Undone By The Duke

by Willingham Michelle

  When he saw the face of Cain Sinclair, a frigid tension gripped him. From his bedraggled appearance, it seemed as if he’d been running for hours.

  Sinclair was out of breath, his clothing soaked from the rain. “Your wife… coach accident” was all he could say.

  God above. The air left his lungs with the thought of Victoria hurt or dying. He couldn’t bear to think of it. He could hardly speak but managed to ask, “Is she alive?”

  Sinclair nodded, pointing back on the road. “About ten miles through the mountains. We need horses.”

  Jonathan’s shoulders sagged with relief, though inwardly, he was shaking. He knew how terrified she was of the outdoors, and every minute she spent alone was nothing short of agony. “Why did you leave her there?”

  “Melford took her hostage,” Sinclair countered. “The bastard shot my horse, and the other two couldna make it this far. Looked like they went lame after the accident. Else I’d have brought her with me, long before.”

  “Where is Melford now?” Jonathan demanded, even as he ordered Franklin to prepare his horse.

  “He had an accident,” Sinclair answered quietly. From the glint in his eyes, Jonathan suspected there was no accident at all. “Follow me.”

  “I’ll get some of the crofters tae help,” Mrs. Larson said. She hurried out into the rain, drawing her kertch over her hair.

  “Get the midwife, too,” Sinclair ordered. “Just in case.” His voice grew quieter, and the revelation left Jonathan speechless.

  A midwife. The man’s implication was quite clear, and a desperate fear roared through him. Not only had he abandoned her in London… but he’d made her pregnant.

  He never should have left. He’d been angry with himself, confused by the emotions Victoria had provoked. The months he’d spent away from her had done nothing to diminish the feelings. Instead, her absence had only heightened how much he needed her.

  When Jonathan’s horse was brought by the groom, he mounted and rode hard, not waiting for Sinclair to take the lead. With every mile that passed, his fear multiplied. She was out there alone, and after such an accident, it was quite possible she’d lose their child.

  What if he never saw her again? What if she not only miscarried their child but lost her own life, too? What if she died, never knowing how much he needed her?

  The harsh rain needled his skin, transforming into ice crystals. He followed the endless road, wishing to God he could go back and undo his mistakes. He’d thought that he could bring her out of her fear of the outdoors, but the truth was, she’d led him out of his own hellish memories. The weeks he’d spent with her in Scotland had given him moments of light to heal his broken past.

  She was his reason for being, his reason to breathe. He couldn’t imagine returning to a life without her seated in a chair, stitching a seam. Or watching the frustration on her face when he won a game of chess.

  He loved her, and no amount of gold would ever replace her in his life. He’d give every last pound to know that she was safe.

  When he saw the remains of the coach on the bottom of the hillside, his heart stopped. The bodies of Melford and the driver lay upon the ground, and the awkward position of the factor’s neck revealed the reason for his death. The coach lay upon its side, one door thrown open at the top. Jonathan guided his horse carefully down the hill, and when he reached the shattered vehicle, he climbed atop it, calling out, “Victoria!”

  Strong arms held her close, the rain dampening her face. Though her body ached with pain, someone had found her.

  “Thank God,” she heard a man say. His deep baritone voice was familiar, though she kept her eyes closed. It sounded like Jonathan, though she couldn’t bear to think of opening her eyes and finding out it was only her imagination.

  “You came for me,” she whispered to the husband in her dreams. She’d hoped he would. After Cain Sinclair had found her, she’d tried to get out of the coach. But the harsh pain had struck again, making her worry that if she tried to walk, she might lose the baby.

  “I came as quickly as I could,” he answered. He held her in his arms, carrying her until she felt herself being lifted onto a horse. “Are you in pain? Is the baby—” His words broke off as if he couldn’t voice his worst fears.

  Slowly, Victoria dared to open her eyes. At the sight of the duke, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. It was a blend of joy from seeing him again and fear for their baby.

  “It hurts,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll keep this child or not.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I was wrong to leave you for so long.” He embraced her tight, and against her ear, he whispered, “You’re everything to me.”

  “Take me home,” she begged, burying her face against his neck. “Please.”

  He cradled her across his lap to keep her from being bumped by the horse too much. “Melford was going to use me to threaten you,” she murmured. “The earl wants to control all of this land—my parents’ and yours.”

  “I won’t allow that.” He held her close, and she embraced him as he urged the horse back. She dared to open her eyes, forcing herself to look at the road ahead. The mountains sheltered the valley between them, the green hills sodden with melted snow. Though it was freezing outside, she didn’t feel the cold at all. Jonathan had wrapped his coat around her, as if she were his most precious possession. She was too aware of her husband’s arms around her and the words of endearment he whispered in her ear.

  When they reached his lands at Eiloch Hill, she saw that his former house had been enlarged, with a new wing added. Surrounding it were dozens of thatched cottages, and one by one, the MacKinloch crofters emerged to ensure that she was all right. The men raised their hands in welcome, the women hurrying forward as Jonathan carried her from the horse.

  The midwife, Bridget Fraser, awaited them. “We’ll tend to her now, lad,” Mrs. Fraser promised. “With God’s grace, we’ll save the wee bairn.”

  But as Jonathan carried her upstairs, his eyes stared into hers. He laid her down upon the bed and sat beside her. “I love you, Victoria.” The dark torment in his eyes made her reach for his hand. “And I shouldn’t have left.”

  She was about to reassure him, to answer his feelings, but he continued on. “If you never want to go back to London, if you want to stay here for the rest of your days, I don’t care,” he confessed. “You don’t have to be a duchess. Just be my wife.”

  Seeing his fear made her long to put his worries to rest. “I love you, Jonathan. And wherever you go, my place is with you.” She pulled him down into a kiss. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  “Promise I’ll never have to play chess with you, for as long as I live.”

  An abrupt laugh escaped him, as he embraced her. “Never again. I promise.”

  The days grew warmer and Victoria grew rounder. Though the midwife had confirmed that she’d only suffered bruises and the baby was fine, her husband had not once shared her bed. It seemed that he was terrified of hurting either of them. Even at night, when she’d leaned over to kiss him, he’d been overly protective, gently turning down her unspoken invitation to make love.

  It was making her even more frustrated. As the pregnancy transformed her body, she’d grown more sensitive to touch. And frankly, she wanted her husband. She’d reimagined the last time he’d made love to her, many times, until she cuddled against him at night, wishing he would forget himself. Though she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t touch her, she’d decided she was tired of waiting.

  The morning sun had barely creased the horizon when she awakened. Carefully, she lifted away the nightgown she’d worn and leaned over to Jonathan. He hadn’t worn a nightshirt, and was naked except for a pair of cotton drawers. She moved toward him, pressing her bare breasts against his warm back. They were more swollen than usual, and she rather liked the way pregnancy had given her curves she’d lacked before.

  Her
husband was still asleep, and she reached around to the ties of his drawers. When she reached inside them, she found his manhood was thick and hard. A smile came over her as she squeezed it lightly, caressing him with her palm and fingers.

  “Victoria,” he whispered, his words filled with sleep.

  “Shh.” She touched him, delighting in the way his erection responded to her. He was hard, and with every stroke, she felt her own body growing moist.

  “We can’t,” he gritted out, and she answered his words by moving her hand up and down in a rhythm. “God above, that feels good.”

  “Take off your drawers,” she ordered, reaching to his waist. But he caught her wrists and held them steady.

  “I would never forgive myself if I hurt you,” he said. “If you lost the baby because I took selfish pleasure from you—”

  “You haven’t touched me in so long,” she responded. “It makes me feel as if I’m nothing but a cow, as if you don’t want me anymore.” Her voice broke, and she fought back frustrated anger.

  “I’m dying with wanting you,” he answered. “Do you know how long it’s been?”

  “Almost five months,” she said.

  “Four months, three weeks, and five days,” he responded. He rolled her to her back and his mouth came to kiss her throat. “Twelve hours and thirty-two minutes.”

  She smiled in the dark at that. “You don’t know that for certain.”

  “And forty-five seconds,” he finished, his mouth kissing a path lower. “Every night we were apart, I worried about how I’d hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me at all,” she said. “But I couldn’t understand why you left me—” Victoria closed her eyes, fighting against the bitterness that rose up.

  “I was afraid,” he admitted. “Not just of hurting you… but of the way you made me feel. It was the most powerful thing I’d ever known. I thought if I stayed away for a time, I could go back to being the man I was. I was wrong.”

  She shivered when his hand moved to touch her sensitive breasts. His tongue flicked across one, and she reacted strongly, her body needing him.

  “I loved you, and I knew how badly I’d disrupted your life. I took you away from your home and tried to give you a world you didn’t want.”

  “You should have been truthful with me.” Her hands moved within his hair, arching when his mouth closed over the other nipple. She tried to reach for his body, to guide him atop her, but he withheld himself. “I would have gone willingly, if you’d given me time to adjust.”

  “Aunt Melanie wrote to me about what you did for the widows and orphans. About the shelter you built for them.”

  “It was a better use of your money than jewels or gowns,” she said, guiding his hands down lower. He cradled the bump of her womb, and the light flutter within it made her smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You gave sanctuary to women who had none. It’s what I wished I could have done for my mother.” He kissed her womb, and then brushed his hand over her mound of curls. Before he could move away, she guided his hand between her legs, revealing how badly she wanted him.

  He let out a low breath, cursing when he touched her wetness. “God above, you don’t know how badly I want to be inside you right now.” He teased the hooded flesh above her entrance, and though she tried not to make a sound, the ecstasy of his touch was making her more swollen.

  “I want you there, too.”

  But he ignored her, stroking her in a gentle rhythm that built up higher until she trembled. The sweet surrender broke through her in a shimmer of wondrous pleasure. A pleasure meant to be shared with the man she loved.

  He lay back upon the bed, lying so still, she wondered what he was thinking. She reached out to touch him, and he was so hard, he let out a gasp as she closed her fingers over him.

  “Victoria, no.”

  But she ignored him and lifted his hands above his head. “Don’t move your hands from this position. Be assured that I won’t let you hurt me at all.”

  He was rigid, almost groaning as she straddled him. “I’ve been thinking about you for so many weeks, wishing for another chance to be with you.” She lifted his shaft, guiding him inside her, and he slid within her wetness as if he’d been made to fill her.

  The exquisite sensation made her breathing shudder, and she gently lifted her hips and sank upon him again. Her husband’s arms were taut, his body tense as she moved.

  “You’re killing me,” he groaned. “You’re so tight and wet.”

  “I want you to feel the same joy I felt a moment ago,” she said. She wanted to bring him that rush of need, the torment and rise of ecstasy, until he found his release. But the more she rode him, the more her own body responded. Her breathing quickened as she took him inside as she transformed the pace.

  Her husband was moving in counterpoint, thrusting as she took him deep inside. He ignored her demand to keep his hands where they were and instead reached up to touch her breasts.

  “Again,” he demanded. “I want to watch you shatter again. This time with me inside you.” His fingers caressed her nipples, his thumbs pressing the sensitive tips as she ground herself against him. She took him faster, the wildness consuming her until she convulsed against him, the white heat spreading through every part of her body.

  Jonathan grasped her hips and when she shuddered upon him, he took his own pleasure, a growl tearing from his throat as he filled her with his essence. “I love you,” he murmured, still buried inside her as he gently guided her to rest on her side.

  Victoria kept one leg over his hip, holding his head against her heart. Every part of her was satisfied, and she reveled in the love they shared. It didn’t matter whether he was a duke or a servant. He was the man she adored, the man she wanted to share the rest of her life with.

  “If you never want to set foot outside again, it would be all right with me,” he teased, stealing a kiss. His hands moved up her spine, capturing her hair. “We could spend the rest of our lives in this bed.”

  She held him close, smiling as the sun filled their bedroom with light. “There will be time enough for that,” she agreed. “But I won’t live in fear again. Not with you at my side.”

  Epilogue

  THE GARDENS bloomed with hyacinths. Jonathan stood on the stone pathway, watching his wife. She sat upon a wooden bench and cradled their infant son in her arms. Her rose muslin gown was adorned with ribbons that swayed in the light breeze, making her resemble a rare blossom. The ties of her bonnet had come loose, and he was thankful she’d remembered to wear a pelisse. Many days, Victoria was so eager to be outside, she forgot one.

  Though it was early spring and slightly cold outside, she lifted her face to the sun and smiled. Little Christopher was bundled up in warm clothing, his blanket made of soft fleece.

  The sight of them constricted his throat. Both his wife and son were the greatest gifts he’d ever received, and he marveled that they were his family.

  When she saw him standing, Victoria smiled. “We’ve had a letter from Margaret. She’s getting married in London and has asked us to attend.”

  “And you want to make the journey?”

  She nodded. “I’ve already asked Mary to begin packing our belongings.” Jonathan moved to sit beside her, reaching out for his son’s hand. The small fingers closed around his knuckle, and he marveled that such a small being could have an enormous grasp upon his heart. But it was his wife who had become the other half of himself. He couldn’t imagine living without her.

  “Have you created any new designs for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables?” he asked, his hand sliding around her waist.

  “Perhaps,” she said, enigmatically. “I may need your guidance. Some of the newer designs might be too scandalous.”

  The blush on her cheeks made him laugh. “I hope they are.”

  Turning serious, she said, “I thought you believed my sewing wasn’t appropriate for a duchess.”

  “It is a risk, keeping this secret,” he to
ld her. “But if it pleases you to continue, I won’t stand in your way. You should consider allowing your sisters to take command of the business, however, and send them the designs as it suits you.” He leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck.

  “Then we don’t have to stop?”

  “I see no reason to deprive the crofters’ wives of an income. So long as no one finds out…”

  “It will remain a secret,” Victoria promised. She sobered a moment and asked, “You don’t think the Earl of Strathland will cause any more trouble, do you?”

  He shook his head. “I spoke with the wool buyers and made an arrangement. If he does not stay within his boundaries, they will not buy from him. His income depends upon his willingness to leave us in peace.” Since the death of his factor Melford, the earl had kept to himself. It was enough.

  Jonathan stood, offering his arm to lead them back inside. After kissing their son and giving him over to his nursemaid, Victoria took his hand in hers and guided him up the stairs.

  With a wicked smile, she turned over her shoulder. “I’m wearing your favorite color this time.”

  His imagination conjured up the vision of his wife in a scarlet chemise and nothing else. She laughed as she ran up the stairs, knowing he would catch her. Jonathan took the steps two at a time and lifted her into his arms. Nuzzling her throat, he opened the door to his bedchamber and brought her inside.

  He reached for the buttons of her gown and when he bared her skin, he found the crimson silk she’d promised. As he lifted the gown away, he saw her staring outside at the sunlight. And for a moment, he held her, sensing the wistfulness within her.

  “I never thought I would be grateful for a gunshot wound,” he murmured against her nape.

  “You set me free.” Victoria turned in his arms, raising her gray eyes to his. “For that, I will always be grateful.”

  He framed her face with his hands, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Against her mouth, he tasted the sweetness of their future together.