Duke Darcy's Castle

by Syrie James

  “What happened?”

  “He couldn’t afford to marry on a midshipman’s pay, and his brother refused to raise his allowance. So Lance invested what little money he had in what turned out to be a risky venture. He lost every penny. When Beatrice found out, she broke off their engagement and refused to speak to him again. She said she couldn’t marry a man who couldn’t manage his money.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible.”

  “He has suffered so much. First, in losing his parents at such a young age. Then he lost the woman he adored. Now he has lost his only brother. I have often wondered if, in his mind, love has become so entangled with loss that he is afraid to commit his heart.”

  “If that’s true, it’s a great shame.”

  The duchess turned her pale blue gaze on Kathryn. “I hope you will not subject yourself to the same fate, Miss Atherton.”

  “Me? What do you mean?”

  “Forgive me for speaking candidly. At my age, I feel it my duty to share what I have seen and learned with those younger than myself. And what I think, Miss Atherton, is that you have the same fear of commitment as my grandson.”

  “I’m not afraid of commitment,” Kathryn bristled.

  “Perhaps not, my dear, when it comes to your career. And may I say, I applaud all that you have achieved in that corner of your life. Yet I get the feeling that you are afraid of something quite different: that if you give your heart to a man, you might lose yourself.”

  The observation hit so close to home Kathryn found herself at first unable to reply. Finally, she said, “I suppose that is true, Your Grace. It is yet another reason why I am determined to never marry.”

  “Never say never,” the dowager duchess replied. “Where there is a will, there is a way.” In a thoughtful tone, she added, “I cannot help but hope that in this modern world of ours, it will one day be possible to be both a professional woman and a wife.”

  The next afternoon, Kathryn found herself and Lance standing on the dock at St. Gabriel’s Mount’s harbor, saying goodbye to her sisters and Lexie’s son, Tommy.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Lance said, “and for all your help during your sister’s illness and with the fête.”

  “Thank you for reaching out to us,” Lexie replied. “Our sister means the world to us.”

  “So I noticed,” he returned with a smile.

  “I hope we will not be strangers going forward, Lord Darcy,” Lexie added. “Thomas and I would love to have you visit us at Polperran House.”

  “Charles and I would be delighted to welcome you to our home as well,” Maddie told him. “Anytime.”

  “Kind invitations, thank you.” Lance extended a hand to little Tommy. “It was a pleasure to meet you, young man.”

  “And you as well, Your Grace,” Tommy replied, returning the handshake with all the grace of a well-trained future earl.

  Tears started in Kathryn’s eyes as she gave Tommy an affectionate squeeze, and then hugged both of her sisters in turn, admitting how much she was going to miss them.

  “Marry him,” Maddie whispered in Kathryn’s ear.

  “Follow your heart, not your head,” Lexie hissed in a low tone.

  A tearful laugh bubbled up from Kathryn’s throat as her family climbed into the small boat and it sailed off toward the mainland.

  Follow your heart, not your head. It was the opposite of the advice one usually gave.

  And it wouldn’t be easy advice to follow. Since Kathryn didn’t have a clue what her heart really wanted anymore.

  Lance leaned on the edge of the wall on the upper terrace, gazing out at the expanse of dark blue sea. The light of a full moon danced on the water like a spray of sparkling diamonds. Waves crashed in a lulling ebb and flow against the beach and rocky cliffs below.

  He had always thought these to be delightful sights and soothing sounds. Tonight, they brought him no joy.

  Nervous energy infused his body. It had been eleven days since he and Kathryn had spent any quality time alone together. It had felt like the longest eleven days of his life. Since the moment he’d walked into that parlor intending to bare his soul, she’d either been deathly ill or sequestered with her sisters or surrounded by crowds of people.

  Yesterday, she’d worked so tirelessly at the fête. No matter where he’d been or what he’d been doing, he’d found himself seeking a glimpse of her. Feasting on the vision of her slender form in her white summer gown, her blond hair curling about her face beneath her flowered bonnet. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her as she’d whisked from one task to another, so sweet and charming with the children, managing everything with such capable efficiency.

  It was as if she’d been born to the task. Born to be a duchess. His duchess.

  He craved a private moment with her. To bring up the subject that was foremost on his mind. But she’d spent all afternoon in her parlor making final touches to her drawings. They had dined with his grandmother, after which, to his disappointment, Kathryn had pronounced herself tired and retreated up to her room.

  He’d agreed to meet with her in the morning for one final discussion about the work she’d been hired to do. For all he knew, she might be planning to return to London tomorrow. Which meant this might be her last night at the Mount.

  The idea of her leaving, of never seeing her again, pierced his chest with a pain so searing he almost choked.

  He should have found a way to get her alone earlier that day. Somewhere, anywhere—he should have thrown caution to the wind and gotten down on one knee and asked for her hand. Taken the risk.

  Only one day left. He was running out of time.

  Kathryn moved to her bedroom window, intending to shut the drapes, when she caught sight of a lone figure on the terrace below.

  Lance.

  Although she couldn’t see his expression from this distance, the sight of him standing there all by himself, leaning against that wall, his head hung low, gave her pause. He looked so . . . sad. And frustrated. And lonely.

  The same way that she was feeling.

  He straightened suddenly, then headed across the flagstones on his way back to the castle. It was late, almost eleven o’clock. He was probably heading for his rooms to turn in for the night.

  Kathryn had retreated upstairs with the same intention. But seeing him like that, so vexed and dejected, made her heart hurt. Was it possible that he’d been thinking about her? Missing being with her, just as she missed being with him?

  She closed the drapes and wandered idly in her chamber, lost in thought.

  Follow your heart, not your head, Lexie had said.

  Kathryn’s head was telling her to be smart. Be sane and pragmatic. She had a plan for herself. She needed to go back to London. Back to her job.

  Back to your lonely little life.

  Where had that thought come from?

  Kathryn had never considered herself lonely before. Or thought of her life as little. Her work was not just her pride; it gave her deep, primal joy. It fulfilled the creative yearnings that danced in her soul. She had been alone for years, but she’d never been lonely. Had she?

  Maybe she hadn’t realized she’d been lonely . . . until she met Lance.

  And fell in love with him.

  The truth hurtled into Kathryn’s mind with the strength of a thunderbolt, piercing through the armor she’d so carefully built around herself.

  I do love him. She couldn’t help but gasp as the newfound knowledge rang within her with the clarity of a bell. She had been falling in love with Lance ever since the first day she arrived at St. Gabriel’s Mount.

  He was an extraordinary man. He was the kind of man who would nurse a sick woman for two days and nights, and bring her potted orchids because she disliked cut flowers. The kind of man who cared about his tenants and the needs of his community, who treated children to festivals and ran three-legged races with a partner-less boy.

  He was the kind of man who had earned her deepest admiration
and respect.

  And her love.

  How did Lance feel about her? He certainly hadn’t loved her when he’d proposed. But a lot had happened since then. They had grown closer every day as they’d opened up to each other and become more . . . involved. After they’d left the secret room, he had started to say something, but she had cut him off. Not ready to hear it.

  He is clearly besotted with you. It’s all over his face every time he looks at you. It’s like you hung the moon.

  Were her sisters right? Was Lance in love with her as well? He had never said the words, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

  Marry him, Maddie had insisted. Could she marry the Duke of Darcy?

  For a moment, Kathryn indulged the notion. Imagined herself as his wife. Living out the rest of her days here at St. Gabriel’s Mount. Raising a family together. Their children would be as good-looking, vivacious, and intelligent as their father—forces to be reckoned with. Lance would make a wonderful companion. And an incredible lover.

  It was a tempting scenario. More than tempting. Part of her craved it, more deeply than she could have ever anticipated.

  A rush of melancholy quickly followed. There was still no answer to the conundrum that stood between them. Kathryn had chosen her life with her eyes wide open. She still wanted that life.

  But, she thought. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible to follow both one’s head and one’s heart at the same time. At least for one night.

  She’d been fighting for weeks to retain a professional distance from the duke, a battle she had lost several times. But other than the presentation she intended to give in the morning, she had finished her job here. Which meant that, technically, she wasn’t his employee anymore.

  She’d be leaving soon. Tomorrow, perhaps. But that didn’t mean she had to leave without experiencing one last night of pleasure with the man she loved. Discovering the rapture that she knew would follow if she gave in to the desperate longing for him that was invading every pore of her body.

  One last taste of him, that’s all she could allow herself. One last memory to carry with her forever.

  Was it fair to him, though? If Lance truly loved her, was it wrong to offer herself to him on such terms?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lance lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  The moon was so beautiful he’d left the curtains open. Now, he wondered if that had been a mistake. The bright light beaming in through the mullioned windows cast an intriguing pattern on the carpets. But it was keeping him awake.

  Not that he would have been able to sleep tonight, anyway.

  His thoughts were too full of Kathryn for any hope of slumber. The scintillating conversations they had shared over the past few weeks played over and over in his mind. He kept seeing the spark in her eyes that had enlivened every reveal of whatever drawing she’d been working on, recalling the laughter they had shared over their many games of cards. Lance had never enjoyed the company of a woman more, or so completely.

  Another image invaded his mind: the last time he’d held her in his arms. In his brother’s secret room. The way she had called out in ecstasy as he’d brought her to climax. The memory tightened his gut and made him grow hard. Oh, how he wanted her. Now, this instant. If only . . .

  A light rap sounded at his bedroom door. Lance frowned in annoyance. Who could it be at this hour? One of the servants, no doubt. What problem required his attention now?

  He got out of bed. “A moment,” he barked, slipping into his dressing gown and tightening the belt around his waist. He answered the door, expecting Hammett or Woodston. “Yes?”

  To his shock, Kathryn stood before him. She wore a sleeveless white nightgown. And nothing else. Her long golden locks curled softly around her shoulders. She didn’t say a word, just stood there, gazing at him.

  For a moment, Lance was too dumbfounded to move or speak. His cock, however, had other ideas. Already hard just from thinking about her, it leapt to even more prominent life at the sight of her.

  Her nightgown clung to her upper body, accentuating the curves of her breasts, which rose and fell erratically with her every breath. The points of her nipples were visible through the thin fabric. Her lips were parted slightly and her eyes, as they bore into his, held a tentative yet heated look. A look that silently telegraphed her uncertainty, just as it told him exactly what she was doing here. And what she wanted.

  The same thing that he wanted. And had been wanting for weeks.

  Lance took hold of her wrist and pulled her into the room, then slammed the door behind them.

  In another swift movement, he backed her up against the door, took her in his arms, and kissed her. Instantly, she was kissing him back. The feel of her mouth on his sent a volley of fire racing through his veins.

  He kissed her hard, his tongue parting the seam of her lips, invading and tangling with her own tongue. She tasted like warm, sweet heaven. Like silk and a prayer.

  He kissed her and kissed her, venting the depth of the desire that had been consuming him for weeks. She met him kiss for kiss, wordlessly communicating a similar need and desire. A moan escaped her throat. He’d never heard a more arousing sound. An answering groan issued from somewhere deep within him.

  Her arms wrapped up around his neck, pulling him even closer until his body was so tight against hers he could feel every inhalation she took, feel the heat of her through the thin layer of clothing that separated them.

  Breaking the kiss, he whispered huskily against her mouth, “Are you really here? Or is this a dream?”

  “I’m really here,” she replied, her breath fanning his lips, her eyes lifting, a bit shyly now, to meet his. “I wasn’t sure if I should . . . wasn’t sure if you’d want to . . .”

  “Oh, I want to,” Lance assured her. His cock was trapped between them, pressing against her belly. He moved slightly, reminding her of its presence. “Feel how much I want to.” Cradling her face in one hand, he added, “For weeks, I have longed for this. For you. I have thought of nothing but you.”

  “It’s been the same for me.” She paused, then whispered: “Do you have . . . protection?”

  A practical question. It made him smile. He admired her for asking. And being so up front about it. “I do.”

  “Good.” Her face, bathed in a swash of moonlight, was angelic in its beauty.

  He kissed her again, long and hard and deep, until they were both panting for breath. Running one hand up and down the side of her body, he smoothed his fingers over the tantalizing curve of one breast, the most delectable thing he had ever felt. Grabbing hold of her nightgown with both hands, he huskily commanded, “Take this off.”

  She complied, helping him raise the garment over her head and letting it drop to the floor, until she stood in perfect nudity before him.

  He took a sharp, uneven breath, drinking her in. Her skin was almost luminescent in the moonlight’s glow. Her breasts were round and succulent, begging for his touch. The golden thatch at the apex of her shapely thighs was like a beacon, calling him home.

  His blood ran hot and wild. “You are so beautiful,” he managed. His voice was so low and deep it didn’t sound like his own.

  Lance made short work of his robe and smalls, kicking them aside. Then he took her in his arms again, one hand cupping her naked breast, the other holding him against her as his mouth claimed hers.

  “You undo me, Kathryn,” he whispered in between kisses. “I want you so much.”

  “I want you, too,” she echoed, her breath coming in unsteady gasps. “But, Lance . . . if we do this—”

  “Hush,” Lance commanded, gazing down into her eyes. “There is no if, Kathryn. Not anymore.” With that, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  Kathryn had imagined this so many times it was hard to believe it was actually happening. That she and Lance were naked, in his bed, and his hands and mouth were everywhere.

>   He was kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She was kissing him back with equal abandon. Their bodies were wrapped in an embrace so tight it was impossible to know where she began and he ended. She clung to him, flesh against flesh, reveling in the taste and feel of him.

  She loved the smooth slope of his back, the slight indentation at his waist, the way the curve of his buttocks felt under her palm.

  She loved running her hands along the angles of his face and jaw, loved his stubble of beard. She loved the soft pliancy of his lips and the way they parted beneath her fingertips. She loved the way he grabbed her hand and captured each finger in his mouth, sucking on one after the other, as if they were lollipops.

  She loved threading her fingers through his short dark hair. She loved how it felt when his fingers tangled through her own hair as he brought her head closer for yet another kiss.

  He was making love to her breast now. He lapped at one nipple, his tongue circling the areola as if it were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, a sensation that sent titillating electric shocks shooting through her entire body.

  Moving to her other breast, he drew the entire crest into his mouth and suckled it. Kathryn gasped. Deep in her feminine core, she grew hot and wet with need.

  “Lance . . .” she murmured. In the back of her mind, she was hazily aware that there was something she was supposed to say. Something she had to make him understand. But she couldn’t remember what it was. Her mind was reeling, lost in the pleasure of what he was doing to her and how it felt.

  He left her breasts and imprinted her abdomen with soft, damp kisses as he made his way lower still. Kathryn took a shaky breath. She had an idea of what might be coming next. She had heard about it, had never been quite certain she believed it.

  Sure enough, he was parting her legs with his hands as he settled his body into the space between them, his mouth pausing directly at the juncture of her thighs.

  “Lance . . . ?” she breathed again, a question this time.