The Duchess in His Bed

by Heath Lorraine

  “Lushing liked the openness of it, but he had few fond memories of the place. His father was most strict when he was growing up. Then they had their falling-out, and it was years before he was able to return here.”

  “Disappointing a father was certainly nothing I ever had to worry over.”

  “Was it difficult growing up without a father?”

  Slowly he shook his head. “My mum was a strong woman, like you. She was all I needed.”

  Her eyes softened, her cheeks pinkened. “Even when you’re a bit put out with me, you still manage to flirt with your little compliments.”

  “I’m not flirting if what I say is true.”

  Her lips twitched. “More flirtation, but never mind. I feared you might not arrive in time. I want to show you something.” With her left hand, she grabbed her right, and he wondered if she’d been on the verge of taking his and had to remind herself it would not do.

  He followed her inside, through a maze of hallways until eventually they came to the area where the tower loomed. The curved wall and spiral staircase told him where they were. Without stopping, she began ascending the stairs, giving him a lovely view of her backside as he trailed up behind her. At the top, she opened a door and led him out onto the crenelated walkway. When she had traversed half of it, she turned to face him, her features wreathed with a solemn joy.

  “This was always my favorite part of Sheffield Hall.” She nodded away from the roofline behind them.

  When he looked out, he couldn’t stop his breath from hitching at the sight of the angel gilded in late afternoon sunlight, giving the impression the wings weren’t spread to signify its protection of the manor but instead to declare, “Behold all that is glorious and beautiful!”

  Within the carriage or from his perch atop the horse, he’d seen the green and the hedgerows and the trees. He’d seen the land stretching out before him. He’d caught bits of acreage here and there and thought he could assemble all of it into a whole. But from up here, the massive estate spread out in all its glory as the waning sun bathed it in cooling twilight.

  Perhaps it was because no servants were about or the waist-high height of the wall provided some protection from prying eyes, but without taking her gaze from the marvel before them, she threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. I love it here, she might as well have announced. See what I see and love it as well. I’ll bring your son up here and share this sight with him.

  And he imagined her doing just that. Being kind and loving and introducing her child to a world that far eclipsed anything he could offer. It was unfair, to look from on high and to see unfolding before him all that his child would possess.

  All it required of him were a few nights of being lost in mad, passionate lovemaking—not a hardship at all—

  And then walking away, never, ever, to look back.

  Because he’d come to realize what she had yet to understand: a life lived in shadows was no life at all.

  Chapter 19

  Dinner was decidedly more formal than luncheon. They took it in what she described as the small dining room, which meant the table sat only about a dozen people. She’d offered to let him borrow the duke’s dinner attire, but he wasn’t about to don anything that would remind her of her late husband, although he suspected being in residence did that well enough.

  Conversation was stilted, sparse as though they both had other more pressing matters occupying their minds. Now and then, her lips moved as though she was contemplating the wisdom of forming the question and he knew precisely what it would be: Have you decided?

  If she did dare ask it, he didn’t know if he’d voice the word out loud or merely shake his head. Because he didn’t bloody well know what the answer was.

  When the ordeal of dinner was thankfully over, they walked out into the hallway, feet dragging, like mourners headed for the crypt. In a cavernous room where stairs led up to bedchambers, she stopped and faced him. Her lips parted—

  “I don’t know yet,” he said quietly.

  With a sigh that held both patience and understanding, she nodded. “I believe I shall retire. It’s been a long, taxing day, and we’ll depart early in the morning. Sleep well.”

  He doubted he’d sleep at all, especially as now he was wandering through the manor like a wraith, a glass of excellent scotch in hand. Gillie would approve as it went down smoothly, filling him with a lethargic warmth.

  Everywhere he looked, he saw history. The fading of the tapestries indicated they had existed for centuries, but he was rather certain they weren’t a recent purchase. No, they had been handed down through generations. Throughout the residence, armor was displayed. Whether it was a full suit worn by a knight or merely the breastplate, shiny but dented, a brass plaque indicated to which duke it had belonged. Some plaques went even further and identified battles in which it had been tested. If he gave Lena a son, the lad would take pride in this heritage, would believe it his own. He’d never know the truth regarding from whence he truly came.

  It seemed both deceitful and protective at the same time.

  What did it matter what one believed of one’s past? It was what one did with the present that was of import.

  Aiden had always embraced what was to his benefit. But he’d been insulted when Lena had offered him her property in exchange for his services. He didn’t want payment. He wanted her. And he could have her—as long as no one knew.

  She had shown him what he would give his child, and damn her for making him see how grand it all would be. The additional benefit was knowing he’d be pulling the wool over the eyes of the Society that shunned him. And what was in it for him? Satisfaction, a bit of retribution, and more nights of being nestled between Lena’s thighs.

  And to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do: be responsible for bringing a bastard into the world.

  Even though the child wouldn’t be viewed as such, it went against his core principle.

  Finishing off his scotch, he left the glass on a table in a hallway, certain a servant would find it. The place gleamed to such an extent, he imagined they had an army of servants, not that he’d seen many other than the butler and a couple of footmen. The rest were hidden away because it wouldn’t do for the lord and lady of the manor to see them going about their labors, to know exactly what was required to keep the place sparkling like sunlight.

  He located the stairs that led to the bedchambers. They were wide enough to accommodate a coach traveling up them. At the top, the landing split into two hallways. He took the one to the left, strolled the length of it to his room at the end. He closed his hand around the knob, pressed his forehead to the polished wood.

  He thought of her waiting in her bedchamber, waiting for him, waiting for his decision. He remembered the way she had watched the sunset, the estate stretched out before them. She’d gazed upon it with appreciation—not the greed that had been mirrored in his eyes. She wanted none of this for herself. She needed it in order to ensure those she loved had the best that life had to offer.

  He was not one of the people she loved or she wouldn’t ask of him what she had. She should have taken his rejection and moved on to another. The fact that she hadn’t hinted that perhaps she did have a small care for him or perhaps he had succeeded in his original plan and caused her to at least desire him, to want him in her bed.

  She was brave, courageous, kind, unselfish. She placed the needs of others before her own. She moved him in ways no one else ever had.

  He’d never planned to marry, to have children, to fall in love. He wasn’t in love now. He was fairly certain of it. But damn her for stirring something within him that made it impossible not to at least try to give her what she wanted. Damn her for managing to worm her way into his very being so when it came time to walk away, it would be like tearing a hole in his very soul. And he knew eventually he would have to walk away in order to protect the child, to protect Lena.

  His common sense and pride insisted that he end things now.
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  But his heart, that part of him that had never served any other purpose than to pump blood through his veins, his heart had him turning on his heel, heading back down the hallway, opening the door to her bedchamber, and striding over the threshold.

  He came to her.

  He looked like a man suffering the torments of hell, but he’d come to her.

  She was standing at the window in her nightdress, counting the minutes until midnight because she had decided that if he didn’t come to her by the witching hour, she would go to him, not to pressure, not to ask of him what he had no desire to give, but simply because she wanted another night within his arms.

  He stopped in the middle of the room, on the lush Aubusson carpet. His jacket, waistcoat, and neck cloth were gone, and she imagined he’d been wandering the halls in only his shirt, trousers, and boots.

  Slowly she gave freedom to her buttons, noting the way his eyes tracked the path of her fingers. When the last one was free of its mooring, she eased the soft linen off her left shoulder, then her right, and gave a little wiggle, sending the cotton on its journey to the floor. Although he’d seen her bared before, still she heard the hitch of his breath, as though he’d been waiting the entire length of his life for this moment.

  Her steps were silent, her toes sinking into the thick weave of the carpet, as she glided over to him. “I’m glad you came to me. If you hadn’t, I’d have come to you.” Reaching up, she cupped his shadowed jaw, not at all bothered that he was in need of a shave, having refused earlier to use Lushing’s razor. “I want you in my bed tonight.”

  “I haven’t any sheaths.”

  So he had decided against spilling his seed into her. She was surprised the disappointment was less than she’d expected. But then she respected the thought he’d given his decision, that he struggled with his obligation to do what was right, that he didn’t see her as simply a woman to be plowed. Because she’d come to see him as more than a possible sire for her child. She desired this man, craved the feel of him between her thighs. Admired all that he was. He who had been born with nothing had risen above it all and achieved success. He who had been unfairly treated did not blame others for his circumstances. He took responsibility for himself, his actions. And it was that devotion that would see him not giving her the child she sought.

  But she found no fault with it. Instead it made her love him just a little bit more.

  And she did love him. She wasn’t certain when the realization came upon her. But she wouldn’t burden him with that truth because there was no future for them. She did not have the freedom that Lady Aslyn or Lady Lavinia had to marry without considering Societal rank or privilege. They did not have siblings dependent upon them. She could not risk being shunned by Society. A direct cut to her would have ramifications for her sisters.

  She glided her hand down to his shirt and flicked the first secured button through its opening. “You can leave me, spill your seed elsewhere. You once told me that I warranted a scandalous and thorough seduction. Consider me thoroughly seduced.”

  His feral growl was in direct contrast to the gentleness with which he claimed her mouth. Even as she fell into the wonder of it, of how each kiss was unlike any other, she continued on with her task of freeing his buttons.

  Breaking away from her, he glided his hand down her arm until he could lace his fingers with hers. Then he began pulling her from the room. “Not here. I don’t want to take you in a bed where another had you, where other memories reside.”

  She dug in her heels. “Let me get my wrap.”

  He gave her a teasing, provocative smile. “Who’s going to see?”

  When he tugged, she didn’t resist, but followed him into the hallway, a small nervous giggle escaping. She covered her mouth. Never before had she wandered about nude outside of her own chambers. It was at once decadent and titillating, wicked. Breaking free of his hold, she dashed toward the corner room that the servants had prepared for him. She heard the echo of his quickening steps as he rushed after her. Darting into his chamber, she came to an abrupt halt and swung around to face him.

  With purpose mirrored in his gaze, he slammed the door shut. Quickly he dragged his shirt over his head before divesting himself of his boots and the remainder of his clothing in smooth, practiced moves that had Selena’s mouth going dry. She’d seen him in the buff before. Still it was a pleasure to see him so again. And she thought if she lived to be a hundred, she’d never tire of the sight, even as a spark of reality reminded her that tonight would no doubt be the last time ever. Tomorrow they would return to London only to part ways: he to his scandalous gaming hells and she to search for another accomplice in her quest to deceive the Crown.

  Presently, though, she didn’t want to consider options or speculate as to whom she might approach. She wanted only to be focused on her remaining hours with this man who caused her to experience emotions that were new to her, who brought forth her passions with the ease one pulled a book off a shelf, who had shown her she was a creature of wants, needs, and desires when it came to the flesh.

  Although perhaps it was not as general as all that. Perhaps it was more specific. All her needs were related to him, for certainly she’d never looked upon another man and thought, I shall die if I do not have him.

  It was his touch she craved, his body melding with hers, his hands stroking, his mouth devouring.

  She held her ground as he prowled toward her, his movements sensual and predatory, just as they’d been that first night when she’d seen him at the club. When he reached her, she lifted her arms to welcome him. With an undulation of her fingers moving across his scalp, she tangled them in the strands of his hair as she flattened her breasts against his broad chest and welcomed his mouth returning to hers with an urgency that spoke volumes regarding his own desires. She was the object of them, the focus.

  They weren’t engaged in a simple mating between two individuals, but a mating between Aiden Trewlove and Selena Sheffield. The individuals mattered. It was his eyes of dark brown into which she wanted to gaze. His coarsened palms she relished skimming over her skin. His groans that were music to her ears. His roughened voice growling her name over and over like a benediction that caused her heart to pump more madly, joy to spiral out from her core until it encompassed the entirety of the world.

  Even if that world at present was small, only them, ensconced in a bedchamber in which she’d never before slept.

  Oh, how wise he was to insist they come to a room that held no memories. None of their stolen moments here would be intruded upon. Through the years as she took them out to savor them, they would mix with no other remembrances, would forever remain their own, pristine and untouched by anything that had come before.

  She was barely aware of his backing her up until her knees hit the mattress. Lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all, he tossed her onto the velveteen duvet and followed her down, covering her body with his as he once again plundered her mouth.

  His flavor was rich and dark, oaky. Scotch had recently passed his lips, and she wondered if the remnants on his tongue were responsible for the drunkenness she was experiencing or if it was merely his nearness that made her dizzy and breathless. He was the finest of liquors, and she feared she’d never have enough of him. That she would always long for another taste, another sip, another joining.

  He trailed his wicked mouth over every inch of her as though he were memorizing the words in a book so if the tome were no longer available to be held in his hands, he could still find pleasure in recalling every sentence that made up the story. A lick here, a nip there, a stroke of his velvety tongue where her skin was its silkiest.

  Everything within her tightened, everything reached for him, for this man who could stir her to life so easily. She felt no embarrassment as her moans and gasps echoed around them. Instead she reveled in the sounds, in how he managed to make her feel comfortable enough to release them. Within his arms, she felt as though she could reveal her true se
lf: wanton and lustful.

  After spreading her legs wide, he placed his hands beneath her bottom, tilted her slightly, and plunged deep and sure. Her cry of pleasure erupted unheeded. It was so marvelous to have him within her once again. Only one night had passed without their bodies joined and yet it had seemed an eternity.

  Resting on his elbows, he threaded his fingers through hers, held her hands in place on either side of her head on the pillow. A pang of regret lanced her because she understood the reasons behind his actions. He feared she would dig her fingers into his buttocks and hold him in place when he was desperate to leave her and spill his seed elsewhere.

  “I won’t take what you don’t wish to give,” she whispered.

  His eyes were dark, penetrating. Lowering his head, he kissed her thoroughly before rising up over her, holding her gaze, and sliding out of her, only to glide back in. Over and over, slowly, languidly. His fingers clutching hers.

  He increased the tempo. She watched his hair flap against his brow, dew begin coating his chest, his nostrils flaring as his breathing became harsher. Her body responded in kind, meeting his thrusts, gyrating as she took him deep, so deep she felt as though he had pierced her soul. Sensations began to build, rolling up from her toes. She squeezed her thighs against his hips, striving to contain the pleasure, not yet ready for it to have its way with her, for him to leave her.

  They moved in tandem, giving and taking, eliciting gratification from the other. As though he knew precisely what she needed, his movements became more frenzied, harder, more purposeful, until ecstasy took hold and burst through her. She cried out his name, bowed her back, pressed her head more deeply into the pillow. As much as she fought against it, she couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes as sublime bliss overtook her. It felt as though her nerve endings had become stars shooting through the heavens.