The Courtesan Duchess

by Joanna Shupe

  “Simon, this will work. I know it.”

  He appeared unconvinced. “I’m sorry you didn’t trust me enough to come to me with this, Jules.”

  Her stomach tightened. Simon had been a good friend to her, and she never wished to hurt him. “I do trust you. But it’s more than what you and I can handle alone. Nick has made much of this mess, so he should be forced to clean it up—even unwillingly.”

  It was the dinner party forged in hell as far as Nick was concerned.

  From the moment he arrived, nothing was as it should be. Winchester was obviously angry with him, his friend’s eyes as hard as glass every time they fell on Nick. Yet Nick had no idea why. Moreover, Winchester had snarled at him all night long and, quite honestly, Nick was a bit tired of such hatred being thrown his way for no apparent reason.

  The vivacious and charming Mrs. Leighton from the opera had yet to make an appearance. Instead, Juliet was restrained, her jocularity forced, as if sensing the discord between himself and Winchester. She watched them both warily, struggling to keep the conversation light during dinner. More than once, he watched her admonish Winchester with a withering glance after something his friend said.

  Veronica was seated at Winchester’s side, and the two flirted shamelessly throughout the evening. Nick briefly wondered if the other woman’s presence had caused Juliet’s strange mood. But he recalled her saying that her relationship with Winchester didn’t preclude either of them from having additional partners. So what was going on?

  While the other guests were familiar, none would be called friends. The prominent banker, the owner of a large shipping fleet, and the wealthy lawyer in attendance all came from a more respectable class of Venetian society than the degenerates Nick usually associated with. At least the ladies present were more to his liking: a courtesan, an actress, a ballerina, and a widow. Ah, God love the women of shameless pleasure.

  Juliet’s fork clattered on her plate, surprising the group. “Simon, did you hear me? Really, I am getting a little tired of repeating myself this evening.”

  Nick watched Winchester drag his eyes up from Veronica’s décolletage to give Mrs. Leighton a bored look. “I apologize, my dear. You were saying?”

  “Never mind.” Juliet turned to Nick, seated on her right. “Your Grace, have you explored much of the area around Venice in your time here?”

  “A bit,” he murmured, fascinated by the candlelight dancing on the pink hue of her lips. He remembered kissing her this afternoon, and it was all he could do to not reach for her in the middle of dinner.

  “I’ve heard the island of Torcello is quite wonderful,” she said, sliding her bottom lip between her teeth and biting gently, as if she knew the direction of his thoughts.

  His shaft began to swell, and Nick forced himself to look away from her mouth lest he embarrass himself at the table. “It is. The cathedral contains some stunning mosaics. I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you there at your earliest convenience. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  “Perhaps,” she answered evasively.

  “My dear,” Winchester spoke up from down the table. “I promised to take you shopping, if you’ll recall.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Simon.” Juliet placed her knife and fork on her plate, signaling she was finished.

  A little while later, the men rejoined the ladies in the sitting room. From his position on the couch, Nick enjoyed a glass of grappa and watched as Winchester pulled Juliet off to the side, near the window, for a private conversation.

  Veronica slid next to him on the couch. “I believe there is trouble in paradiso,” she murmured, gesturing to the couple, now engaged in a rather heated, but quiet, exchange.

  Winchester appeared to be pleading with Juliet, who only shook her head. Nick saw her lips form the words, “It’s over, Simon,” and he held his breath. Could it be?

  Juliet turned to leave, and Winchester put a hand on her arm to restrain her. Juliet shot him a withering glare harsh enough to shrivel a man’s cock. It was a haughty, self-confident glower worthy of a duchess. Nick was impressed and damned glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of such a stare. Winchester immediately released her, and Juliet gracefully crossed to the far side of the room, where she struck up a conversation with some other guests.

  Winchester hurried to the couch. Ignoring Nick altogether, he held his hand out to Veronica. “Miss DiSano, would you care to come with me? It seems I am no longer needed as host tonight.”

  Without another word, the two of them left. Baffled, Nick wondered over both Winchester’s rudeness and the fact that Juliet was no longer attached to his longtime friend. Despite his assurances to the contrary, perhaps Winchester had resented Nick’s wooing of Mrs. Leighton. Had his advances driven Winchester and Juliet apart? Nick would find Winchester tomorrow and straighten it out.

  But for now . . . for now he wanted to spend time with the one woman he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for days. A hot, prickly feeling broke out on the back of his neck, and he raised his head to see Juliet striding toward him, her hips gently swaying and a secret smile on her beautiful face. The low cut of her sapphire-colored dress revealed the tops of her ample breasts, the soft flesh bouncing along with her steps. Lust raced through his belly straight to his shaft. Bloody hell, she was captivating, and he couldn’t wait to have her.

  He stood. “It appears you have lost your host this evening.”

  She sighed, looking none too distraught over the idea. “Poor Simon. It is hard for some men to accept the inevitable, wouldn’t you say, Your Grace?”

  Nick leaned down near her ear. She smelled delicious, like gardenias and sunshine. “I could say the same about some women, Mrs. Leighton.”

  He heard the catch in her breath and immense satisfaction roared through him. It wouldn’t be long until her legs would be wrapped around his hips as he drove inside her sweet warmth. He led her farther away from the group where they couldn’t be overheard. Near the window, he shielded her from the rest of the guests. “Shall we end the game between us tonight? See what pleasure can be found together? What can I offer to entice you? Not jewels, obviously. Is it money, then? Or perhaps a fucking the likes of which you’ve never experienced?”

  A flush crept up her neck, her delicate skin turning a pretty pink.

  “Ah, could that be it? How I love to see you blush, Juliet. I wonder if your nipples are the same shade. How will they taste when I pull them in my mouth and roll them on my tongue?” The pulse at the base of her neck beat hard and fast, clear evidence of her desire. He couldn’t stop tormenting them both. “Would you like to feel how hard I am, merely from standing so close to you? Hear how my cock aches at the idea of sinking into your slick, tight passage?”

  Her eyes glazed over and a breathy moan escaped her lips, and Nick smiled. “Come with me, back to my palazzo, tesorina. Let us burn together.”

  She gave a short nod and then cleared her throat. “As soon as the guests leave.” Before he could say anything else, she stepped around him and rejoined her party.

  Unbelievably, his cock grew even stiffer. He would need to stay here, facing the window, until he could safely turn around again.

  As her gondola approached the duke’s palazzo, Julia found herself a bit rattled. This evening, she would seduce her husband while posing as someone else. What if he discovered her lie? If so, her plan would fail, her future would become perilous at best, and Nick would likely toss her headfirst into the nearest canal. An image of Templeton came to mind, and she took a deep breath. Julia would never, ever become that man’s mistress. She’d rather starve.

  There was little choice but to carry out her scheme.

  A scheme more than five months in the making, during which she’d researched, planned, and listened. She’d thought of an answer for nearly every concern Aunt Theo had lodged at her.

  Theo’s first concern had been conception, because Nick might bring the subject up. Since Pearl said many courtesans could not bea
r children, the result of terminating too many unwanted pregnancies, Julia planned to tell Nick as much and hoped he wouldn’t question it. However, in case he didn’t believe her, or worried about disease, Julia’s reticule contained a few prepared French letters, each sheath carefully pricked at the end to create a small hole for his seed to pass through.

  Theo then brought up the issue of her maidenhead. How would Julia explain away the blood? Pearl believed there was a good chance, due to Julia’s age, that her maidenhead had already torn—but Julia couldn’t know for sure. Pearl suggested Julia use a wooden phallus on herself beforehand to ensure of its removal, but Julia hadn’t the nerve.

  As her boat pulled up to the dock of Nick’s palazzo, she sent up a silent prayer that, if she did bleed, Nick wouldn’t notice it. Too bad they couldn’t make love in the canal, where the blood would wash away.

  At least desire would not be an issue. There was little doubt Julia wanted him. The way he kissed her . . . the smell of him . . . even the way he walked across a room made her forget all the reasons she should hate him. Her husband was alluring, and he made her yearn for things she knew she’d never have.

  And what he’d said earlier in the evening . . . Lord above, it had been all she could do not to melt into a puddle on the ground.

  Stepping onto the dock, she saw a large man emerge from the shadows. “Evenin’, Mrs. Leighton. I’m Fitzpatrick, His Grace’s valet. The duke, he asked me t’ bring you inside.”

  His . . . valet? Julia swallowed her shock and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Pray lead on.”

  “Just Fitz,” he said before turning around.

  As they walked toward the palazzo, she studied Colton’s valet. Large and bulky, Fitz was definitely a man one would want to avoid in a back alley. Had that been a scar running down the length of his face? Her nerves, already on edge, were not calmed by Fitz’s presence. Why would the duke require such a large and forbidding manservant?

  Julia shook herself. A true Cyprian would be preparing to charm the duke, while silently counting the strands of pearls she planned to buy with his money—not musing about his valet. Mrs. Leighton needed to be dazzling, flirtatious, and witty. Focus, she admonished silently.

  Fitz opened the door and stepped aside to allow her into the palazzo. She crossed the threshold and saw Nick coming down the stairs. Julia was nearly struck dumb by his handsomeness. His ebony hair was wet and slicked back from his face, emphasizing the sleek lines of his cheekbones. He wore no waistcoat, cravat, or coat; instead, a fine white linen shirt covered his lean torso, a small patch of black chest hair peeking out at the top. His trousers and evening shoes were black, making him look impossibly tall and powerful.

  And the triumphant, intimate smile he gave her was full of wicked promise. Julia shivered as she handed her pelisse to Fitz.

  “My dear Mrs. Leighton,” Nick said, reaching the last step. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Your radiance steals the very breath from my lungs,” he murmured, his voice husky and deep in her ear. He took her hand. “Come with me.”

  Nick tucked her close to his side as they went up the stairs. Her knees wobbled slightly, and it was all Julia could do not to turn around and run for the door. But she’d come too far, had too much to lose, to back out now.

  They climbed another set of stairs in silence, finally reaching the top floor where Nick threw open a door to reveal his bedchamber. I can do this. And he will not find me out. She repeated it to herself again and again for courage as she strode inside.

  Across from a small table and two chairs sat his enormous bed. Very enormous bed. Her feet stumbled a bit and he caught her elbow, steadying her.

  “I thought you might like to have a drink first,” he said. “Do you care for almonds? They make a flavored liqueur not far from here that is quite delicious.”

  Julia nodded and took a seat. Nick poured a small glass of light brown liquid for each of them and then handed one to her. He sat opposite, his gaze never wavering from her face as he settled in the chair, his long legs now stretched out in front of him. “Well?”

  She took a sip, surprised at the sweet flavor. “It’s nice,” she said, tipping the glass for another swallow.

  Though his posture was relaxed, she could sense Nick’s anticipation in the clenching of his jaw, the straight set of his shoulders. He was a big jungle cat, patiently waiting to pounce on her. The thought was both terrifying and thrilling.

  Half-lidded, dark gray eyes studied her face. “Are you nervous?”

  Julia shook her head, though her heart was racing. “No,” she lied. “Merely curious.” She drained the rest of her glass, and warmth spread through her bones. The nerves began to dissipate, and the soft glow of the spirits gave her courage.

  “Well, then, we must see to satisfying your curiosity.” He held out his hand. She stood up and moved to stand in front of his chair, where she removed the glass from his hands and set it on the table.

  Before she could do anything else, he clasped her waist and tugged her down to sit across his lap. He wrapped one arm tightly around her middle, securing her in place, while his free hand slid up to bury in her hair. Their faces were close, so close she could feel his breath, now coming every bit as ragged as hers. His erection lay beneath her, hard and urgent despite the layers of clothes between them. The proof of his desire thrilled her. Encouraged her. She stared at him boldly, her skin tingling, and waited.

  His smoky gaze flicked to her lips. Unconsciously, the tip of her tongue emerged to moisten them and his grip tightened. “Witch,” he murmured, and leaned down to cover her mouth with his own. The instant his lips claimed hers, the desire simmering between them exploded into something wild. Then he deepened the kiss, turning her head slightly to adjust the angle, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the room spun. She dug her nails into Nick’s shoulders in an attempt to brace herself in the onslaught of sensation.

  He coaxed and stroked, his hot, wet tongue like velvet against hers, and she couldn’t focus on anything but his kiss. Nothing existed but this wickedly charming man and what he was doing with his mouth. She rubbed her breasts, now swollen with need, against the hard planes of his chest in a desperate attempt to ease the ache inside her.

  Nick’s hand glided over her knee, under her dress, along her stockings, until he reached her bare thigh. His fingers played there, on her naked skin, dancing and teasing, while his mouth kept up the assault on her senses. Her sex burned, and she knew he would find her hot and slick if he reached a bit higher. Her own tentative explorations of her body hadn’t felt anything like this. No, this was so much more, more than she’d ever thought possible—and still, it wasn’t enough.

  Her hips tilted toward his exploring fingers, searching, begging for him. Nick moved his lips to her throat, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin. “I had thought to make you beg,” he whispered by her ear as his hand crept north, “but God’s truth, I’ll be on my knees in another few minutes, promising anything if you’ll just allow me to touch you.”

  “Touch me, please,” she said, clutching him tighter.

  He reached the apex of her thighs, his fingers sliding through the wet folds to find the heat of her, and she gasped. His touch was gentle, placed exactly where she craved it most.

  “So wet for me,” he murmured. “Say my name. Say who has made you so warm and wet, Juliet.” The tip of his finger circled the tiny sensitive nub, stroking it and sending her arousal soaring. Clothing around her waist, Julia’s stocking-clad legs were splayed open on his lap, offering no resistance. She’d ceased caring how wanton she looked. “Say it, my dear,” he ordered.

  “Nick,” she sighed, then inhaled sharply as he slid one finger into her entrance. He kissed her then, hard and deep, his tongue finding hers. Julia could hardly think, hardly breathe as he teased her, his finger moving in and out of her body to drive her higher. She broke away from his mouth, her head falling back, panting, as the pleasure built.

  “M
y God, you’re tight,” he whispered against her throat. He added another finger, stretching her, preparing her. “I cannot wait a moment more.” Grasping her waist, he lifted her to straddle him, the heat of her directly over his erection. Julia grabbed his shoulders, steadied herself, too mindless to do anything except fight for breath as Nick reached between them to unbutton his trousers.

  Before she had time to think, his shaft sprang free and nudged her opening. He held the base with one hand and brought her hips down with the other, the pleasure mixing with pain as he worked his way in her body.

  He swore through clenched teeth, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. “So tight. So good. It’s so bloody good.”

  The deeper he pushed, the more Julia fought to stay relaxed. She knew if she tensed up, he would not be able to enter her easily. And the last thing she wanted was for him to realize this was her first time. Inhaling steadily, she ran her hands down his chest, feeling the sinewy muscles under his light shirt to distract herself from the increasing pain between her legs.

  Pearl had said to get it over with quickly, for the shaft to pierce the maidenhead as fast as possible. Then perhaps Nick wouldn’t notice its presence. So gripping his shoulders and taking a deep breath for courage, Julia dropped her hips down as hard as she could, seating herself fully on him. The pain snapped through her as he filled her completely, but she tried to mask it with a groan of what she hoped sounded like pleasure.

  Nick seemed not to notice. He groaned as well, his head dropping back on the chair as his fingers tightened on her hips. “Oh, hell, Juliet. What are you trying to do to me?”

  God, it had hurt. But it was done—and he hadn’t noticed. Julia felt a surge of triumph, a roar of feminine power at the success. Now the pain was receding, just as Pearl said it would, and a strange new sensation, one of delicious fullness, dawned. She flexed her hips, and lust rippled through her cleft as Nick’s cock slid out and then back inside her.