The Duke of Morewether’s Secret

by Amylynn Bright

  She clucked her tongue at him. “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it is, but London seems to adore you anyway.”

  “When do I do this flouting?”

  “You don’t take a chaperone with you even when you’re out with me. You refuse to dance at balls — rightly so. You argue archeology in front of a room full of learned gentlemen — and you’re correct. You collect obscene pottery, for God’s sake.”

  Thea laughed. “It’s not. Those urns are important pieces of Greek history.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he told her with a grin, “and I’m certainly not going to argue with you about it.”

  “If I did take him …”

  “When you take him,” Christian amended.

  “I really want him,” she confessed in a whisper. Alberton Star sealed the deal by resting his horsey head on her opposite shoulder in some sort of equine embrace. Thea closed her eyes and leaned into the horse for a second, then opened them and rewarded Christian with a smile that bypassed his groin and drove straight to his heart.

  Christian pulled on the tether, heading towards her front door. “Capital. Let’s take him inside, shall we. That way you can thank me properly.”

  “Christian,” she said his name with a laugh. “Do not take that horse inside my house.”

  “Oh, right. Where do you intend to keep him, then?” Christian cast a glance about the exterior of her townhouse. “I guess we could tie him up here on the railing. No one would filch him, right?”

  She quirked a knowing eyebrow. “I have a feeling you already have a plan.”

  “Oh, dear, you have me. I do have a plan. Go put on your habit. I’ll wait for you here.”

  A breathless fifteen minutes later, she ran back down the stairs. Thea held onto the horse’s lead on the walk to Christian’s stable where they saddled up and Christian led them on a ride out of London.

  For the first time since Christian had met Althea, he was confident, sure of himself. So far, things were going exactly like his friends had told him they would.

  Now for the culmination of the plan.

  Thea was trying her absolute best not to let the feeling of giddiness get out of control, but it was difficult. Alberton Star trotted underneath her, his muscles bunching with restrained power. Christian rode his stallion beside her on the quiet country road looking more handsome than any man had a right to. Their conversation was comfortable, and they laughed often on the way to his horse farm where she would board her new mount. She didn’t know when she’d been happier.

  It was astounding, really, that she had come to care for this man. Her first impression had been so wrong. He was not a cad. His family and friends were the most important people in his life. He was responsible and caring and thoughtful … And, she was beginning to think he cared for her.

  Up to today, she’d been concerned only her sensibilities were at risk. As often as she’d insisted she wasn’t in England to find a husband that tired line was beginning to make a fool of her. She found herself more and more often drifting away into daydreams, and Christian was in every single one of them. She tried to deal with him and her changing impressions in every way she could imagine. She’d snubbed him, she’d insulted him, and she’d even given in and tried unsuccessfully to seduce him thinking that would get him out of her system. All to no good end. When she’d thought she was finally free, when he’d insulted her and proven his true mettle, he’d ruined everything by apologizing with utmost humility, giving her one of the most exciting days since she’d come to England, and now he’d given her the perfect gift.

  And Zeus help her, she’d accepted the horse. Even though it was wrong, she’d taken that gift, and thereby responsibility for whatever debauched thing he thought of for repayment. The thing was, though, she didn’t think he had nefarious plans when he conceived of his present. He still seemed genuinely pleased at her delight in Alberton Star.

  She leaned forward and patted the horse’s thick, muscular neck and ran her fingers through his mane. They were alone on the final stretch of country lane before reaching his estate having turned off from the main thoroughfare from the village some minutes before. Woods stretched out on the left, a pasture of grazing mares on the right. The only thing missing that would make the scene perfect was a beach with endless azure water stretching out before her. Thea shifted her gaze to the man riding next to her and couldn’t help admiring his masculine beauty as much as she had the countryside and the animal beneath her.

  Then something very, very bad happened. Christian reached his hand across the distance between their two mounts and took her hand. And that was the moment, the minute, the very second, when Althea realized she loved him.

  Oh, there’s trouble now.

  “Do you really like him?” Christian asked, rather stupidly Thea thought, after several minutes of peaceful, romantic hand-holding on his part and panic and nausea on hers.

  “Not really,” she said, “I would have preferred a new horse. This one’s been used.”

  Christian chuckled. “Sorry. That was rather inane, wasn’t it?”

  “Quite.”

  He crooked his head to the right and Thea looked past him to the bucolic meadow over his shoulder. “Come with me.”

  “Lead on.” Her stomach flipped as soon as Christian turned his mount and trotted towards the field.

  Hold yourself together, Thea. You’ll get through this.

  They dismounted under a tree where she discovered a waiting picnic basket.

  “Did you plan this?” she asked and watched him shake out an enormous wool blanket. He dropped his gloves into his hat and tossed both on the blanket. He held out his hand for hers, and she complied, indelicately shoving the leather gloves into her riding hat.

  He pulled a bottle of wine from the basket. “Plan what? This picnic? Oh heavens no. We happened upon it. I’m certain some lovers will trot along any second and rout us from the place.”

  Thea smiled at his silliness and didn’t know what to do with herself. Now that she’d admitted to herself she was in love with him, she didn’t know how to act. Should she sit? Was that too forward? Stop fidgeting. “Don’t you own all this land?”

  “Thereabouts.” He added strawberries, cheeses and breads to the blanket.

  “Do you suppose fairies left the basket?” She swallowed hard. A lock of ebony hair fell across his forehead. She really was really thirsty — she was as dry as any desert. Any beverage would suffice.

  “Certainly not.” He shook his head with conviction. “I had the gardener spray for fairies this spring. Can’t abide them.”

  That brought a spontaneous giggle from her and released the pressure the tiniest bit.

  “Are you going to help me eat this stolen bounty or flit about at the edge of the blanket?”

  “Shouldn’t someone be prepared to defend us if it was highwaymen who left the basket?” she said but sat on the blanket anyway, not too near him. She was afraid he would be able to sense the change in her and her new born feelings seemed too fragile for scrutiny.

  “Sprayed for them, too.”

  Christian broke the distance between them, adjusting his position so he was near enough if she bent her head towards him she would be able to inhale his scent, leather and horse and male.

  “Do you know why I gave you the horse?” His voice took on an intimate tone, low and soft.

  Thea risked a glance at him. “Because Lord Harrington made you?”

  “No.” He took her hand in his again, skin to skin. “Because I wanted to give you a gift. An important gift. Something you would really want and would mean something to you.”

  Oh. “I see.” Thea swallowed hard and broke their intense eye contact.

  “You know how important my family is to me, don’t you?” Christian asked. Thea wasn’t sure if she was following the conversation after such a strange segue. She was having an awfully hard time breathing. Had she lost consciousness?

  “I think so.” Thea
blinked at him. “At least I’ve seen you with your nephew whom you clearly adore and your mother whom you cherish.”

  “I was particular about Francesca’s match, too,” he admitted, referring to his sister and the engagement she broke off with a good friend, Lord Dalton, to marry Christian’s best friend several years ago.

  “Well, whatever hand you played in that match, bravo. She and Lord Harrington seem exquisitely happy.”

  “That’s just it,” he said, and gently squeezed her fingers. “I had no hand in it. I wanted her to marry Dalton and that would have been a disaster. It they’d listened to my ranting and gone through with it, Frankie and Dalton would have been tolerably happy together, a regular society marriage. The crime would have been in never allowing the love between her and Harrington to grow. And Dalton would never have found Olivia, and look how they are together.”

  Thea envisioned the four lovers and couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

  “I have. For weeks now, happy marriages and how to achieve one have been an all-consuming thought. Harrington and Dalton finally connected the dots for me this morning.”

  A tiny wrinkle appeared on Thea’s brow. She didn’t say anything because that would have required breath, oxygen, and that particular item was quite scarce in the meadow just now.

  “I want what they have. I want a family with children of my own, ones like my nephew. I want a wife who spars with me, who makes me think, who challenges me at every turn. One who makes me laugh and sigh with contentment the next second. One who won’t allow me to take myself too seriously. I want a beautiful, exotic wife.”

  OhmyGod. OhmyGod. OhmyGod. He had risen to both knees in front of her.

  “Althea, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  How long do you have to wait for a woman to speak before you instinctively understand the answer is no? Ten seconds? Thirty? If this silence went on much longer, Christian would explode. His eyes searched her face for an answer, trying hard to keep the desperation and mounting panic from seeping out. Do women smell fear? Oh God, what if he’d been wrong? He was going to tear Harrington and Dalton limb from limb.

  It was much easier to think about revenge against his friends than to contemplate how utterly destroyed he was going to be if Thea refused him.

  Christ, now she was crying. Not sobbing, heaving tears, but there was definitely moisture. “Thea?” he asked, afraid to spook her and set her off into distraught hysterics.

  She nodded, slow at first and then faster. Her smile grew in proportion. Then, finally, the word Christian so desperately needed to hear. “Yes.”

  “Oh thank God.” Christian practically launched himself at her. In one solid movement he wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her to her knees and the other hand behind her head to guide her mouth to his. There was no sweet preamble to the kiss. It was a kiss not fueled solely by desire, but there was plenty seething in the background, waiting for the excitement to wear down. The heart he’d so carefully preserved swelled to bursting. She was going to be his.

  His.

  “I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion when they finally came up for air.

  “I can hardly believe it, but I love you, too.”

  “I thought you were going to say no,” he told her while kissing her neck.

  “You’ve changed my mind about things these last several weeks.” She extended her neck to give him better access and ran her fingers through his hair.

  “What finally did it — changed me from loathed to beloved?” She tasted fabulous, like honey. His lips traveled along her collar bone and found the hollow of her throat.

  Thea pulled back from their embrace. “Do we have to talk about this right now or can we celebrate properly?”

  Christian couldn’t help but laugh. “I really do love you. You’re perfect.”

  “Enough talk or are you too nervous to carry on?”

  “I have this under control, woman.” He kissed her to shut her up, long and deep, his tongue exploring the sensitive flesh of her mouth and lips, his tongue soothing over hers. All the while, his fingers undid the buttons of her habit until he was able to push it off her shoulders, leaving her arms pinned next to her sides. Still on their knees facing each other, Thea was at his mercy — precisely where he wanted his lovely fiancée.

  “You’re good at that,” she told him when his lips traveled to her jaw line.

  “Hmmmm?” He finessed the buttons of her blouse.

  “Kissing.” The huskiness in her voice urged him on.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I wanted to give you some encouragement in case you needed it.” She squirmed against her clothes and furrowed her brow in frustration. “So long as you’re only kissing me.”

  “I’m confident you’ll be keeping me more than busy.” He cupped her breasts through her chemise. Even through the fabric, her nipples were responsive to the stimulation of his fingers and thumbs. He tested the weight of her breasts and pinched the buds of her nipples before taking one in his mouth and sucking on it through the cotton chemise. She whimpered until he rasped his teeth against the pebbled flesh. Then she gasped. Very gratifying.

  “Christian.” She was breathy. “I want —”

  “I know what you want. You deserve the full rake treatment, and the full rake treatment you shall get.”

  She wriggled her arms again in an attempt to free them from her dress and blouse. “I can’t move,” she complained. “I can’t touch you.”

  “I’ve got you right where I want you.” He chuckled then kissed her lips, a quick kiss so he could get back to more important things. He attended to her other breast through the fabric until she moaned.

  “Tell me you love me — say it in Greek,” he whispered against the naked skin of her chest after he’d untied the ribbon of her chemise. The garment gaped open revealing the voluptuous slope of her breasts.

  “S ‘agapo,” she told him, her voice so husky it drove him nearly mad.

  “Say it again slower so I can learn it.”

  “Sa-ga-po,” she said and emphasized the last syllable.

  He repeated the word slowly, feathering her skin with his breath. “Say something else.” His hand slid into the opening of her chemise and finally his fingers found the flesh of her nipples.

  Thea moaned and Christian gently pinched her furled nipple as a reward. “Like what?” she finally said.

  “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  She spoke another phrase and wiggled her arms emphatically.

  “Let your arms loose?” He tweaked her gently again. “You’re going to have to ask me nicely because I quite enjoy plying you with my rakish skills.” Christian tore her chemise, rending the v-opening all the way to her navel, then used his mouth to emphasize his point. He quite enjoyed the whimpers and sighs which proved she quite enjoyed it as well.

  “You like that?” He purred the words against her skin. Probably his favorite body part, Christian had always been a breast man. Hers were magnificent. He lifted them, pressed them together so the nipples were close together and he could worry both of them with his tongue, lips, and teeth.

  Thea nodded and watched him intently, her gaze heated. Her arms strained against the binding of the material restraining them. “Christian.” She was pleading.

  “Thea.” His teeth rasped over the rosy, tight buds. His hands traveled along the velvety soft skin over her ribcage and settled at her waist. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Please, you’re killing me. Let me go.” Again she wiggled her arms. “Please.”

  He gripped the sides of her torn chemise and finished ripping it open until both sides hung loose. She knelt before him, naked and magnificent but for the habit, blouse and chemise hanging at her sides. “You have to tell me in Greek.”

  She spoke again, the foreign sounds lush from her swollen lips, several long phrases tumbling loose. The sounds
were erotic and lusty even though he had no idea what she said.

  “That was a lot of Greek. Were you cursing at me?” He squeezed her waist and then slid his hand a little further until he reached her nude rear end and squeezed one cheek. Thea squeaked.

  “No. Den. But I’m going to if you don’t let my hands free.”

  Christian lifted the peak of one breast in his mouth, suckled and teased with his tongue. His other hand brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs bringing a gasp from Thea.

  “ Theé mou …”

  Christian recognized that phrase. Any exhortations to the Lord he took as encouraging. Oh, she was slick already. His index finger slid between her folds and found the button there that would bring her the greatest jolt.

  “Don’t stop,” Thea cried, and swayed. Christian caught her with both hands. “Den stamatoún.”

  He steadied her and smiled into her frustrated eyes. She tilted her head to kiss him and he obliged her, pulling her naked body against his clothed one, wool and linen abraded her flushed, sensitive skin.

  “Do you concede?” he asked.

  “What?” She was confused which meant he’d won. He didn’t care anymore. She was his and he’d managed to prove he was up to the task. Now all he wanted was to love her, let loose some of his hard fought control, to claim her body as his own. He slid his hand between her legs again. “Oh, yes.”

  He yanked at her sleeves and she pulled until her arms came free. Now that her hands were loose, she had no problem finding somewhere to put them. Under his jacket, she opened his waistcoat, yanked his shirt tails from his trousers and had her hands on his skin in moments.

  “You know I do,” she told him while her palms and probing fingers slid across his abdomen, his muscles twitching in response to the caress.

  Christian lowered her backward until she rested on the tartan blanket, supine and inviting. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Christian remained on his knees between her legs long enough to divest himself of his jacket and waistcoat. He yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it on the blanket. Thea beckoned to him, and he gratefully sank into her arms. Resting his weight on his forearms, he melted into a kiss, her tongue stroked with his. His fiancée was eager; her hips moving in tandem with his, and it drove him mad. Before he lost control completely, Christian broke the kiss and moved down the length of her body, kissing and nipping her flesh, licking the sensitive skin under her breasts, dipping his tongue in her navel. His hand moved to the apex of her thighs again and stroked her where she was most sensitive.