One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  At times she was such a child, and he loved her all the more for it. And at other times, she was a tempting morsel.

  “I have things to say to you. There should be no secrets between us.”

  His hand skimmed her cheek and fell to her lips. He told her he would like to go to Ravensmere as soon as possible, by the end of the week. While he knew it was a long ride, he needed to return there. He explained he had planned much for her arrival, and never gave up hope she’d marry him. “I want for our child to also be born at the manor.” He saw her pout.

  “Now my lady duchess”—he pulled her close to him, and enjoyed the lavender scent of her hair—“I know there was help from family and friends in order to court you. Don’t be angry with me and don’t be annoyed with them. You could say all of this preparation was ordained by the heavens. Please let me finish before you interrupt me.”

  Raven told her he had the crimson roses removed to the far side of the mausoleum, and replaced with white ones. “For purity,” he said, “because that is what you gave me. I was indeed the first. That is irrefutable.”

  He said his master gardener was told to plant lavender roses because he liked the way the color looked on her. Her signature Star Gazers were ablaze in all the flower beds.

  “It is important you see them, because they do have a limited life span since they are a tuber.” He grinned. “In actuality, it is a good excuse to get you to agree to go there sooner. My concern is if we travel and you are too far along in your pregnancy that something could happen. Coach rides over long distances can be uncomfortable and sometimes dangerous dependent on the season and weather. I have a great fear for your welfare. I couldn’t bear another loss. So will you indulge me and give me peace of mind?”

  “My concern is for you, husband. Pregnancy is not a wound.” Samantha raised her head and looked into those eyes that were so deep now that she wanted to swim in them. His complexity revealed so many hidden parts of him, and she wondered at his courage, strength and dignity. These same things she used to fling back at him in their arguments caused her to realize how wrong she had been in so many things.

  “The ducal carriage will take us, and the coachman has been instructed to make it a gentle ride. We will have many pillows to cushion us. The footmen have been doubled. Our joint chambers have been refurbished. Yours is in lavender and mine is in sapphire blue.”

  His voice sounded weary to her. “The priceless heirloom bed in my chamber is the same one. The four-poster in yours has been hand painted with stars and crescents in shimmering silver. Your former chambers will make a nice nursery. Is that suitable to you? You can teach the child astrology at a young age,” he said.

  “Oh, yes, Raven, you scoundrel, you knew in your heart I would give in and marry you?”

  “How could you not marry a duke as handsome and virile as me? You could not resist my arrogant charm. No, you cannot strike me. I am still a wounded man.” He feigned sickness and placed his hand over his heart. “Truth be told, Samantha, I’m tired and my shoulder hurts.”

  “During my illness, my lady, my laudanum dreams were strange yet wonderful, and you were always a part of them. Come close to me and lay alongside me. Just your nearness will be a pleasure for I don’t believe I can do anything else.”

  She gently touched his furry chest above the bandage. “I, too, am tired. Shall we just try to sleep and then talk again when we awaken?”

  He dozed in her arms. She tried to extract herself so he could become more comfortable, but his good arm pulled her back to his side. “No, don’t leave me, my lady. I need the solace of your arms around me tonight. Promise you’ll not go.” He raised his eyes to hers. “These bandages will be gone soon.” He paused to catch his breath.

  “I promise, but I need to remove this tiara.”

  The jewels caught the firelight and it blazed in a kaleidoscope of color. She placed the crown on a bedside table. Samantha leaned back against the satin pillow to cushion him in her arms, his head on her shoulder, and managed to draw up the covers as the moonlight streamed through the room. She gave a silent prayer for this wonderful man, who was now her husband. He was her elemental man. Much in love and grateful, sleep possessed her.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Ravensmere Estate, Weeks Later

  After a light dinner, Raven gazed at his wife with ardent desire. “Although, I’m not tired enough to sleep, I most likely will need a diversion. Shall we retire to our chambers?” His grin conveyed wicked intentions.

  “You seek a diversion, my duke? Are you up to it?”

  He strode to his wife, brought her to him, and rested his chin on her head. “I’m a hungry, strong man in need of my wife’s pleasures. We have the rest of the night reserved for each other with no interruptions allowed.” The scent of her hair teased his nostrils. “I love holding you in my arms like this.”

  “You will not tax yourself?” her voice asked, yet her smile said otherwise.

  “No more than any other exercise.”

  “Like riding a horse astride, my husband?”

  “Exactly what I had in mind.” Oh, he had many things in mind this night—this special night. “In fact, Doctor Clemons said it would aid my total recovery.”

  She tilted her head. “I believe you are embroidering the truth.”

  “No, you wound me.” He rang for Randall, who promptly tapped at his door.

  “You rang, Your Grace?”

  “The duchess and I are retiring to our suite. We’re not to be disturbed unless the house is on fire, or the Regent has died. I don’t believe any of those events will happen this night.”

  “Good night, Your Graces.” Randall nodded.

  They climbed the steps, his arm around her waist. He led her to his chamber, opened the door to allow her to pass, and then followed and locked the door.

  “Raven, I’m so happy to be alone with you like this. I haven’t rung for Diandra. Can you help me out of this gown?”

  “I do believe I remember how to do this. Such memories never leave me.”

  She turned her back to him, and his fingers deftly unlaced the gown. It fell to the floor and she stepped out of it. She wore no corset or undergarments except for her chemisette.

  “No undergarments, my love? Were you expecting me to…”

  “I prayed you would be so inclined. I dislike corsets, truly. Being in a family way gives me a good excuse to avoid them.” Those wide eyes of hers beamed at him with desire. If he could, he would give her the moon as a crown, for his joy was boundless.

  He went to her, and had her pirouette so he could admire all of her curves. “Let me look at you. The last time I was able to view you with just your stockings and slippers, we had a misunderstanding.”

  Raven stepped back, placed his hand to his chin to study the vision before him.

  “I don’t want to think of that awful night in the boathouse,” she said. “I’d rather think of the first night.”

  He whispered in her ear while his lips caressed the erogenous spot below her earlobe. His tongue darted in the satin seam of her lips, and stroked her long neck as her breath hitched. He pleasured her mouth with a probing tongue, driving her closer to the edge of desire. Her purring became music to his ears. How he’d waited for this moment, yet he withdrew his lips from her.

  He yanked his shirt over his head and his chest was exposed accentuating a small white bandage. His lips plundered again like a pirate of the seven seas with more intensity and unbelievable need. At her eager response, he led her to his bed, rested her upon it, and removed her chemise slowly, with ardor; his fingers explored the length of her.

  The touch of her hand on his shoulder excited, teased, and soon tormented. The strands of her red hair were like silk as he ran his fingers through them, and the picture it presented, her shortened curls rested over the soft down pillow, further encouraging his firm arousal. In that there was pride.

  In her naked splendor, his mouth traced its way down and across to
her neck tasting the saltiness of her smooth skin and shoulders. He caressed her navel with his tongue and licked her just above her apex. At the moment when she might think he would ravage her there in her sacred spot, he moved upward again and assessed her arched body—

  And its rhythm.

  Wonderful rhythm.

  Pulsating rhythm.

  Some men discounted it, but to him, this act was everything seductive. His lips touched the sensitive area at the cleft of her throat, and his breath scorched as he slid down, across her breasts, and suckled until her nipples became taut. She was flushed the soft color of a pink flower, and looked more beautiful than ever. He withdrew his lips from her breasts. Her moan protested his absence. So he returned to worship them, one at a time, suckling them to a peak. He swore he felt the heat radiating from between her legs, and he wanted nothing more than to have her taste a piece of heaven.

  Raven placed his cheek to hers in a caress. His hands touched her neck with gentleness at first, cupping her face and then centering his mouth down to her stomach where his lips probed in circles just above her feminine core.

  He took measure of her, sensing he primed her to a deepened desire as she now writhed beneath him. The full sight of her gyrations conjured dreams of the fantasy lover she always spoke about. Could he play the role? Oh, yes, he could. Better yet, he wanted to prove it to them both.

  Her hands tugged at his breeches to release their fall, and soon his aching manhood was released. The erotic sight as she bit on her lower lip with anticipation rocked him. Then she touched his shaft and slid her fingers up and down its solid firmness. His response almost undid him. To prolong the act, he showed her what a true lover could do to make her body thrum, to assail her senses, to desire, to taste and touch him and be touched in all the important erotic places. He teased and taunted, all the while he responded to her purrs of pleasure as she moaned when her body reacted to his touch in inconceivable passion.

  The nakedness of her inner thighs beckoned him, and he guided his hands up to her core and then down again. He followed this upward with wet kisses that paused at her apex, always teasing, brushed his tongue over her bud, and then down again. At her touch the heat of her body radiated down her entire length, igniting them both.

  Raven wanted her need to match his. Their shared intimacy became an incredible craving, a longing, and desperation for completion. Their joint lust was insatiable. Then his mouth claimed her channel urging her forward in the act of passion until her soft sounds begged him to give her release. Flesh against flesh, the hot tide of passion raged through both of them.

  With eagerness Samantha accepted his engorged cock thrusting hard, fast and powerful. She arched beneath him. She wriggled. She moaned. All hot, pliant, glossy, slick and wet liquid heat stunned. At first she whispered his name. In the throes of their heightened desire and ready to climax, she screamed his name. “Raven, Oh, don’t stop. More. I need more.”

  Samantha’s fervor overwhelmed until she could stand no more. They tangled arms, hips, legs, lips, and hands in slick motions that traversed their bodies, and each touch seared and enflamed, binding them together as one. Simply divine. They were one molten body, encased in each other, in hunger, in want, and in great need of attainment.

  She tightened her inner muscle around him in a glorious welcome. Their love sport was unlike any experienced before. There was more than lust in their joint union. The gentleness gave way to a frenzied longing for release. She begged him for more yet again, and then she crested in fulfillment. When he sensed her orgasm, he pumped in powerful thrusts until he exploded within her flooding her with his seed. She surrendered to his masterful seduction. Time ceased to exist, or was not a consideration at all. They’d both waited too long for this satisfaction.

  When he moved off her, drenched, exhausted and shaken by the propensity of their lust-filled ardor, she saw the shimmer of his wet cock, slick with her glistening essence, pulled him down to her again, and pressed her breasts to his chest.

  Breathless, it started all over again, a delirium with a sizable portion of oblivion matched with insanity.

  “I do believe I am excited at the naked sight of you with just your stockings and slippers. I will keep that in mind for the future.”

  After they rested, she alongside him in his arms, the candles flickered and she nuzzled his neck. “Your chest does not hurt? I’ve tried to be careful.”

  “I’m fine. Do I take it you want more, my hungry wanton?” Raven kissed the top of her crown and savored the scent of her hair, that, in and of itself, always tantalized. Who could explain the euphoria of the moment in each other’s arms?

  “Yes,” she said in a soft moan. “I want to ride you.”

  Amused, he asked, “You’re serious?”

  She riddled him with kisses, while he moved her on top of him with ease.

  “What do I do?”

  “First, you will have to arouse me again. Can you manage that?” He laughed in such a seductive tone. “Knees down on the bed, legs behind you. When I am firm, arch backward and move back and forth on my cock. Place your hands on the calves of your legs, then lean forward to me so that your breasts are just near enough my lips to allow me to suckle.”

  His hard shaft was now between them and with ease he raised her body just enough to impale her fully as she rocked.

  “Raven, this feels decadent,” eyelids barely open, passion rising in her like the hottest fire.

  She lowered her breast enough to let his teeth graze her taut nipple.

  “Now for the other one, for I can show no favoritism.”

  “Raven, I can’t wait anymore.”

  “Just let your body sing to you. You’ll know what to do.” He arched his body and she started a mutual rhythm, each thrust stronger than the one before. His hands tightened around her bottom. “Close your eyes. Pretend you’re riding a horse. Let the moment take and guide you,” his raspy voice growled. She rode him faster and faster until quick movements hastened the turbulence of passion swirling around her in the raw act of possession.

  She threw her head back. His breathing labored, and his body bucked in glorious ecstasy.

  Raven turned them both over, with Samantha still impaled by him. He kissed her lips, nose, and cheeks until…until…he could stand no more. “Come with me, my love. Come. Come. Share paradise with me.”

  In response to her decadent scream, he roared in reply. The universe washed over them; the world would never be the same again. He ground into her and coaxed another orgasm.

  “Oh my God,” she sighed in pleasant exhaustion.

  “No, Samantha, I’m not a God. I’m just a besotted husband who has dreamed of this every night for almost four weeks. Get used to it, love. It will only get better with practice.”

  After long moments, Raven rose up and cleansed himself. Then he retrieved a clean cloth and did the same to her. He covered them with the soft down comforter. “Rest in my arms. I didn’t hurt you, did I? The babe is well?”

  “Yes, husband. The babe and I are more than well.”

  Epilogue

  Four Years Later

  A new portrait graced the mantel in the drawing room. Their Graces were pictured with their eyes gazing at each other. Samantha was in her wedding gown with her diamond, emerald and sapphire tiara. Raven’s resplendent matching cerulean jacket and gray woven waist coat complemented hers. He wore his signet ring. They were posed, hands held in a three-quarter profile. The artist duplicated the love that was so apparent.

  The nanny came into the room with the twins, the heir Marquess of Morecastle and his younger twin sister, Lady Liana Raven—who would soon be celebrating their third birthday. They ran to their parents and waited to climb their laps. Raven held his daughter, and Samantha held her son.

  “They’re growing so big, my dear. Have all the arrangements been made for the party?” he asked.

  “The small party has blossomed into a larger party with all sides of the families invited
. Where has the time gone?” Samantha showered her son with kisses.

  “Between Ravensmere and the London townhouse for the season, we are always on the go. I’d like to find my wife in the cottage where we can share a few private moments together on one starry night.”

  Samantha gazed at her handsome husband. “That can be arranged. Do you tire of the boathouse activities?” She winked impishly.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, as Liana played with the ribbon of his quizzing glass. “There is a fourth wedding anniversary present for you which you might like.” Raven’s reply was meant to tease.

  They handed the children to the nanny to play on the lawn.

  “Another present? the duchess asked. “I have more than enough jewels.”

  “No jewels, but something better.”

  “Wicked man, we shall have to go there tonight so I can see, is that it?”

  “Precisely. I know you’ll be pleased.

  Samantha pouted. “Tell me. Give me a hint.” Her gaze searched his face.

  “A small hint then. It has to do with…no, I can’t tell you. It is to be a true surprise.”

  He’d arranged for the Astronomer’s Society to print her thesis on the constellations. It was a serious work fit for collectors.

  “Raven, you are cruel to taunt me so.”

  “Samantha, I’ve planned this for a long time, so kindly be patient.”

  “Patience is not a virtue I possess, as you know,”

  Raven rose from the wrought iron chair and went to her, bending his head to align his lips to hers. “But you do have so many other virtues that I enjoy exploring, my love.” His lips tantalized her with seductive persuasion. “Come, let’s stroll together. I know where we can get into mischief.”

  Author’s Notes

  London, England in 1816 was in a time of change and historical significance for the nation, as the industrial revolution galvanized the masses. By the 1780s, the British Industrial Revolution, which had been developing for several decades, further accelerated. Workers left the agricultural areas to seek employment in factories. Manufacturing, business, and the number of wage laborers skyrocketed, starting a trend that would continue into the first half of the nineteenth century.