A Daring Deception

by Trentham, Laura

  He cursed himself for scaring her, not wanting to rouse any comparison to Goforth. Gently, he raised the sleeve of her dress. He’d only seen a small part of the bruise. The imprint of all four of Goforth’s fingers was visible in purple against her pale skin.

  “Oh, that.” Sounding strangely relieved, she pushed her sleeve back down to cover the travesty. “It’s nothing.”

  “Does this happen often?”

  “No.” Her answer was firm even as she didn’t meet his gaze.

  “I’ll call him out.” He surprised himself with the declaration.

  “If you weren’t aware, it’s perfectly legal for him to treat me as he wishes.”

  “It’s not honorable.”

  “While I appreciate your concern, I do not expect you to defend my honor, Your Grace. Good evening.” She slipped around him and retreated to her room. The door closed firmly in his face.

  Miss Tremaine had the right of it. It was not his place to defend her, but he could corner Goforth for a discussion on the morrow. But the evening was now his, and his mind turned from avenging the honor of one lady to possibly compromising another.

  Chapter 13

  Once Jessica was safely in her room, she covered her face and took a deep breath. She’d thought Simon had seen through her ruse. Is there anything you wish to tell me, Miss Tremaine? The cold fury in the question had set her knees to quivering.

  Relief had poured through her when she’d understood the bruises on her arm were his focus. He’d offered to call Goforth out. For her. Miss Tremaine, not Abby Blackwell. Why? His intense dislike of Goforth was unmatched except by Goforth’s hatred of Simon.

  A scratch signaled the arrival of the real Miss Blackwell. Abby helped her remove her dress and stays, and then Jessica fobbed her off for the evening after giving her the book she’d promised.

  It took Jessica another quarter hour to wash the paint off her face and the soot from her hair. After loosely braiding the thick mass and tying it off with a yellow ribbon, she pulled on the same dress she’d worn the past two evenings with Simon.

  The sight of herself in the looking glass stopped her short. She did look like a different woman. Not so much because of her clothes or hair, but the spark in her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d felt such excitement and… hope.

  Hope was a dangerous thing. Despair inevitably followed, the void deep and dark. Her mother had fallen inside and had been unable to climb out again. She was a warning. Yet Jessica couldn’t stop herself from reaching for just a scrap of happiness.

  She slipped down the servants’ stairs and through the kitchen, keeping her head down to avoid Mrs. Potts and her knowing looks and well-meaning lectures. Once outside, she headed to the stables. The chuff of horses greeted her. No sign of Simon.

  A young boy carrying a heavy pail of oats shuffled out of a storage area, his arms straining. “Hullo, miss. Are you needing something?”

  “I was wondering if you’d seen the duke this evening.”

  “’Fraid not.” He continued down the row of stalls. The disappointment was sharp enough to bring a sting of tears to her eyes. The boy made a sound of surprise. “But his ’orse is gone, miss. Not sure when that ’appened.”

  The whiplash of emotions was dizzying. Could she find the meadow? After thanking the boy, she set off. The full moon gilded the grass along the path. Leaves rustled as if whispering secrets of the universe. The water of a large pond rippled in the moonlight. Reality receded. She had stepped into a magical world, and anything could happen with the help of a bit of magic.

  The nicker of a horse set her feet moving even faster toward her destiny. Simon stood in the middle of the meadow, holding a set of reins in one hand and stroking the cheek of a horse with the other.

  He was hatless and coatless, but he wore the same waistcoat from dinner. The sleeves of his shirt were folded up his forearms. His hair gleamed gold, and the horse shone silver under the moon. Jessica wouldn’t have been shocked to see the single horn of a unicorn.

  One step into the meadow might take her straight into the land of the fae, where anything could happen. Did she dare? She shifted, and a twig cracked underfoot. Both man and beast swung their attention to her. The die was cast.

  “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said softly, as if the same spell affected him.

  “I tried to stay away.” She stepped farther into the meadow.

  “What changed your mind?” He dropped the reins and met her halfway. His horse didn’t move except to bend his head to snuffle at the grass.

  The truth was entwined with her life. Her real life. “I suppose I’m a fool.”

  His smile flashed white in a shaft of moonlight. “Then count me the same. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  “Nor I you.” It felt good to finally admit a truth. “I even dreamed of you last night.”

  Her confession galvanized him, and he moved to take her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along the backs. It was too easy to cast the complications of the outside world aside in the moonlight with her hands in his.

  Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his. He dipped his head to increase the pressure of the kiss, and she met him more than halfway, winding her arms around his neck. Only then did he crush her closer and deepen the kiss.

  This time she didn’t start when his tongue demanded entrance. She welcomed him. Their quickened breaths mingled, and her heart paced along, pounding hard against her ribs. Arousal streaked through her and incinerated the few inhibitions she had left.

  Simon skimmed his hands to her bottom and squeezed before snugging her against his pelvis. His touch turned her bones molten. She let her head fall back, and he kissed down her neck, nipping the tendon where her neck met her shoulder. Tingles skittered through her.

  The iron bar of his arousal pressed against her belly. It frightened her, yet her legs rocked apart instinctively. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the edge of the trees where the sweet scent of pines hovered. A blanket was spread out along with a basket.

  He laid her in the middle of the blanket and draped himself over her, his leg notched between hers, his arms braced on either side of her. His weight anchored her, and his face hovered over hers, blocking the moon and casting his expression in mystery.

  She closed her eyes instead of attempting to guess his thoughts. He swooped down and captured her mouth in slow, drugging kisses. He hiked his knee higher until it bumped between her legs. Sensation tremored through her, and he caught her gasp with another kiss and an answering groan.

  He kissed across her jaw to nibble the sensitive skin behind her ear. “You are so sweet, love.”

  The endearment sent a warm flutter through her chest. She could never truly be his love, but in this moment, she felt cared for in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Even more, she felt seen.

  A tug on the front of her dress had her tensing. His fingers were at her bodice, slipping one button after another free until the night air caressed her skin. He shifted to slide his lips down her neck, peeling her dress apart as he descended until he laid a kiss at the edge of her chemise.

  “May I?” His whisper was gruff.

  She could refuse. She should refuse. He would stop, button her dress, and not touch her again if she so wished it. There was power in the knowledge that what happened next was her choice. How could she let the opportunity for a moment of happiness slip away? As long as she remembered the moment and the happiness were fleeting.

  “You may.” Her voice was reedy thin with anticipation and nerves.

  He released a long, slow breath before tugging at the ribbon drawing the neck of her chemise closed. The loose cotton slipped away and left her vulnerable.

  “Even lovelier than I dreamed.” His words gave her the courage to look down.

  A shaft of moonlight over his shoulder cast her bare skin in silvery light. Her nipples were budded against the gentle breeze and under his attention. Her breasts ached, an
d she arched her back, not sure how to ask for what she needed.

  He cupped one of her breasts and squeezed. That’s what she needed and more. “Yes, Simon. Please.”

  “Hearing my name on your lips is almost more than I can bear.” He captured her nipple between his lips.

  The action was so unexpected, she jerked. His laugh sent warm air across her nipple. Her shiver turned into spiraling pleasure. He sucked at her breast while his tongue worked wicked magic. She threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair and tugged. His hum of masculine pleasure sent vibrations traveling like an earthquake to between her legs. He pinched her unattended nipple.

  Never had she imagined a man would behave so with a lady. Except… she wasn’t a lady in his eyes. She was merely a maid to be used and discarded. Squirming, not knowing whether to push him away or clutch him tighter, she asked, “Is this how a gentleman acts with a lady?”

  He raised his head to meet her gaze. “This is how a man acts with a woman. There are no distinctions when it comes to love.”

  It wasn’t love. It was sex. Even knowing this, she didn’t stop him when he flicked his tongue across her nipple. It felt too delicious. As long as she didn’t completely lose her head, no one would know of this indiscretion.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, broad and flexed with hard muscle. His collar was loose, and she slipped her hands inside to coast over the bare skin of his shoulder and upper chest. Coarse hair tickled her palm as her fingers glanced over his nipple. It was a flat disk with a barely perceptible peak. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was as sensitive as hers. She tweaked it.

  He grunted and sucked her breast more strongly into his hot mouth. Although it seemed impossible, her pleasure ramped up to a new level, and the ridge against her thigh grew even harder. He shifted fully between her legs, and the iron bar pressed against her throbbing core.

  He rocked once, twice, and she raised her knees to clamp his hips with a throaty moan she barely recognized as hers. With a curse, he tore his mouth away from her breast and came up on all fours, still over her. The sudden loss of his heat and hardness was like a dunk in cold water.

  “What’s wrong? Please, sir.” She pulled at his flanks, beyond embarrassment at her begging.

  “Sir?” he asked on what might be construed as a laugh, but it was a self-deprecating one. He rolled off her and sat at her hip, his arms propped on his knees. “I refuse to take advantage of you.”

  After pushing herself to sitting, she tied the ribbon of her chemise with shaking fingers and closed her dress with her fists, the buttons too complicated with her wits burned to ashes. Anger, humiliation, and despair crowded out her arousal.

  He turned and brushed her hands aside. “Allow me this.”

  She hung her head while he buttoned her up like a child. “I’m sorry.”

  His hands stilled on the last button before finishing and smoothing his palms over her shoulders. “Why are you apologizing? I should be the one begging your forgiveness.”

  She glanced up at him through her lashes. “Why would I need to forgive you?”

  “Because I am the experienced one, and you are the innocent. Not only that, but I am a duke, and you are a maid. I fear I was ready to take terrible advantage of you.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you take me.” Was that true though? Lost in the maelstrom, she would have let him do anything as long as it satisfied the ache plaguing her.

  “Tonight was supposed to be about wooing and charming you.”

  “Was this not the point of wooing me?” She gestured to them and the blanket.

  “Actually, no, it wasn’t,” he said on a slight chuckle. “Believe it or not, I had something slightly more gentlemanly in mind.”

  “Only slightly?” She shot him a wry smile.

  “Very slightly.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “But let’s not discuss it now. I brought you here to ride, remember?” After a beat of silence, he burst into laughter. “That was awkward phrasing. I apologize.”

  Jessica shook her head, unwilling to admit she didn’t understand what he meant. “The offer wasn’t a ruse to get me under the moon on a blanket?”

  “As a matter of fact, no. Would you like to ride or eat? I brought sweet buns and champagne.”

  “Getting tipsy before climbing six feet off the ground wouldn’t be wise.”

  “As usual, you are correct. Your lesson then.” He stood and held a hand out to her.

  She reached for him and tried not to think about what that hand and those fingers had done to her body. He lifted her to her feet with little effort and led her to his horse. On closer inspection, the horse had lost its magical appearance. Its coat was more gray than silver.

  Her knees quivered, partly from his attentions, but mostly at the thought of climbing into the saddle. “I’m not sure about this.”

  “Of course you aren’t. It’s a new, scary experience, but it’s quite invigorating, I assure you. Trust me. I’ll keep you safe.” His solemnness made it sound like a vow.

  Were they still discussing horses? “I do trust you.” Except her voice had lilted what should have been a statement into almost a question.

  His mouth firmed into a frown. Was he disappointed in her answer? Her head was well aware that trusting Simon would be a mistake. It was her heart that was ready to make any sacrifice for him.

  He stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. “I will attempt not to abuse your trust.”

  Attempting not to abuse her trust was not the same thing as not abusing it. She broke eye contact and petted the neck of the horse. “What is its name?”

  “Moonlight.”

  An incredulous laugh escaped. “You are jesting.”

  “No, indeed. She is the progeny of Starlight, the jewel of Lord Wyndam’s stable. I paid dearly for her and have never regretted it. She’s intelligent and gentle and a joy.” He cupped his hands for her foot. “You’ll have to ride astride, so throw your leg over. Up you go.”

  “But I might dirty your hands.” Would he notice her slippers?

  He threw his head back and laughed. The deep, chesty rumble made her feel like wagging her tail like a puppy begging for a pat. “Believe it or not, I’ve mucked stables, built stone walls, and trimmed the hedges. I can handle a little dirt on my hands.”

  Unable to produce an excuse, she raised her skirts and fit her slippered foot into his hands. Then she had no time to worry over her footwear, because he launched her upward. She clutched at his shoulders for balance.

  “The saddle. Take hold and throw your leg over.” His voice didn’t sound strained from holding her up.

  She did as he commanded, and her weight shifted. Her bottom hit the saddle, and she panicked a moment when it seemed she would slide off the other side, but Simon had hold of her leg and steadied her.

  Simon fit her foot into the stirrup and thankfully made no comment on her choice of footwear. She shook her skirts as far over her legs as possible, which was almost to her ankles. The dress was cut for a servant’s ease of movement and not a ton ballroom. Simon handed her the reins and made his way around to adjust the other stirrup. His touch was deft and impersonal.

  “What now?” She peered down at Simon and held the reins in a death grip.

  “Now I’ll lead you around the meadow.” He took the bridle and walked to the right of the horse’s head, glancing behind him to check on her. The moon cast dappled shadows over the ground. After three circuits of the meadow, the tension holding her ramrod straight in the saddle receded when it became clear the horse wasn’t going to buck her off or bolt.

  He gave her rudimentary instructions on how to hold the reins. “Now turn to the left toward the middle of the clearing.”

  It took the lightest touch for the horse to shift directions. “I did it!”

  “See, not so difficult.” He stepped back and propped his fists on his hips.

  “You let go.” She tightened her grip on the reins, and Moon
light stopped and tossed her head.

  “Don’t panic. Loosen your hands. She won’t bolt. She’s too well trained.” Simon touched her knee. “Would you like to take a short ride through the woods?”

  “It’s too dark.”

  “I know the way. Kick your feet out of the stirrups and scoot forward.”

  She did as he instructed, and before she could do more than gasp, he mounted behind her, snugging her into his chest. She swallowed at the feel of him behind her. It was positively indecent and highly enjoyable.

  He took the reins from her hand, and seemingly without giving her direction, Moonlight set off toward a path on the far side of meadow.

  Under the canopy of trees, only faint light shone, but the darkness didn’t bother Simon or the horse. Simon’s arm banded around her waist.

  “Will Queen Mab or Oberon snatch us away, do you think?” he whispered while his lips glanced over her ear.

  She shivered and let her head loll back against him. “I would love to be spirited away from my life.”

  He tightened his arm. “You told me Miss Tremaine is kind. Is she not?”

  Hearing her actual name on his lips was startling. “No, she’s kind.”

  “It’s Goforth then. Does he hurt you like he does his stepdaughter?”

  Her breathing became constricted. She hadn’t expected her realities to interconnect so starkly. “No. I’m beneath his notice.” That was true for the real Abby, thank the heavens.

  “I saw bruises on Miss Tremaine’s arm from Goforth’s rough handling. You must have seen the same.”

  She swallowed and stopped the compulsion to touch the bruises before he began to suspect the truth. “There’s little I can do except comfort her.”

  “He’s a bastard and deserves to be whipped.” The outrage in his voice brought tears to her eyes. The last time she’d had such a champion had been… him years ago at the inn.

  “I have to believe Goforth will get what he deserves,” she said.

  “You have more faith in the fates than I.”

  No, Jessica had faith in herself and her lust for revenge. A light shone through the woods. She blinked, wondering if they really had found a fairy’s house. “What is that?”