by Joanna Shupe
“He knows, Your Grace. That is the way with those we love, is it not? We want to protect them from harm—whether they need us to or not.” Clear and steady, her eyes were full of meaning, and Nick realized they were no longer discussing Fitz.
“Nevertheless, if you wouldn’t mind, have one of the footmen fetch me if he awakens today.”
Hours later, after a long ride and a bath, Nick settled in the study. Many things remained to be done before he departed, such as letters to his solicitor and estate manager, as well as finishing his will.
And then there was Olivia. She deserved a written explanation as to why he hadn’t stayed, lest she feel abandoned when she grew older. The one thing he never wanted his daughter to believe was that he didn’t love her—because he did. Fiercely. The few hours he spent with her each night would be the best memories of his life.
Along with Venice, he thought ruefully.
He hadn’t the faintest idea how to say farewell to his wife. Sentimentality was a skill Nick did not possess, and baring his feelings would only make them both more miserable. Nevertheless, he had to say something and the devil only knew what it would be.
By the time he’d finished the instructions to both the solicitor and estate manager, the gray afternoon had long darkened into night. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching a bit to ease the pain in his wounded shoulder, and continued his writing.
A knock sounded. Likely Thorton again, ready to badger him about food. “Enter,” he shouted, not even bothering to look up.
He heard the heavy wood swing open. “Thorton, I asked not to be disturbed. What is so pressing this time?”
The faint scent of gardenias suddenly stole through him, invading his senses, and Nick’s head snapped up.
Julia.
His wife stood there, so beautiful and untouchable that he wanted to howl at the unfairness of it. She wore a dressing gown, her feet bare, and even that small hint of bare skin had his heart hammering. Damn, but the woman tempted him at every turn.
Her face gave nothing away as she closed the door behind her. When the click of the lock echoed throughout the room, he shot to his feet, almost knocking over the chair. “Is something amiss?” he heard himself ask, his voice a mere croak as she sauntered forward.
Instead of answering, she lifted her arms and removed a pin from her hair. Six pins later and a curtain of blond curls swirled down her back. He froze, transfixed, unable to speak. Part of him couldn’t wait to see what she would do next. Another part of him wanted to flee, posthaste.
She ambled toward him, hips swaying and the tops of her breasts peeking out from the lapels of the dressing gown.... He could scarcely believe this was not a dream. When he met her sultry blue gaze—one he hadn’t seen since Venice—he clutched the edge of the desk to keep from pouncing on her.
“What are you about, Julia?”
Her hands reached for the sash at her waist, slowly untied it. “Showing you what you’re missing when you leave. Would you care to see?” She parted the layer of thin silk and began slipping it down over her shoulders. His mouth went dry.
The creamy skin of her neck and shoulders appeared, followed by the graceful ridges of her collarbones. Then the dressing gown fluttered to the floor, and Nick’s jaw fell. Jesus Christ . . . It was the boned red chemise from Venice.
Comprised of satin and lace, the garment did little to cover the beauty she’d been born with. The black lace bodice hugged her tightly, her breasts held up and out in a deliciously tempting offering. Her lower body . . . was on full, glorious display. The transparent red fabric stopped just above her mons in the front and dipped down to brush her buttocks in the back. His body responded instantly, hardening, until his stiff cock pushed painfully against the inside of his trousers.
She glided toward him, and he couldn’t make his feet work—or his arms, for that matter. He couldn’t do anything but watch, helpless to stop whatever she planned. “Julia,” he breathed. At least he still had control over his voice.
His wife shook her head, her lips curved into a secret smile. “Not tonight, my darling. Tonight, you may call me Juliet.”
She’d never forget the look on her husband’s face. The hesitation, the hope . . . and the bone-melting lust. His eyes glittered hot as they raked over her, and he appeared a hairbreadth away from leaping on her. Any nerves completely disintegrated, replaced with a surge of feminine power she’d not experienced since Mrs. Leighton packed up her powders and flimsy petticoats.
“Why?” he wheezed.
She trailed a finger over the tops of her breasts. “You profess to know what sort of man I need. But never once have you asked me what sort of man I want.” Once they were an arm’s length apart, she said, “I do not want a husband who asks permission before coming to my bed, groping me in the dark like an untried schoolboy. No, I want a man. A wicked man who enjoys my wickedness as well.”
Leaning in, she placed her hands on his chest, rose up on her toes, and whispered in his ear, “Because I quite enjoyed being wicked with you, Nicholas.” Her breasts grazed his hard chest, and she was satisfied to hear him groan.
His breath sharp and fast, he held himself utterly rigid. He was trying so hard to resist her, the poor man. A very good thing she had not yet used up all her tricks.
Her hand slid down his stomach until she reached the thick ridge of erection in his trousers. Tracing the outline with her fingertips, she watched as his lids fluttered closed, black lashes fanning his cheeks.
“Shall I tell you of all the wicked things I’d like to do with my hands?” she murmured, then moved closer until their lips almost touched. “With my mouth?”
That did it. With his good arm, he crushed her against him, his mouth crashing down to devour hers. The kiss was hard. Unrelenting. Desperate. There was no air to be had and their teeth clicked together, tongues stroking. It was everything she remembered from Venice and more.
His lips slanted over hers again and again, and she replied in kind, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him back feverishly. Then her hands began touching him everywhere, relearning the taut planes of his shoulders and chest. She tried to get closer, nearly writhing in an effort to ease the insane craving deep inside her.
He moved to kiss her throat and murmured, “Let me take you to bed.”
Julia shook her head. “No. Right here.” She scooted her bottom up onto his desk. Perched on the edge, her bare legs dangled over the side. “I want you to take me right here.”
“We shouldn’t—”
She clasped his crumpled cravat and pulled him in close. He stepped between her knees, the heat of him pressed directly against her bare cleft. She gasped at the rough sensation, yet still needed more. “Nick, please.”
His hand moved between them, and he found her entrance, fingers sliding easily through the slickness gathered there. He teased her, stroking and caressing, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
“Christ, woman,” he panted. “You have the power to make me daft. If I don’t get inside you—”
Her fingers flew to the fall of his trousers, unfastening the buttons as quickly as she could manage. A few tore in her haste and dropped to the carpet. “Now, Nick. I need you now.”
When his shaft sprang free, he wasted no time before lining up and driving deep. They both moaned. His hardness stretched her, filled her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him in place. He withdrew with an agonizing slowness and then drove forward once more, burying himself inside her.
“I’ve been dreaming about this every night since Venice,” he said before thrusting with enough force to drive her back on the desk. He slid his good hand under her buttocks to hold her in place. “Embarrassing, but I’m afraid I won’t last.”
Julia couldn’t respond for the unbelievable intensity of it. He fit her perfectly, snug into the cradle of her hips while he drove them higher. She loved that he was so wild for her, both of them nearly mad with lust.
He kissed her again, panting into her mouth as he thrust, and then slid her bottom lip between his teeth. Bit down. The exquisite pain and pleasure raced down her spine, through her groin, straight to her channel, which clenched around his penis in sheer bliss.
“Oh, hell,” Nick breathed. He began slamming into her, his head thrown back, their bodies meeting in a frenzied rhythm.
She felt it building, the sensuous ribbons of exhilaration pulling her limbs taut. Her hands clutched at him and her nails sank into the muscles of his forearms. “Yes, faster. Oh God, Nick.” His fingers located the bundle of nerves between her legs, which he expertly rolled. Higher and higher she climbed . . . until her body exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. Light sparkled behind her lids and a long moan tore from her throat, the orgasm stealing through every bit of her, turning her body inside out with the force of her pleasure. She shook and trembled, only vaguely aware that Nick began shuddering as well, his hips stuttering, muscles clenched in ecstasy.
Limp and spent, she clung to him and sucked in air. There were no words to describe how wonderful that had been. Nick didn’t speak either, merely leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. They stayed there a long moment, his shaft still buried in her.
When he caught his breath, he withdrew, awkwardly tucking himself back in his trousers with one hand while avoiding her eyes. “My apologies,” he mumbled.
She grabbed his arm. “Do not apologize to me. We both wanted this, Nick.”
“No, you don’t understand. This is . . .”
Julia took a deep breath for courage. “I love you.” His surprised gaze flew to hers, so she repeated it. “I love you. I fell in love with you in Venice and I don’t want anyone else. I certainly don’t want a husband who comes to me only in the darkness, touching me under the covers. I want a husband who will ravage me on the desk in his study.”
His brow furrowed. “You love me?”
“I love you,” she declared again with a nod. “And if you leave me, I’ll follow you, Nicholas. I swear it. If you do not want to live in England, Olivia and I will come with you wherever you want to go.”
He blew out a long breath. “You do not know what you’re saying—”
“Look at me.” When his stormy gray gaze met hers, she continued. “You will never be free of me, husband, just as I will never be free of you. I chased you down once, and I’m prepared to do it again. I know exactly what I want, and he’s standing right in front of me.”
“I’m . . .” His eyes slid away as he trailed off.
“You are what?”
He cleared his throat. “I do not know if I can be what you need.”
“You are exactly what I need.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Do you love me?”
He nodded. “I love you. God, I think I fell in love with you the minute I met you. I am miserable without you.”
She grinned. “Say it again, husband.”
Nick leaned forward, his mouth a whisper from hers. “I love you, wife. But what happens if you are wrong? What if I make you miserable?”
“No doubt you will make me miserable some days, just as I will do the same to you. There will be ups and downs in our marriage. But you cannot run any longer, Nick. Stay with me and let’s start the life we both want. The life we both deserve.”
He seemed to grapple with that, trying to understand, and a hint of hope appeared in his expression. “No under the covers in the dark?”
“Absolutely not. If you try it, I’ll box your ears.” Her hand came up to caress his cheek. “I fell in love with the Depraved Duke in Venice, after all. You cannot go back now.”
Dark clouds lifted from his eyes, and a sly grin slowly spread over his face. That smile warmed her in all the very best places. “Well, if you can be Mrs. Leighton every now and then, I suppose it’s only fair if I am the Depraved Duke in exchange.”
“Indeed, it is only fair,” she said with mock seriousness.
“If you truly want me, tesorina, I’m yours. I’m uncertain if I can be a good husband and father, but I will die trying because to be without you would kill me.” He gave her a kiss then, long and deep.
“How many more outfits of this sort does Mrs. Leighton own?” he asked when they broke apart. His hand skimmed across the lace covering her breast, and she shivered.
“A few. Why?”
“Because this wicked husband has the urge to rip it off and ravage you once more—this time on the floor of his study.”
Chapter Eighteen
’Tis a rare—and lucky—woman who experiences the gift of true love.
—Miss Pearl Kelly to the Duchess of Colton
One month later
Nick gently bounced Olivia on his lap, his heart turning over in his chest as she smiled up at him. His daughter had the ability to make him feel like the most powerful man on earth. She readily gave him her unconditional love and trust, and he vowed never to squander that gift.
And then there was his wife, who had her own way of making him feel quite powerful. He’d been unsure at first of her insistence to want him exactly as he was, flaws and all. It seemed much too good to be true. But she’d proven in a hundred ways over the past month how perfectly suited they were. In fact, there were a few nights when her depravity had outmatched even his own. He made a mental note to send a generous token of gratitude to Pearl Kelly.
They had decided to live at Seaton Hall. His wife had taken it upon herself to redecorate, and workmen were ever present on the estate. Most of the Seaton family portraits had been removed and stored in the attic. While Nick now understood the reason for his mother’s resentment, he could do without the daily reminders of his family.
Except for Julia and Olivia, of course. “Livvie, your papa promises to spoil you. No matter what your mama says, bellissima.”
His daughter smiled as if she understood every word. And if she was half as smart as her mother, she likely did.
“Are you spoiling her again, Nicholas?”
He turned and caught sight of his wife striding into the room. So beautiful and strong willed, and she belonged to him. Loved him, even. Some days, he still couldn’t believe it.
“Shhhh.” He leaned down and whispered to his daughter, “Do not tell your mother.”
Julia laughed, long and loud, her joy filling the room, as it did everywhere she went. She reached for Olivia. “I’ll take her. You have a visitor.”
“A visitor? Who?”
“You shall find out soon enough. Run along, Nick.” Julia lifted their daughter, giving him no choice but to stand up.
He left, but not before giving his wife a lusty kiss.
When he finally entered the study, a blond-haired man spun around, a man Nick would know anywhere. “Winchester!” he greeted. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Nick closed the door. “Did you receive my letter?”
Winchester nodded, his expression smug. “I did, but I came to hear it in person.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I already groveled. What more do you want from me?”
“To hear it once more. And again every day for the rest of my life.”
Nick chuckled. “Fine. You were right. I was a selfish bastard who treated her unfairly. I am grateful to you for helping when she asked, and for bringing her to Venice to find me. I apologize for hitting you and for questioning your pure, unselfish motives. Was that all of it, or did I forget anything?”
“I think that was all. And you’re both happy?”
“Appallingly so, yes.”
“Excellent,” Winchester said, and clapped Nick on his uninjured shoulder. “Then let’s have a drink and you can tell me all about what changed your mind.”
A few minutes later, both men settled in armchairs, brandy glasses in hand. “So,” Winchester began, resting a booted foot upon the opposite knee. “Hard to tell your wife ‘no,’ is it not?”
“Indeed. I daresay she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Did you see her already?”
“For a
few minutes when I first arrived. I told her I was here for you. For a second, I didn’t think she’d leave us alone, afraid we’d come to blows again. I had to tell her that you’d written to me, begging my eternal forgiveness, before she’d agree to find you.”
“Eternal forgiveness? And you say I’m the dramatic one.”
“Oh, you’ve had your moments. The crowd at White’s still talk about the day you came in and laid me out in front of the hazard table.”
Nick sipped his brandy and refrained from commenting. “How’s Quint?”
“Still heartbroken, though the man professes otherwise. I keep telling him that if the Depraved Duke can find happiness with a woman, so can we all.”
“Speaking of happiness, how did you know? How did you know Julia and I were so well suited?” Nick set down his glass. “There was every chance I would turn her away in Venice and your trip would’ve been for naught.”
Winchester shrugged. “I’ve known both of you for a long time, and it was clear there would be a spark. How could there not be with two such passionate people? When you married her, do you remember what I told you?”
Nick searched his brain for a memory of that time more than nine years ago. Only, he’d been too drunk after his brother’s death to remember much. “No, I don’t.”
“I told you she was as fiery and stubborn as you are, and that you were lucky to have her. If anyone could bring you to your knees, I knew it would be Julia.” He set the glass carefully on the desk. “Do you remember what else I told you that day?”
Nick shook his head, watching as his friend stood and removed his coat. Now in his shirtsleeves, Winchester moved to the center of the room.
“I told you that if you ever hurt her, I’d break your jaw.” He motioned for Nick to stand up. “Come now, Colton. Get up and take it like a man.”
Nick choked on a laugh. “You don’t think I’ll stand there and allow you to pummel me, do you?”
