The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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The Duke of a Thousand Desires Page 17

by Jillian Hunter


  “Is there anything else you want to admit?”

  “I asked Griff and he turned me down, too.”

  “Simon.”

  He shook his head. “I know it sounds as if I’ve been deceiving you. But I approached Liam for your hand because I wanted you. And I married you for the same reason.”

  She was silent.

  He went down on his knee. “Give me absolution.”

  She bit the edge of her lip.

  “For God’s sake, say something. Show me your anger. Slap me. Throw a perfume bottle across the room. Do anything except leave -– are you giggling?”

  “This goes to confirm what I’ve said all along, Simon. You are a romantic.”

  He gave her a disgruntled look. “Obviously you are not. Yes, I realize I should have approached you first. I should have told you about my proposal before the wedding. But we were caught up in events beyond our control. I’d never deliberately trick you.”

  “Why didn’t you make an effort to contact me? You had years to express your feelings.”

  “I kept apprised of your activities, if it’s any consolation,” he said, rising from the floor.

  “And you cared for me all this time?” she asked, shaking her head. “You could have hinted.”

  “I thought I had. But after a while I began to wonder if Liam had been wise to reject me. I led a sophisticated life. Yours was sheltered. I had to subdue myself when you came near.”

  “You don’t now.”

  A wicked sparkle warmed his eyes. “And what a profound relief that is. It’s one of the benefits of our wedding license.” He tugged her toward the bed. “I do love you. You love me, too.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said, falling into his arms. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to love anyone ever again after Grayson’s ball.”

  “But you do. I knew I loved you a long time ago. I had every intention of telling you until I spoke to Liam.”

  “It isn’t a terrible secret,” she whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  “But it was terrible of you to keep it.”

  “Will you forgive me?”

  “I haven’t decided. Give me a year or so to mull it over. Perhaps you should do penance.”

  “As long as you don’t leave me. Or ask me to leave.”

  He rolled on top of her, his knee pressed between her thighs. She opened herself to him instinctively. His feverish kisses warned her there’d be no prelude to his dark play tonight. She draped her arm around his neck and pulled him down hard. Fire underlit her belly, and then she was burning with impatience to feel him melded to her. His mouth moved from hers to whisper in her ear. She wasn’t sure exactly what he said. His voice was a growl of urgency and promises.

  Was there anything to forgive?

  Moonlight and the man she adored -- her blood clamored in craving. His timing impeccable, not a trace of propriety to his name, he nudged her thighs further apart and drove into her sex. She dug her left heel into the mattress, locked the other around the small of his back, bracing herself. His first thrust took her breath and filled her body. The next emptied her mind.

  Then bliss. She gripped, he gave, and greedy thing that she was, she took until he left her trembling and close to tears. She gloved him inside her as he splintered, shivers rippling across his stomach. She fought to breathe and stared up at him in silence, thinking back to all they’d shared.

  “What is it?” he whispered, looking puzzled and sweet when moments before he had pounded her to a veritable pulp and turned their bed into a battleground.

  “I don’t know. But -- ” She eased out from beneath him. His chest and shoulders felt warm to her touch. She was bathed in the scent of him, of uninhibited sex. “Why couldn’t Liam have chosen you? He handed me over to a weasel. I’d much rather have had a wolf like you from the beginning.”

  “Questionable praise. Remind me to devour you after I wake up.” He turned onto his side, studying her with dark concern. “Your family trusted me. I couldn’t break that trust. When the opportunity presented itself to make you mine, I wasn’t about to lose you a second time.”

  “How long would you have let me believe you’d only married me to satisfy honor?”

  “Probably until Rhys forced my hand.” He leaned in for a deep kiss, his hand stroking a path down her arm to her wrist. “We were both afraid to tell you.”

  “It’s the first time he’s kept a secret from me.”

  “I’m your family now.”

  They drifted into another silence, pulses slowing. Simon stirred.

  “Did you love him?” he asked.

  “David?” She frowned, resenting the intrusion of his name. “I believed so for a time. He seemed to be a gentleman -- thoughtful, true, and kind at heart. We weren’t together often enough to discover each other’s flaws, I suppose.”

  He listened with a hooded expression. “And your current opinion?”

  She ran her hands across his chest, respecting his need to understand. He was a solid man, strong in every meaning of the word. She knew why he had hidden his caring nature from others. He had been raised to rule. A duke could not show weakness to the many who looked up to him.

  “David is a cad who pays more attention to other women than he ever did to me,” she said. “He’s patently disloyal and cruel to the core.”

  He inhaled at her touch, his shoulders rolling in pleasure. “Blunt,” he said with a droll smile. “I admire that. What do you think of me?” he asked with an unflinching stare that went through her. “I know you’re incapable of dishonesty.”

  She attempted to wriggle away from him until he pinned her down with his lower body to subdue her movements. Being imprisoned beneath her husband was a sweet domination she had scant desire to resist. And he loved her.

  “I once thought you were a moody, complicated, and unfathomable man whose visits to the castle were the secret delight of my life. You filled me with fire and confusion.”

  A reluctant laugh rumbled in his chest. “Now?”

  “My opinion hasn’t changed in most regards.” She sucked in her breath as he shifted upward slightly to rub his heavy cock against her belly. “How am I to complete a sentence when I’m diverted by your prowess?” she said, her hips moving in frustration. “Do you want me to finish or not?”

  “Please. I am fascinated. All ears.”

  “Not below the waist,” she said dryly. “And I maintain my original opinion of you. The only difference between the past and today is that you are now my husband as well as my friend … and what I considered a threat to my well-being is what makes me the happiest I have ever been.”

  He was quiet for some moments, absorbing all she had admitted. “I need you,” he said, holding her immobile now with only his voice. “I am not ashamed to confess it.”

  “You aren’t a man easily brought to shame,” she agreed.

  As if she demanded evidence of this, he entered her again in a deep thrust, muttering, “And you do love me.”

  “I do,” she said, swallowing a gasp at the sensation of piercing sweetness she felt to her spine. “You know that.”

  “Say it over and over until we fall asleep. My God, Ravenna, I have never been this hard.”

  “Romantic,” she said with a breathless laugh.

  The large hand he had hooked beneath her bottom lifted her higher. He filled her to overflowing, pleasured her without restraint, his secret -- his longing for her, body and soul -- revealed.

  “I love you -- ” She choked back a cry, doubting she would sleep at all. If she did, she would dream about a duke who had desired her for years and she would wake up wondering why he’d hidden his love away when it was obvious she had been meant to be his.

  27

  The house thrummed with activity; maids and footmen darted to and fro from the kitchens to the front door as Simon attempted to sneak outside for the second time that day. He’d crept down the servants’ staircase to avoid notice only to be obstructed by a p
rocession of tea urns. He had retreated immediately. He cringed to imagine the scolding he would receive if he spoiled Ravenna’s first official affair.

  When Aunt Glynnis had announced at her supper party that Her Grace the Duchess of Rochecliffe was ready to see and be seen, Society had listened.

  It seemed to Simon that the whole of the bon ton had descended on the house to sip Souchong and nibble cakes with his wife. He glimpsed her sitting on the red tufted sofa of their first-floor drawing room. She looked so angelic surrounded by her aunt and numerous other ladies that he had to admire her. Who would guess that she brought him to his knees with the merest effort?

  He leaned against the door to listen to her musical voice. Her guests were examining the sapphire bracelet he’d given her last night. Enamored as he was of her changeable charms, he could not spend the day eavesdropping, however. His priority was to visit a livery stable to buy a suitable mount for Ravenna to ride in London, as well as a traveling coach for their country trips.

  On the way to the stable he planned to stop at Tattersall’s auction house, an establishment that dealt in select bloodstock and the business of horse-racing. Rhys had offered to attend the afternoon showing of a new stud on the premises. As a former cavalry officer, he had an interest in all things equine.

  En route, they spied Heath’s trim carriage traveling at high speed in the opposite direction. Simon slowed his Arab. “We should ask whether there is an emergency,” he said to Rhys. “Pray heaven it does not involve Julia.”

  “It is nothing of consequence,” Heath said from his window as the two men trotted alongside his carriage. “I’m in a rush to Grayson’s hothouse. Julia craves cucumbers. Sprinkled with sugar and salt.”

  Simon grinned. “Couldn’t you send a servant on this errand?”

  “I could,” Heath said. “But I want to handpick an orchid for her. I can’t order a footman to choose a flower for my wife. It wouldn’t be the same.”

  Rhys shook his head. “The evidence grows stronger by the day.”

  “What evidence?” Heath said. “The fact that we’re holding up city traffic? The menace to Simon and Ravenna, or my wife’s delicate condition? What case are you building?”

  Rhys pulled up his collar against a gust of wind. “The one against matrimony. Marriage has reduced you and Simon to a pathetic state. It saddens me.” He squinted at Simon as a raindrop hit his forehead. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not in the mood for a horse auction. But do summon me if there is a genuine problem. I’ll ride to Covent Garden.”

  Heath laughed. “Doesn’t a certain ballet dancer live in that neighborhood?”

  “She might.” Rhys turned his mount. “To be honest I’d rather join a dance troupe than run about picking out cucumbers and ponies.”

  “Are you coming with me to Audrey Watson’s tonight, should I decide to go?” Heath called after them.

  Rhys froze. “Was I invited?”

  “Her door is always open to an eligible Boscastle male,” Heath replied. “Just remember we would visit her only to seek information and not for entertainment.”

  “I’m not the one Simon has to convince,” Rhys said.

  “Which is a reason for you to join us. You can report back to your sister that Simon was faithful to his vows. He needs you as insurance.”

  Rhys looked skeptical. “And Julia? Does she know about this?”

  “I would not ever deceive her,” Heath said. “She’s entertained Mrs. Watson at our table more than once. Consider it a family favor.”

  Simon smiled at Rhys’ reluctance to accept. “You’re the one who reminded me that you and I are family now.”

  “I shall carry that uplifting thought in my heart for the rest of the day,” Rhys said, backing up his horse. “Yes. I shall stand as an eyewitness if you decide to go. But don’t forget I’m still a bachelor. I wouldn’t want you to keep me out of trouble should the opportunity arise.”

  Thus alone, Simon continued to the auction house. He missed Ravenna’s company and wondered how she was faring at her tea party. He contemplated Heath’s invitation to visit Mrs. Watson’s brothel.

  Ravenna would fly into the boughs. Not that any courtesan could compare with her. Would there come a day when his wife did not preoccupy his thoughts?

  Soon the excitement in the air, the whicker of horse and conversation of gentlemen dealers in tall hats and polished boots, engaged his attention.

  Many of them were in the market for race horses. Simon had no plans to establish a breeding stable at his country seat, an endeavor that Bruxton had undertaken shortly after marrying Susannah. It pained Simon to recall how he and Bruxton had once discussed the venture over a bottle of port in an atmosphere of what Simon had mistaken to be trust.

  Damn the murdering bastard.

  He wandered to the enclosure to watch a handsome grey trotted out for viewing. The threat of rain had passed.

  “Rochecliffe, is that you?” a gruff voice queried over the low thud of hoofbeats. “It is. Good to see you alive and well.”

  Simon turned to the gristle-haired gentleman who had spoken, a former commander of Light Dragoons who frequented his father’s club. “Am I believed to be dead?” he asked with a laugh, clasping the man’s hand.

  “You haven’t been sighted in weeks, although I have to say you look in excellent health. Married life must agree with you.”

  “It does.”

  “Your papa would approve of the choice you made. A solid family, if scandal-prone, but that’s in the blood. Excellent match, indeed.”

  “Thank you. I value the suggestion of my father’s blessing.” He took a pause. “On the subject the family, is Bruxton here today, by chance?”

  The commander hesitated. “You’ve missed your brother-in-law by minutes. I barely spoke to him. He bought the stud that is the talk of the Jockey Club and took off in a rush to meet his -- ” He coughed in embarrassment. “Pardon me. I sound like an old gossip. What the earl does is not my concern.”

  “He has a paramour. It is fine. I know of her. I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

  “Visit me soon, your grace. I think often of your parents.”

  The confirmation that his father would approve of his marriage pleased Simon. He’d already learned that Bruxton had a new love interest. Still, as far as Simon knew the earl had not betrayed Susannah during their marriage.

  Why had he killed her?

  He rode from Tattersall’s to Pennant’s private livery stable on Oxford Street, not far from Grayson’s house. It was here he purchased Ravenna’s horse and a sturdy coach for their country travels. He trusted the stablemaster and bought on sight the gelding brought out.

  A young man with sable hair stuffed under a cap approached him from another stall. “He’s a fine choice for a lady, your grace. Dependable but not a dray.”

  Simon turned slightly. The Earl of Bruxton’s head groom stood between a pair of coaching hacks. He doffed his cap in respect. Kieran Healy … wasn’t that his name? He had been employed at the earl’s house before Susannah had taken residence there.

  The younger man bowed stiffly, adding, “You’ll not remember me, perhaps.”

  “I do. We spoke after my sister passed.”

  “Aye. There aren’t enough words for that sorrow.”

  Simon lapsed into thought. The groom had obviously been eavesdropping on Simon’s exchange with the stablemaster. It was considered inappropriate for a servant to initiate a conversation with a noble, not that Simon minded. But hadn’t Susannah often praised Kieran’s dedication to his job in the flood of letters that Simon had neglected to answer?

  If Kieran had made a favorable impression on Susannah, then Simon would not disregard him. “Is your master in the stables?”

  “His lordship is out of town until Sunday, your grace. He’s only just gone.”

  “You have served him for how long?”

  “Over ten years.”

  “That’s half your life.”

  “
My family has trained horses for a hundred years back,” Kieran said with pride.

  “I could use a man of your expertise on my estate.”

  The groom’s eyes flashed with interest then quickly dimmed. “It would be an honor. However, I am indebted to his lordship. And I’m training a colt for the earl to race at Newmarket in October.”

  “I understand. You are good at what you do, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not for me to boast.”

  “Go on.”

  Kieran half-smiled. “Well, a few bookmakers have sought my advice and offered to pay me for racing tips.”

  “Valuable knowledge, indeed.”

  “I’ve never accepted their money.”

  The livery stablemaster had returned to show Simon a small traveling coach that had been driven into the yard for inspection. “Fast and compact, your grace. Perfect for your needs.”

  Simon eyed the dress chariot in rueful silence. The coach boasted gilded handles and globular lamps that resembled glass pumpkins. The windows provided an all-encompassing view of the road.

  The stablemaster opened the door with a flourish and motioned inside. “As your grace can see, the panels are fashioned of mahogany and lined in heavy damask. The coachmaker is happy to add a crest and include matching livery in any metal and material you choose.”

  Would a gentleman disclose that he sought a spacious carriage in which he and his wife could cherish each other in comfort? That he wished a specific conveyance built so that he would not inadvertently bang his head on the roof in the heat of passion?

  “It’s of excellent quality,” Simon conceded. “But I had something more spacious in mind. I have numerous relatives.” That, at least, was a complete truth.

  “Ah, yes,” the stablemaster said. “You prefer an equipage with the capacity for sleeping on the road and warming a small meal?” The man nodded. “I’ve an aging cousin who travels with us. She takes up plenty of space with her dogs and such.”

 

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