by Amy Jarecki
What was she supposed to do now? She’d kissed a duke, been angry with a duke, allowed a duke to carry her, seen a duke completely naked, tended a duke’s wounds—well, at least the last one was more believable. She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t fancy herself infatuated with him. For all that was holy, she should be groveling at his feet. How on earth could she have been so foolish, so taken in?
Her chest became a hollow void.
Keeping his back to her, His Grace placed a log on the fire.
She balled her fists and stiffened her spine. “If Your Grace would be so kind as to point me in the direction of the servants’ quarters, I shall make up a pallet for the night.”
He doused the torch, then stood and faced her. “I beg your pardon?”
Surely he’d heard her. She dipped into a deep curtsy, one expected when in the company of royalty. “Please, m’lord, where are the servants’ quarters?”
In two strides he crossed the floor and tugged her to her feet. “What the devil has come over you?”
She blinked in disbelief. “Of course, after meeting Sir Coll, I suspected you were more than a wounded Highland chieftain, but never in my wildest imaginings did I think you might possibly be a duke. For the love of God, you’re but steps removed from the throne.”
“Several more steps away, now the true king is in exile.” He snorted, unlike a duke but like the Geordie she knew. Then his gaze softened and he fingered a lock of her hair. “I rather enjoyed not being a duke when I was alone with you.”
Had she heard him correctly? Did he intend to keep up his charade indefinitely? “I am no man’s fool.” She stamped her foot, ready to blow steam from her nose. “How can you not face your birthright and pretend to be someone else?”
A tic twitched his jaw as if she’d delivered a slap. “Believe me, never for one minute have I forgotten my station. I’ve been more myself with you than I have been in years. To you I was Geordie—a name used only by my mother and my closest friends, a name used only by people I trust.”
“That may be all well and good, but you cannot run from who you are, just as I cannot.” She pushed back her tresses, making the lock abruptly fall from his fingertips. “I’m the duchess of nothing. I’m so lowborn, even commoners spit upon me and my kin.”
He reached for her hand. “To me you are—”
“No!” She snapped it away. “You’re like all the other men in Christendom. What do you plan to do when you tire of me? Beat me and leave me for dead like they did to my ma?”
“I beg your pardon? What has come over you? I would never harm you.” His hands dropped to his sides and hurt flashed through his eyes. “What the devil happened to your mother?”
Akira hid her face in her hands. This was it, the brutal truth that followed her everywhere. “’Twas awful. She didn’t leave the cottage for years—still doesn’t venture out much.”
“Tell me.” The tone in his voice was one of an all-commanding duke. She should have known.
Spreading her fingers, Akira was almost afraid of what she’d see. He stared at her with such intensity, she wanted to crumple and melt. But now they were baring their souls, she might as well tell him everything. The sooner she did, the sooner he’d point her toward the servants’ quarters. “After my stepfather left us, Ma worked as a barmaid at the alehouse. A drunkard broke her arm and took a knife to her face.”
“My God.”
“They brought her home on a stretcher.” Akira slid the heels of her hands to her temples and pressed to ease the throbbing in her head. “She lay abed for three months. Taught me how to make salve from her pallet. I was twelve.”
“Christ,” he swore. “And you have three sisters? How did you survive?”
“We begged some. Sold my salve, too. Then people started paying me to tend the sick.” Akira hung her head. “’Tis why the ten-shilling piece is so important. I made a vow that my sisters would never have to take to the streets begging again.”
“Good Lord.” He dragged a hand over his hair. “I never imagined…You’ve been responsible for your family since the age of twelve?”
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “The merchants in Dunkeld treat us like urchins.” Clenching her teeth, she willed herself not to cry. “We are urchins.”
“No.” He lowered his chin, giving her one of his dark stares. “That isn’t right.”
“But that’s how it is.” She stepped back. “And once people ken I have Gypsy blood, they treat me worse than thresh on the floor. They fear me, suspect me of stealing, though I’ve never stolen anything in my life—except a loaf of bread when we’d gone a whole day without anything to eat. I felt so badly, I swore I’d never again do anything the like.”
Geordie moved toward her. She shuffled backward until her spine pressed against the wall. But he didn’t stop. His tempting lips moved ever so close. Why did he have to look so delectable? His eyes had grown darker, a lock of chestnut hair slipped from his ribbon and dangled over one eye.
“It angers me that people would be so disrespectful of you. You’re honest and thoughtful, and not one of those mongrels deserves to kiss your feet.” He placed his hands on the wall, either side of her head, his gaze boring into her soul. “You should be loved and respected.”
He leaned so close, his breath tickled her cheek. “I want to look after you.”
Akira closed her eyes. His words played like a harp in her ears. Yes, she wanted to believe him—wanted to believe he would be hers for all time. All she needed to do was slip her hands around his waist and cling to him. Wasn’t it? So much had changed in the past few minutes, she couldn’t think straight. “But you’re a duke. You cannot look after the likes of me.”
He smoothed his fingers along her cheek and around to her neck. “I believe as a duke I have the right to say whom I do and do not look after.”
“But—”
“There are no buts, lass.” When he lowered his gaze to her lips, Akira’s heartbeat hammered an erratic rhythm. How could she argue when the spiciness of his scent, the hard male body pressed against hers, turned her entire body into a boneless heap of rapturous nerves?
A knock came at the door. “Your tray, Your Grace.”
In a moment of sanity, Akira slipped aside and wiped a hand over her lips—lips that craved to kiss him, to feel him kiss her like a man who desired her as much as she did him.
“Of all the bloody bad timing,” Geordie growled. “Leave it.”
Akira reached for the latch. “I’ll fetch it.”
Geordie’s hand swiftly caught hers. “I have more urgent matters to attend to first.”
She met his gaze, while awareness tingled across her skin. She’d been hungry only moments ago, but now she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing. Her mouth went completely dry, and all she could do was nod. That single hazel-eyed look spoke volumes about the depth of his desire. No words were necessary to express what passed between them. The passion was as jolting as a bolt of lightning.
Sweeping her into his braw arms, he carried her to the bed and rested her atop the most gloriously soft mattress—even softer than her bed at Glen Spean had been.
“Ah,” she sighed as the tension drained from her limbs.
“You like it?” Geordie asked, kneeling over her and trailing kisses along her neck.
“’Tis gloriously comfortable.” Drunk with exhaustion, she abandoned her fight. She could no sooner resist him than cease to breathe.
As his lips wove magic across her skin, his fingers coaxed her up. He unlaced her kirtle and then her stays. Pulling away the layers, he continued to ply her flesh with kisses while he kneaded her breasts through the thin linen. Heavier and heavier they grew, as desire surged to her center. She needed to see him bare again, yearned for his touch, yearned for all of him.
Fumbling with his doublet’s buttons, Akira managed to push the jacket from his shoulders. Geordie rocked back on his haunches, released his belt, and cast it aside. He unfastened the brooc
h at his shoulder, letting the folds of his kilt cascade around his knees.
“Are you bare beneath that linen shirt?” she asked wantonly.
A single eyebrow arched as Geordie’s eyes darkened—devilish and desirable beyond all measure. “Aye,” he rasped, “and I want you to take it off me now, lass.”
Such words made her hunger for something more. He could no more stop her from discovering what lay beneath the fabric than she could stop herself from doing so. A hot swirling pulse of awareness thrummed through her blood as she rose to her knees and slowly raised the linen up and over his head. Her entire body quivered. Gazing upon him warmed every inch of her flesh, made her wild with desire, made her want to lay with him, made her crave the rough pads of his fingertips upon her flesh.
Taking a stuttered breath, she drank him in. His sculpted chest, the rippled muscles in his abdomen that tapered to sturdy, masculine hips. Akira’s tongue swept across her top lip. Her breathing stopped when she stared at the dark curls surrounding his erect manhood. A flood of heat surged between her legs. If only she could reach out and wrap her fingers around that velvet-tipped column of flesh and guide it to the place on her body aching for him.
With a deep chuckle, he lifted her chin with his pointer finger. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll come undone.”
Holding her gaze, he fingered her shift’s bow and untied it. She remained motionless while he slid it from her shoulders, though her breath came in short bursts. Aware of what she was doing, Akira didn’t fear the consequences for the first time since she’d run away with him. Geordie pushed the cloth from her breasts and then past her hips.
A feral growl rumbled from his throat as his eyes raked down her body just as she’d done to him. “God help me, you are the bonniest woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”
The flickering candlelight made the world spin like a dream. With a low moan, Geordie cupped her breast and joined his mouth with hers. His hand worked magic, as if he knew exactly what she wanted as he teased her nipple. Akira kissed him back with all the passion thrumming through her blood. But she needed more—needed closeness, needed all of him joined with her. This time, she moved toward him, pressed her body against his, showing him how much she wanted him to make love to her.
With a deep chuckle, Geordie guided her down to the mattress. He kneeled over her, kissing her neck, trailing down to her breasts. Akira gasped when his tongue circled the tip of her nipple. The smoldering flame deep inside ignited as if fed by a gusty breeze. Akira threw back her head and moaned as he kneaded her and suckled her, plying her sensitive skin with his tongue.
“What are you doing to me?” she said, the words coming in a ragged, breathless whisper.
“’Tis only the start of the magic to come.” He raised his lids and met her gaze with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Akira shuddered and watched him, so virile, so masculine, so incredibly desirable—and he wanted to care for her. How on earth had this happened to her? Her? Akira Ayres. Her tongue slipped through her lips. “Show me how a man makes love to a woman.”
He grinned—this smile even more devilish than the last. “Och, lass, you’ve no idea the pleasure that waits, and I’ll not deny you.” From her breasts, his kisses continued downward. Gooseflesh rose across her skin when he swirled his tongue in her navel. Then he again glanced up at her, his white teeth glowing through the dim light.
With a rumbling growl, he swirled his fingers through the curls at her apex. “I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.”
“W-what…?” Her thighs quivered at his naughty wink. The memory of his finger teasing her to the brink of madness made her desire stir like wildfire.
“Spread your knees for me, lass.” He grazed his teeth over his bottom lip, looking like sin and temptation served at once. Inhaling deeply, he coaxed her legs wider with his shoulders.
Mercy, with one lap of his tongue the passion inside her grew almost to the point of bursting. A shrill gasp tore from her throat. Again he licked. Akira’s hips rocked and swayed. She tossed her head from side to side. He slid his finger to her opening and circled it—yet another action that sent her mind into a maelstrom of hot, driving need. His finger slid in and out while his tongue performed pure magic. With uncontrollable shuddering, her voice made high-pitched noises as she succumbed to his touch. Higher and higher her passion soared, when all at once her entire body went taut, hanging upon the precipice of pure ecstasy. A cry caught in the back of her throat. With her next gasp, the entire world shattered into pulsing bursts of euphoria.
When finally she regained her senses, Akira reached down and urged him atop her. “Why is it you turn me into such a wanton woman?”
He nuzzled into her hair, his thick member pressing between her legs. “You do the same to me, mo leannan.”
She moved her hips, his manhood sliding between her wet thighs, rekindling the hot craving at her very core. “How can I bring you pleasure?”
* * *
When Akira uttered the words, a spike of desire hit Geordie so hard, his ballocks squeezed taut, almost making him lose his seed. Needing to slow his fervor, he rolled beside her and gazed into her eyes. “Are you certain?”
She nodded, her gaze drifting to his manhood. “More certain than I’ve been in a long time.”
He ran his finger around her nipple, aching to be inside her. “I want it to be good for you.”
She kissed him, her lithe fingers reaching down. “It will be. I ken it.”
Geordie sucked in a ragged breath when her fingers lightly brushed the tip of his cock.
She gasped and slid her hand around him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nay,” he managed to utter. Dear God, how could he think with Akira milking his cock? With a feral growl, he rolled atop her, kneeling between her legs. He slid his member up the crux of her legs, his thighs trembling when hot moisture spilled over him.
Her hips arched up and caught the tip of his cock at her entrance. Geordie held his breath. Wet woman brimmed around him. God, he could come right now, but he wanted to make this the most memorable night of her life. Show her exactly what she’d been missing. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
She nodded, her hips continuing their seductive, swirling rhythm. Christ, he was supposed to be the one seducing Akira, but without a lick of schooling she’d proven to be an expert. Slowly, he pushed inside.
She sucked in a gasp.
Geordie froze. “Am I hurting you?” His hips rocked back. “If you want to stop…”
Her fingers clamped into his bum. “No.” With a firm tug, she urged him deeper. God, he adored this woman. Ever so slowly, he slid into the length of her, and when he reached a wall he gazed into her sultry eyes. Even in the dim light the dark blue of her eyes bewitched him.
Geordie blinked. “Are you all right?”
She rocked her hips beneath him. “Oh yes.”
With her words, Geordie’s ballocks clamped so taut, he had to suck in deep breaths to keep from spilling before he began to thrust. Casting all gentleness aside, he gave in to the frenzy of passion that claimed his mind. Heaven and earth, with Akira’s deft fingers kneading his backside, he lost all control. Her breath was coming faster. Her wild scent ensnared him. Stars flashed across his vision.
Faster and faster he thrust. Akira cried out, clinging to him for dear life. And now she’d reached her peak, he was free to drive hard and fast. Out of control, his breathing sped, his heart hammered, and all at once the surge of rapture flooded through his blood. His body quivered with strain. Crying “Akira!” he swelled within her. With one last deep thrust, he crashed into the wave of glorious release.
He held himself over her, his head dropping forward as he fought to catch his breath. “Lord have mercy,” he growled, while his heart began to steady.
Pushing up on his elbows, he raised himself high enough to regard the temptress’s face beneath the shadow of the canopy. Her lips swollen and slightly parted, her heavy-lidded gaze, black ha
ir sprawling in a mass of tangles, framing her beauty. God save him, she defined rapture. Akira bewitched him mind and soul, and he would fight heaven and hell to make her his.
With a satiated moan, he trailed kisses down her neck. “Was it good for you, lass?”
She moved her hips beneath him, stirring the passion again. “Astonishingly good—so good, there are no words.”
“You are the world to me.” Breathing deeply to catch his breath, he rolled to his back and pulled Akira atop him. “You ken I adore you.”
She rested her head on his chest. “And I you.”
He ran his fingers through her hair and cherished the silkiness of it. The woman in his arms made his chest swell with pride—made him want to be a better man. In Akira’s arms he was a man, not a duke, nothing but a man who adored a woman to the depths of his soul. He could lay there all night with his rose entwined with his limbs. And he fully intended to lose himself in her wiles until the sun rose on the morrow.
Chapter Twenty
Geordie opened his eyes when a servant entered and began to stir the fire.
Morning had arrived far too soon. If only he could pretend to be invisible and make love to Akira all day.
Curled into his arm, the lass looked up with a smile, her sleepy blue eyes as bonny as ever. Her mussed hair, wild and wanton, made him want to take her that very moment. He gave her a reassuring peck on the temple before she retreated beneath the coverlet.
“Good morrow,” he said to the chambermaid, sitting up.
The servant dropped her stick of wood and whipped around. “G-good morrow, m’lord.”
Geordie cleared his throat, toying with Akira’s hair beneath the bedclothes. “Tell my cousin I will attend him within the hour.”
“Is that Sir Malcolm, m’lord?”
“Aye.” The guard must have done his job, keeping mum about Geordie’s identity. “And please bring in the cheese and fruit on your way out.”
