary ordered as she lifted her own. “This is our house as much as it is his and we are well within our rights to throw a party if we so choose. Really, what does he expect? That we’d just willfully closet ourselves away until the next Season? We need this as much as he does. And if it’s a total disaster we’ll just blame everything on Margaret.” She grinned at her youngest sister’s horrified expression. “Everyone knows he loves you the best. Come along, girls. Time to face the music.”
Byron was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. All of the guests – fourteen, to be precise, comprised of various lord and ladies from surrounding estates – had been ushered out onto the side lawn to enjoy light refreshments and freshly squeezed lemonade. Lady Katherine Dower wasn’t among them – yet.
They’d unanimously decided it would be best if she stayed away until tomorrow. To let the dust settle and all that. But her room was ready, and her Aunt Tabitha (who would be coming for a visit just in time to play the part of chaperone) had a room ready as well. There was a fox hunt planned, and afternoon tea in the parlor, and a small musicale where Madeline would sing. A trip to the village as well, and a venture out to the orchards to bob for apples. There was even a grand ball to be held on the very last night. But none of it would happen if they failed to convince Byron not to end the house party before it had even begun. And if his stormy countenance was any indication, it was going to be an uphill battle.
“What is Lord Bancroft doing standing underneath my oak tree?” he demanded, arms crossed formidably across his chest as he glared at each sister in turn.
“It’s rather sunny out and he has a very light complexion?” Margaret suggested timidly.
Byron’s growl had her scurrying behind Mary, who rolled her eyes and stepped forward, thoroughly unimpressed with her brother’s churlish antics. He may have looked as fiercesome as a bear, but beneath all that gruff and growling was a man who had devoted his life to caring for his siblings. And no matter how many times he threatened, she knew he wasn’t really going to ship them off to boarding school in America.
Or at least she sincerely hoped.
“We invited him,” she said, refusing to flinch when the full weight of Byron’s furious stare fell upon her. “We invited everyone. They will be here for the next fortnight.”
“The devil they will,” Byron snapped. “I want them gone at once.”
“Must you be such an ogre?” said Madeline. “It’s just a house party with friends.”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t have any friends.”
“You do.” This from Margaret, who had gathered to the courage to step out from behind Mary. “I know you’re rather fond of the Duke and Duchess of Glenmoore. They’ll attend for a few days before they set out for their honeymoon, and Lady Katherine will – ouch,” she gasped when Mary stomped unexpectedly on her foot. Then she paled. “Oh no. I forgot we weren’t to say anything.”
“What does Lady Katherine have to do with all this?” Byron stepped closer, eyes glittering with suspicion beneath drawn eyebrows. “Better yet, how do you know who Lady Katherine is?”
“We met somewhere sometime at someplace.” Mary gave a careless flick of her wrist. “I can’t remember the details. It really isn’t important. What is important is this house party. We need this, By. We need to socialize and talk to our peers and hear news from London. We’re not little girls anymore, content to sit idly by and count the ducks on the pond while High Society goes on without us.”
“Please let us have the party,” Madeline implored.
“It will mean ever so much,” Margaret added.
Faced with three sets of wide, pleading blue eyes, Byron gave one last growl before he threw up his hands. “Fine,” he allowed, and Mary squealed as Madeline clapped her hands together and did a tiny hop.
“Thank you,” they cried in unison, flinging themselves into their brother’s arms. Margaret stayed back, guilt weighing down her excitement.
She wanted the house party. She truly did. Perhaps not as much as her sisters, but she was happy they were happy. Still, she couldn’t help but feel bad about deceiving Byron. If only they could tell him the truth…but she knew if the
y did that then he would almost certainly cancel everything, and all of their efforts – not to mention Kitty’s – would go to waste.
Her cheeks filled with air as she expelled a breath. No, she decided, this was the only way to do it. The only way to give their brother a genuine chance at his own happily-ever-after. And whether it was with Kitty or someone else, surely this was a step in the right direction. Because as much as he wanted to, Byron couldn’t keep hiding in the shadows forever.
As the youngest sibling, Margaret had been around their father the least, but she’d always been capable of great empathy, and she’d felt the hurt their brother had been forced to endure even before she accidentally saw the bruises.
It had been late, and storming, and she’d been trying to sneak into his room which wasn’t allowed, but he always let her in because he knew she was afraid. Except this time his door had been closed, and when she opened it a crack she’d seen why.
The scene was something Margaret knew she would never forget. Byron, a quiet, reserved boy of fourteen years, sitting in the middle of the floor in a pool of cold moonlight without his shirt.
He was crying. She remembered thinking how odd it was to see him cry, especially since he wasn’t making a sound. Then her gaze landed on the dark bruising covering his skinny ribcage. And it had followed the bruises all the way over his shoulder and down his back where they culminated in a vicious circle of black and green.
Margaret had closed the door without a sound. And she’d never spoken of what she’d seen to anyone. Not even him. But she knew the bruises weren’t the last he had suffered, just as she knew they suddenly stopped appearing after their father died.
It would take a bright light to drive out the darkness that had been beaten into Byron’s soul. She knew he believed the answer was to stay closed off. To keep himself and those he loved removed from the world and the ills within it. But loneliness only created more loneliness, and darkness festered in the shadows.
The Autumn Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 4) Page 7
