At The Duke's Pleasure

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “I am sorry,” he said. “It was thoughtless of me and wrong, but you were a child then and I never imagined your feelings might be injured. I did not mean to hurt you, that was not my intention.”

  “I am sure it wasn’t.” Her lips tightened, her gaze rising to meet his own. “But you may keep your pity, Your Grace. I have no need of it.”

  “You certainly do not,” he agreed. “Any woman as spirited and resourceful as yourself has no need of anyone’s pity, least of all mine. As for being forgotten or dismissed, I am as likely to do that now as I am to disremember my next breath. You are quite memorable, Claire. Even more so after tonight.”

  A wisp of colour came into her cheeks. “Ah, yes, tonight. I am quite ruined, you know. There’ll be no showing my face in London again.”

  “You may show your face in London whenever you like. We put the word ’round that you went home ill. The Ton thinks you’re tucked up tight in bed at Clybourne House. You heard what I said to Islington. He’s not going to dispute our story, not if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Oh.” She lowered her gaze, a tiny frown puckering her fair brows.

  “Are you disappointed?” he asked. “I suppose you would rather I’d let everyone think the worst.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

  “Do you really want to end things between us?”

  “Don’t you?” she asked, her eyes rimmed with surprise.

  “No. Despite everything you’ve put me through, I want you, Claire. In my bed. In my life. As my bride.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Hear me out, then you can decide. You’re right that we came together for reasons of convenience and obligation. But over the past few months, things have changed between us. I’ve come to know you in ways I never imagined I would. You infuriate me at times—far more often than I might wish—but you also please me greatly. Marrying you is no longer only about duty and honour and responsibility. I want to marry you, and not simply because we were promised to each other as children.”

  He moved a step closer. “The plain truth is that I desire you. I’m not sure you realize how much. It’s all I can do not to come to your room at night and make love to you until neither one of us can think clearly. But I’ve been forcing myself to stay away, assuming you needed time and distance in order to acclimate to the idea of our marriage.”

  His lips curved into a deprecating smile. “I begin to think now I should have done away with the gallantry and made those midnight visits instead.”

  New colour rushed over her cheeks, her eyes gleaming with a wealth of emotions.

  Reaching out, he took her hand. “As for your assumptions about being required to produce an heir, I want it understood that you are under no obligation to do so.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he forestalled her.

  “I want children,” he explained, “and I hope we shall have several. But as for their gender, either sex shall do. If we have nothing but daughters, I shall count myself blessed.”

  “But how can you say that?” she declared. “You need a son to carry on the title. You want an heir.”

  He shook his head. “I have an heir, my brother Cade, who could step easily into my shoes and would make an excellent duke. And he has a son already, so the line is assured. Besides Cade, I have four other brothers, who are all Byrons as fully as me. Any one of them would do admirably in my stead. So even if you were to give me no children at all, it would not be the end of the world or of the Clybourne legacy.”

  “Yes, but even so—”

  “Even so,” he murmured, “I would still want you. I’ve become quite fixed on the idea of having you for my wife, resistant as you may be to the idea.”

  “Edward,” she whispered, a tear sliding from one eye.

  He brushed it away with his thumb. “Am I Edward again, then?”

  A second tear slid over her cheek.

  “Shh, don’t cry,” he hushed. “Have I made you unhappy again? Don’t be sad, Claire.” He sighed, resignation sliding over him. “It’s all right. If you’d rather go back to your father, then I’ll find some way to convince him to take you back with no shame coming to bear upon you. I’ll take all the blame and he can rail at me for the rest of his life. It’s what you’ve been wanting, is it not? To be free of me. Is it still your wish?”

  Claire could hardly breathe for the pressure in her chest, her thoughts scattered, her emotions in turmoil.

  He was letting her go.

  He was giving her exactly what she’d struggled to achieve these long weeks past.

  Yet nothing he’d said tonight had been what she’d expected. She could barely take in all the passionate things he’d said. She didn’t know what to think or what to do. While it was true that he hadn’t actually said he loved her, he must have feelings for her. Mustn’t he? He wanted her and clearly he was not indifferent to her. Not any longer. But was desire enough to sustain a marriage? Was liking on one side and love on the other enough to last a lifetime? Quite likely, he would still break her heart.

  But wasn’t it broken already?

  A serious expression darkened Edward’s gaze. “What is it to be then? Shall I send you back home?”

  Her mouth trembled, more tears dampening her eyes. Suddenly she shook her head and flung her arms around him. “No! No, don’t send me away. I thought I could leave, but I can’t. Not anymore. Not ever.”

  Then before she could draw her next breath, his mouth was on hers, taking her with a savage kiss that staked his claim upon her in a way that left no doubt of his intentions or his desire.

  Wrapping her arms around him as tightly as they would go, Claire kissed him back.

  Chapter 21

  Fifteen minutes later, Claire was still in Edward’s arms and still being kissed. But the two of them weren’t in the private parlour any longer. Instead, they’d made their way down the hall to the room Islington had originally reserved.

  For an extra handful of coins, the sleepy innkeeper had been only too happy to give them the accommodation. And for another handful, he’d agreed to forget that Claire had arrived with a gentleman other than Edward.

  Now she and Edward were alone inside the chamber. A wide wooden bed dominated the clean but homely room, the coverlet and sheets turned back with drowsy invitation. There was a dresser, a washstand, and a small table on top of which stood a single branch of candles. The small amount of light helped dispel the heavy night time darkness, with more illumination provided by the glow from the warm fire crackling in the grate.

  But the fire wasn’t the only thing emitting heat—Claire was as well. Her senses sizzled, hungry need burning through her with such ferocity, she wondered if she might be consumed by the flames. Slanting her mouth against Edward’s, she shared another deep, rapacious kiss, glorying in the flood of dark pleasure and dizzying delight.

  She quivered as his wide, capable palms stroked over her back, sliding low, then lower still to fondle the pliant curves of her hips and bottom. Anchoring her arms around his neck, she stretched higher, powerfully aware of the hard jut of his erection as it pressed insistently against her stomach.

  He claimed her lips in another long, drugging kiss that stole the air from her lungs and the strength from her muscles. But she had no fear of falling.

  Not with Edward there to hold her.

  Not with Edward there to keep her safe.

  And yet, when his fingers began unfastening the buttons on the back of her gown, she couldn’t help but experience one last twinge of uncertainty. After tonight, there would be no changing her mind, no going back ever again. Once she gave herself to Edward, she would be his unconditionally and forever.

  But I am his already, she thought with a kind of finality. Maybe I have been from the very day I was born.

  And if he never comes to love me?

  Ruthlessly, she pushed the thought away, determined not to let herself have regrets, or to in any way spoil this magical night.


  Edward wanted her.

  She wanted him.

  So let the night unfold as it would. Let her revel in the joy of being with the one man she was absolutely helpless to resist.

  The one and only man she knew she would ever love.

  Then she had no more time for speculation or doubt as he gently lowered her arms from around his neck and slipped her silk gown from her body.

  Her nipples tightened instantaneously as he stripped away the dress, then tossed it onto a nearby chair. She trembled, resisting the urge to cover herself with her arms, glad for the warmth of the room.

  Silly, she thought, considering that he’d already seen her naked once before; memories returning of that day in his study when she’d been spread across his desk like a succulent confection. So why a bout of modesty should befall her now, when she was still dressed in her shift and stays, she couldn’t imagine.

  Yet Edward seemed to instinctively understand, skimming his warm hands over her cool bare arms before leaning down to take her lips in a sweet, leisurely kiss. Her qualms floated away on a haze of delight, her body knowing what it craved and not averse to taking it.

  Away came her stays, laces parting before she knew he had them undone. Tossing the undergarment after her gown, he cupped his hands around her breasts and finessed her aching flesh through the final barrier of her sheer lawn shift. Leaning into him, she let him boldly caress her, quavering as he tugged the ribbon open on her bodice and exposed her breasts to his appreciative eyes and hands.

  For even in the room’s low light, there was no mistaking the fact that he approved of what he saw, his eyelids growing heavy, his arousal even more pronounced as it strained against his already snug black evening breeches. So much so that it was a wonder the buttons didn’t pop straight off.

  But Edward apparently had other concerns as he hooked the delicate straps of her bodice between his fingertips and drew the garment down her shoulders. Within seconds, she was bared from the waist up.

  Bending, he feathered a line of kisses over the skin he’d revealed, beginning with a particularly sensitive spot just behind her ear. Working his way down, he drove her half mad with his roving touches. Trembling and on edge, she was never quite sure where he would kiss her next.

  Her breath was coming in pants by the time he reached her breasts, the centers peaked and aching, practically begging for his attention. She shuddered when he took one into his mouth, gripping his arms as he opened his lips wider to suckle before flicking her with his tongue. He moved over her breasts, one then the other, kissing and laving her until his ministrations took on the guise of near torment.

  Exquisite torment, but torment all the same.

  With a groan, she dug her fingers into the fine wool of his coat, only then realizing that he was still fully dressed.

  Ineffectually, she plucked at the material. “Aren’t you going to take something off too?” she asked, not stopping to question her sudden bravado. “It hardly seems fair that I’m always the one disrobed, while you never take off a stitch.”

  He stopped, his head coming up to meet her gaze. And then he laughed. “You’re quite right, sweetheart. You are leagues ahead of me, while I’m woefully overdressed. Lie down and I’ll take care of the problem immediately.”

  But in spite of her weakened knees and the aching desire that throbbed inside her like a beating fist, she reached toward him instead. “Maybe I can help,” she said, her hands going to his neck cloth. “You did the same for me, after all. Why don’t I valet for you tonight?”

  He met her gaze, hot blue flashing deep in his eyes.

  Her hands fell still. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t,” she amended.

  Before she could pull away, he caught her palms and placed them back on his cravat. “No,” he told her in a thick rasp. “Undress me. Please.”

  “You don’t think I’m a wanton, do you?” she blurted out, unexpectedly worried he might think she was fast.

  He arched a brow, his smile serious and devastatingly seductive. “No. But even if you were, you’d be my wanton. When we are alone, Claire, you may do anything that brings you pleasure. Anything at all. I want there to be no barriers or reservations between us—most especially in bed.”

  A bone-deep shiver raced through her at his words.

  Anything, he’d said.

  She had no idea what that really meant but she supposed he would show her. Her body throbbed violently at the idea.

  Drawing a shivery breath, she reached up and tugged at the strip of linen tied around his throat, slowly easing it loose. When the knot was free, she unwound the length of cloth until it came away in her hand. Blindly, she tossed it after her own garments, hoping it landed where it was supposed to go.

  Next came his coat, then the short placket of shirt buttons at his throat. His waistcoat took more time, her fingers fumbling slightly against the long row of gold buttons that fastened down its silken length. Somehow, she worked them all open, parting the cloth to draw it off. But when it came time to remove his shirt, she hesitated.

  Obviously aware of her sudden reticence, Edward did it himself, peeling the fine linen over his head in a quick burst of energy. Lowering his bare arms to his sides, he stood quiet for her appraisal.

  Her eyes rounded at the sight of him, pulse thrumming faster as she drank in her first glimpse of his bare chest. And what a chest it was, her mouth pooling with moisture at his undeniable appeal.

  He was beautiful, all firm musculature and long sinewy planes. Dark hair grew in a rugged swath across his pectorals before thinning into a narrow line that trailed down his lean stomach. It disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches, inviting an exploration she wasn’t yet bold enough to attempt.

  Yet she had to touch him, gliding her palms over his shoulders and arms, then across his hard chest. His skin was toasty warm and clearly sensitive, his muscles rippling beneath her inquisitive touch. Threading her fingers into his chest hair, she indulged herself by investigating all the contrasting textures—soft and crisp, supple but firm. Inadvertently, she grazed one of his flat male nipples and heard him catch his breath on a sharp inhale. Curious, she stroked him again and watched his flesh pucker tightly.

  Does he like that? she wondered. Does it give him the same exquisite pleasure I feel when he touches me that way?

  Leaning forward, she put her mouth on his other nipple and gave a tentative lick. His arousal jerked against her belly, one of his palms coming up to cup the back of her head and draw her nearer. Closing her eyes, she swirled her tongue against him, using little flicks and circles. Then, letting instinct guide her, she gave him a light nip with her teeth.

  He jerked again and shuddered, groaning as he took hold of her arms and pulled her away. His eyes were dark and hungry, and glittering with unconcealed need. “I can see you’re going to be good at this.” He reached for the ties at her waist. “And I’m going to enjoy being the man with whom you learn to perfect your talent.”

  Before she could reply, he stripped off her petticoat and shift, then swept her naked into his arms. Carrying her a few short steps, he laid her against the cool cotton sheets, then began removing the rest of his clothes with quick, efficient movements.

  Blood beat in thick, hot strokes, as she watched him undress, her breath growing increasingly shallow with each successive inch of flesh he revealed.

  He was everything she’d dreamed of and more. His body bold and majestic, spectacular where he stood silhouetted in the dim light. She couldn’t help the pleasured gasp that came to her lips as she caught her first glimpse of him completely nude.

  Grecian art couldn’t begin to compare with the grandeur that was Edward. Narrow hips, long thighs heavily muscled from riding, tapering calves and elegant ankles and feet, he made her mouth water. And yet it was his ample erection that drew and held her gaze, a knot of excitement and trepidation lodging in her throat.

  Then he eased into the bed beside her, sliding close to take her i
n his arms. Her bare skin slid against his own like warm silk, as he crushed his mouth to hers with possessive demand. She met it and more, returning his kisses with a frantic, fiery ardour of her own.

  The burning need blazed higher, consuming her, emboldening her, leaving her aching and breathless. His hands were everywhere, driving her wild, each touch lifting her to new heights of pleasure and passion.

  She touched him as well, tentatively at first, beginning only with his arms and shoulders. He murmured words of approval and encouragement, and her confidence grew. Widening her range, she delved lower, her palms wandering wherever they would in a roaming path that brought her great delight.

  Edward clearly approved as well, deepening their kiss, as he claimed her mouth in a torrid mating that left her thoroughly intoxicated. Her hands continued their downward slide, gliding over the interesting dip at the base of his spine before continuing across his leanly muscled buttocks. He groaned at her daring foray, his kiss turning even more savage.

  His hands went to her breasts, caressing them until the tips were hardened to aching peaks. His mouth followed, closing over one nipple to draw upon her, while his fingers roved below.

  Trails of fire spread wherever he touched, her skin awash with overlapping waves of intensity and need. Over her stomach he roamed, across her hips and down her thighs, his every touch turning her molten and moist. Parting her legs, he slipped a finger inside, her wet flesh clinging eagerly to his gentle questing.

  She tossed her head and moaned, eyelids floating closed at the sweet sensations racking her body. Her senses spun as though she were caught in a gale, pleasure building in breathless beats, each intimate stroke better than the last.

  Her pulse leapt, inner flesh stretching almost to the point of pain as he added another finger and pressed deeper. In and out he went, his thumb finessing an ultra-sensitive bit of flesh that made her writhe.

  He suckled her breasts until they ached, each pull of his mouth mirroring the soft, rhythmic thrust of his fingers. Blood pounded between her temples, a red haze flickering behind her closed eyes.