One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “Raven advised a maid is available to each of you. While I don’t need a valet, he has provided me with one. Interestingly, there are no vails required either. He pays his staff well and does not believe in the tradition of gratuities after a visit. Novel, isn’t it? It makes one want to enjoy his generous hospitality.”

  Samantha returned upstairs and explained her findings to Lady Minerva. “Aunt, there should be a gift from the family, but I would like to give him a special gift. It has to be something personal, something he’ll remember me by.” Her voice trailed off as she went to her room.

  Her aunt said, “I think he will remember you, Samantha. Now hurry and get dressed. We have much to do. There’s excitement in my old bones. Lady Margaret and I will recall so many memories. Perhaps her age has mellowed her. Don’t forget to bring your emeralds. Russian Prince or not, he would have to pay a small fortune for such well-cut stones, or ask his aunt to disclose the location of the Russian crown jewels.”

  Samantha sighed, “Aunt, you are impossible, but I love you. Yes, I will bring the jewels, and you will exercise care with the pistol in your reticule. I don’t think Raven would appreciate our use of his manor house for target practice.”

  “Nonsense, child, I will use it only if provoked. Though I do have a fondness for Russian men, they can be so romantically uncivilized.”

  ****

  Raven arrived in London and called upon the Winston household to deliver the invitations to the family in person, an unheard of circumstance. Samantha stood in the garden in a dress of light blue muslin embroidered with violets. Soft curls framed her face.

  “Good morning, Samantha. Your brother told me I could find you here,” he bowed to her curtsy.

  “Good morning, Raven. How nice to see you back in town. Will we see more of you?” She pulled her shawl around her shoulders.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Is that a question or a request?”

  Samantha graced him with a provocative glance, “Both.”

  Raven took an envelope from his breast pocket and handed her a separate invitation, which she opened in his presence.

  Samantha,

  I’m honored you and your family have accepted my invitation to visit Ravensmere. It would please me to spend special time together. There is much I would show you.

  With Fondness,

  Raven

  She read the note and the use of his intimate name signified. “Fondness, Raven?”

  “Yes, I can be generous with fondness, can you?”

  “It all depends on the circumstances. However, do sit and chat a while.” She motioned to the chair opposite her. “I confess I have a problem calling you by your Christian name. It’s disrepectful.” She drew her shawl closer, yet kept her eyes steadied on him.

  A grand smile graced his face. “I believe you suggested it, Samantha. Since when have you worried about politeness with me?”

  “It’s rather personal, but I do love the naked intimacy it implies. And, dear man, I’m wounded you still think me impolite.” A sensuous sigh escaped. “I’ve made every effort at courtesy with you to improve my behavior.” Her words accommodated, but he sensed a hint of humor in her this day, and much wanted to enjoy the moment.

  “That is unkind. I remember well my comment about your deportment.”

  He rather liked the games they played. To him, words never held significance until now when he conversed with her.

  “You said once that I could be elemental to your future. The premise occupied my mind, and in fact, I looked up the word in the dictionary. Do you know what it says?”

  “There are a few definitions, but perhaps the word essential would be a good explanation. Another could be an integral or ultimate constituent.” He paused, “Ahem. Somehow I don’t think of you as an ultimate constituent, Samantha.”

  “You open emotional doors, Raven. Are you prepared for what can ensue?”

  Those eyes of hers cast their spell. Damnation.

  “Yes, I am. Are you? I’m always aware of what I do, Samantha. I lead an ordered and arranged life. The routine of it has not changed over the years. It used to be a comfort to me—until I met you.” He paused, “Yet, I’m also a gentleman. Such as right now, I would like to say things to you that might sound improper, but I will not do so in your brother’s home. You can’t know what a delight it is that you are a widow. It’s a pleasant deviation not to have to play a game of meaningless, banal words with maidens.”

  Even though the countenance she displayed startled, he continued, “I will promise you there is a special surprise when you visit, and it’s something commissioned in your honor.”

  “I like surprises, most of the time, but can you give me a hint?” Samantha coaxed.

  “No, because then it would not be a surprise,” a grin escaped his face.

  Samantha couldn’t help but stare at this mysterious man who captured her interest and sometimes her ire. His handsome face and the hint of arrogance charmed, and at times he disarmed her. His eyes reminded her of a pool in a cool mountain grotto, which beckoned the watcher to enter the dark wakeful water. Could she be in danger of losing her heart? To her, his eyes seemed to penetrate as if he could assess her soul—and her secret. She wanted to tell him her story, but inadequacy in the ways of men cautioned her silence. He might not believe her story. The only way to verify the fact would be to surrender her virginity. And then what?

  Most times, he ingratiated himself to flatter and whisper in her ear. Each time his lips caressed her ear lobes to murmur something, he set her on fire. Energized blood coursed through her body igniting every part, awakening her dormant soul with the promise of all he might do. A serene smile colored her lips at the thought of him. This warmth permeated her, and she allowed her shawl to fall free.

  Like a river at the floodgates when the water crested, she’d topple over the edge into a mindless abyss of elusive desire. The anticipation excited her dreams, but she also heard that the act was overrated. She damned her inexperience and Sir Percival for his abandonment.

  Raven’s nearness, the pledge of something to come, became this side of fantasy. Or was it lunacy? Love should be more than a state of mind. She prepared to love with a heart emboldened by the infinite glory of the man who would make her whole—and a woman.

  With a tilt of her head, gazing at nothing, she laughed. What was the definition of making her whole? A sentence read in a penny novel? The achievement of bliss? How? What she did know upended her. She needed to Experience. Something. Soon.

  Samantha drank in his intoxicating scent and concluded her fantasy of a dream lover and Raven became one and the same. She wanted—no—desired to achieve fulfillment before she burst from want of him. The delayed rite of passage into new uncharted waters beckoned. Oh, my. Sweet heaven.

  Chapter Twenty

  Raven enjoyed the interaction with Samantha. There seemed to be timelessness about her. Her memorable lemon perfume scented those of the garden and soft lips taunted with their sweet affectation of innocence. How could a widow feign such virtue? Yes, she honed it to a science. Could she be an experienced actress, too?

  No words passed between them, nor were they needed. Their unspoken language transmitted volumes regarding terms of want, desire, and fulfillment, but also utter excitement and adventure into the world of seductive beauty—and recklessness. The last was a foreign emotion to him and he couldn’t remember ever subjecting himself to such irresponsibility. Samantha would be the death of him yet. Damnation.

  The sparks between them invoked passion. Could their twin souls soar? The vibrations deafened. Raven’s normal patience was now insufficient. Was she clairvoyant? Could she read his mind?

  “What is it you want?” she asked whisper soft, the sound a silken caress. “Tell me the vision behind those marvelous eyes. How deep do they go?”

  “For a start, dear lady, I want all the taste your lips allow. Perhaps more.” He stood, distanced himself and spoke in a low tone. “This is madnes
s to continue. I must leave here now. Forgive me.” He turned to go.

  Her hand halted him, and she engaged his charcoal eyes again.

  “I don’t think you know the power you wield in those wanton eyes, Samantha. You have the ability to communicate without speaking.” His voice was an impatient reply.

  “You seem to be immune.” Her Madonna-like smile became a gift.

  “No, I’m just in control of my senses. I can’t influence what you say or do, but I can restrain how I react. You make it difficult for me, and I know you are aware of the effect you have.” He strode away from her to rein in any action. His hands fisted at his side. Raven turned to exit the conservatory.

  She said, “You are deep in thought. This garden is peaceful and does cause contemplation.”

  Raven admitted, “It does beg thoughtfulness. Now, I must go.”

  “Stop, Raven,” she called to him.

  He halted, turned to face her once again. The lilt of her voice as seductive as opium in a den of inequity in Hong Kong.

  “Do you also practice magic and sorcery?” Raven stood beside her now, and drank in her presence. It took all his discipline to stop himself from the desire to embrace her, savor her lips and crush them. The need to embrace her, never to let go, escalated into a demanding desire—dangerous with its implications.

  Raven might be a hungry man, but it seemed to him she wanted him, too. Could they both sate themselves of this voracious appetite that grew to unbearable proportions? Samantha’s marriage might have been brief, but she knew the ways of physical love, and he wanted her with all the longing in his body.

  “I do believe you understand my intent,” he growled. Her fragrance and those bedeviled eyes that held his begged for an explanation of things he could show her if she let him. Would she take down all the barriers? Or would he have to remove them one by one along with her inhibitions? This last thought of his held endless possibilities of pleasure.

  Too old for game playing, he needed to know her true feelings about him. Of late, with the many events in his life, the landscape changed from moment to moment. Most of all, he hated the insecurity of not knowing her intentions. He knew his only too well. Had he just reinvented his future?

  It then occurred to him he wanted a forever woman; someone he’d wake up to every morning and say goodnight to each evening. Someone to be at his side in all that he did. A replica of his former wife? He closed his eyes and blinked away the vision of Liana. No, he begged. Stop. Let me go. Liana, release me and let me go.

  “I must leave before I do something I will regret, Samantha. You have a form that makes me want to commit a mortal sin. It’s difficult for me to remember I’m a gentleman, and you don’t make it easy.”

  “Raven, you’d be an honorable man no matter what you did or didn’t do. It’s steeped within you as part of your persona. When I think of nobility, I think of you.” She sighed, “And I trust you completely.”

  Damnation, he wished she didn’t utter those words. Trust is something to be earned, not given away. Guileless virgins spoke that way.

  “Do you know what the two cruelest words in the world are, Samantha? They are, trust me. How many men have spoken such to women as they ruined them? I could never do that to you.”

  At this moment, his thoughts didn’t include honor or truth or valor. He wanted to bed her and perhaps wed her if he could come to terms with his personal demons. Which would come first?

  Samantha beckoned with her seductive voice. “Nonetheless, I do trust you, but tell me about Ravensmere,” Somehow she knew even before she saw the estate, Ravensmere without him would be nothing—just a stone cold edifice without warmth. He was essential, too.

  She found herself in thoughts about him in unexpected and pleasant ways. Samantha experienced sensations as if she were in a fogging mist of sensuality and God-awful wonderful desire that left her with a begging need for satisfaction. The normal proper duke looked elegant in his attire, yet she wondered what he would be like underneath all those clothes—naked and free for her to explore. Goodness, from where did that thought come? Thank goodness he wasn’t a mind reader.

  Although handsome, tall and lean, his appeal became more than that. He had an innate intelligence, an arrogance that charmed, and most of all, worldliness. A few distinguished men attempted to woo her, but Raven made them look insignificant. Her mind and body were caught up in a vortex of new enormously carnal thoughts. Carnal could be a wonderful word. She blushed and prayed he couldn’t envision her naughty images.

  “Ravensmere can’t be explained, Samantha. It exists in all its magnificence and is special beyond mere words and represents the embodiment of my past. My forbearers’ responsibilities were grave, and now I’m charged to keep it precious for the future.”

  “Come and sit with me, Raven.” One eyebrow arched, but it was her soft voice that purred its siren call.

  He dared not move. “You seem distant, Samantha. Or are you far away in the heavens?” The corners of his mouth turn up into a wonderful masculine smile. What now pooled in her lower regions? Oh, the sensation begged, ached, and demanded.

  “I’m not that distant, Raven. I have learned to savor moments, and this is one of them. Do you realize that sometimes you distance yourself from me? Do you have a secret you want to share?” She rose to come to him. “There are times when I feel you wear a coat of armor which is almost impenetrable, that you protect yourself against the likes of me.”

  “And what, pray tell, is the likes of you?”

  “You will find out when I visit your estate. You indicated you have a surprise for me. I have one for you also, Raven.

  “I like presents.” A sly smile escaped.

  “But I shall give you mine at your magnificent Ravensmere when we are in private.”

  “I know what I would like, Samantha, when we are alone.”

  “Perhaps your prayers will be answered,” she wet her lips. “Perhaps my sole aim in life is to grant your wishes. Would that please you?”

  “Only if…” His voice trailed off. His glance scoured her body. “I bid you good day.” Raven left the conservatory with his breeches taut, grateful no one saw him.

  ****

  Raven’s London Townhouse

  In the quiet of his library, his mind labored over the events that led him to contemplate the difficulties with the cartel application. Randall brought him his silk jacket and a decanter of the expensive French cognac he favored. The servant poured him a good portion and then left to prepare the house for evening closure.

  Although Raven wanted to investigate the problem about his cartel, his meanderings were distracted by his feelings for Samantha. Raven knew of one way to perform such a task. He would seduce her!

  Would the opportunity present itself when she visited his estate? Would she like the rooms prepared for her? Much time and Herculean effort translated into many hours of work by his staff for this special visitation. His intention was for her to fall in love with Ravensmere. If she fell in love with him, that might signify also. The statement became a reality. His desire for her fired a raw, unfettered, physical clawing need that captured his senses like a gristmill in his gut. His rigid routine now bored him and called to mind a desire to change. He wanted to experience passion and lust again with his merry spitfire widow.

  He finished his cognac and poured another portion. The fire’s warmth took the chill from the air. The liquor fueled his inner body. His imagination could be set free to think about the seduction of his headstrong lady.

  The boathouse on the estate would be a perfect place for a tryst. Everything echoed splendor for he designed it for love and bed sport over ten years ago. Its view of star-studded evenings would be impressive. Was it an omen that he and his late wife never could use it upon its completion? She left his world. He now spent many evenings there—alone. Such a pity since it was meant to be a personal private world for lovers.

  Raven envisioned the act of passion. His arousal at the flig
ht of his imagination led to the creation of these visions. They were new, unusual experiences that left him restless and hungry. His passion burned for her in the biblical sense—in fact, in every possible way.

  Sleep would not come easy for Samantha was certain to occupy his thoughts.

  He leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and allowed himself to doze. His dream did not disappoint since Samantha was a major part of the vision. Her face, her eyes, her lips called out to him. Formally dressed he walked toward her. She wore a sheer, diaphanous goddess gown, her lush flesh peered through the fabric to further entice his already aroused senses.

  He extended his arms for an embrace. Samantha ran to him and slipped her arms around his neck. The scent of her hair and female essence tantalized his mind and suffocated the air. He leaned toward her face and placed his lips in perfect alignment to hers for a long, provocative, lingering kiss. His tongue darted into her open mouth, and they mated, eyelids closed, savoring the bliss of sensuality.

  She whispered soft, sultry words and kissed each of his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, and then each of his closed eyes. A groan escaped him. He swallowed hard, his teeth worrying his lips, waiting for more of whatever she planned. Shivers raced up and down his spine and sitting became uncomfortable. His cravat choked. Aware of his discomfit, she untied it and left it loose. With soft, fluid motion, as if dancing on clouds, she laved at his throat with hot, wet, wild lips. She offered her hands to him so he could rise.

  He did so with little effort, reached for her, and followed the apparition toward the door. She turned back to him with a smile that would entrench his soul, firm his loins, and make him feel virile again. Just when the unattainable was within his grasp, she released his hand and walked through the four-inch thick door, leaving him alone with frustration and his stiff member.

  Raven awakened from the trance in front of the door. Imaginings couldn’t take the place of reality. Slowly he strode to the liquor cabinet and placed the stopper on top of the decanter.