The School for Brides

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  He chuckled. The chemise dropped into the pile of discarded clothing at her feet. He bent forward to press his cheek against hers and gathered her into his arms. She nearly melted in his embrace. “Perhaps we should wait until you have spent the night in my bed to decide if you hate me still.”

  Such arrogance! “Make no mistake, Your Grace.” As he caressed her ribs, then slid his hands up to pause just below her breasts, a low moan escaped her and she arched back against his chest. The duke needed no further invitation. His hands splayed open to cup the full flesh. Gently, he teased her nipples through the thick layers of cloth, and they hardened beneath his play. She gasped. “I will loathe you to my dying breath.”

  Her body ached deliciously in places it should not. He released her and continued with chemise removal. He nibbled the exposed skin of her shoulders as he peeled off her clothing, one item at a time. She couldn’t focus on anything besides his hands and mouth, and the deep, powerful need inside her.

  It was the coolness of the room that alerted her to her near nakedness when her drawers slid down her bare legs. With a last burst of virginal modesty, she tried to cross her arms over herself to keep the last thin chemise. But he loosened the laces and the thin cloth gaped. Her hands kept her breast from exposure. Cotton and wool were piled up to her knees already, but she couldn’t give up this one final barrier.

  He bent and swept her into his arms, kicking aside the garments. Then he lowered her back to her feet, placing himself behind her. She was so intensely aware of him that he didn’t need to touch her so that she could feel him infuse her with his presence.

  “Please,” Eva begged as his hands cupped her hips and moved lower to caress her thighs. His chest pressed intimately against her back, and she felt a hard ridge at the cleft between her buttocks. She was weak and hot, unable to put into words what she wanted. There was no previous experience to guide her.

  A chuckle broke his silence. He walked around her, always touching, and ran a fingertip down the curve of her jaw. She could no longer use her clothing as an excuse for her intense and wavering emotions. She wanted him. Desperately.

  “I never expected to find such delightful curves beneath your hideous gowns, my dear. But I fear the unmasking is not complete.” He tugged off her spectacles and reached to set them on a nearby table. “You have lovely amber eyes. It’s a shame to cover them needlessly.”

  Eva locked onto his gaze, some sanity returning. “It is a shame to torment me as you have, Your Grace.”

  A second chuckle filled the room. His green eyes dipped to examine her mouth.

  Leaning forward, he whispered against her lips, “Tell me you want me, Miss Black.”

  In spite of his outrageous antics, the corners of her mouth twitched. “I am powerless to resist you, and you well know it,” she murmured. Her hands skimmed up his stomach and twisted into his shirt.

  A slow and wicked grin crossed his lips. “I was forced to give up Arabella because of your interference.” He teased the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I think it only fair you give me something in return.”

  The advance continued until he touched her wig. She stilled. It was the last of her costume to hide behind. Once it was gone, she would be completely exposed to him as Evangeline. Miss Black would be lost in his eyes forever.

  “It is not a fair trade, and you well know it. She never truly belonged to you.” The man was as stubborn in his convictions as he was spoiled and arrogant.

  “Then we are of different opinions, Miss Black,” he said simply. “For I think the trade very fair.”

  “And how often should I expect to be called to your bed before my debt is paid, Your Grace?” Eva tipped her head up and arched a brow. She felt his rapid heartbeat beneath her hands and lifted her eyes. A slight shift, and her thigh pressed intimately against his. “Once? Twice? Thrice?”

  His eyes darkened, and he caught her around the waist. His large hands kneaded her flesh. “Are you so certain you will be satisfied once the bargain is met, Miss Black?” he said, holding her gaze. “You may discover spending time in my bed not as abhorrent as you believe.”

  Eva sighed and leaned into him. With nothing but a chemise and his clothing between them, she felt the entire length of his muscled body from her breasts to her knees.

  She could no longer pretend that she did not want him.

  She lifted onto her toes and pressed her breasts hard against his chest. “Kiss me, Your Grace.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nicholas stilled. Along with desire, there was a touch of fear in her beautiful amber eyes that took him aback. In spite of her unexpected request, he sensed her hesitation and felt tremors ripple through her body.

  The last remains of her spinster disguise. If Crawford hadn’t discovered that she was a courtesan’s daughter, Nicholas would suspect she really was an innocent.

  Impossible. Not once, when he pressed her to replace Arabella in his bed, had she claimed virginity in an effort to keep him at bay.

  Impatience welled. Tonight he would show this spinster that he wasn’t a brute, once and for all.

  First he would finish her unveiling.

  He reached out and pulled the wig free. Hairpins tinkled across the floor as a mass of red-gold hair tumbled across her shoulders and down her back.

  He went hard. Lud, she was beautiful!

  Eva grabbed for the wig, but it was too late. Before she could react, he cupped her head and pulled her mouth to his. Full and sweet, her lips, her kiss set off a firestorm down his body. Eva clutched at his shoulders, trying to push him back, but she was pinned against him. She let out little sounds of protest as he explored the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

  Never had a woman so ensnared his mind, his body. He had no fear of another bite as he nibbled her lips. He’d take the punishment if it meant the nip would end with her consent to allow him to plunder her sensuous mouth.

  Eva tasted brandy and felt his erection press against her belly as she tipped her head to accept his tongue. He paused momentarily, arms slack, then clasped her to him and thrust deep. A centuries-old mating dance began.

  How she wanted this! Her body hadn’t been her own since his first touch, and she couldn’t take the confounded aching anymore. There had to be a way to ease her suffering, and she knew this dreadfully handsome duke was the key. It was he who had started the firestorm in her; it would be he who would put it out.

  She lifted to her toes to mold her body closer to his. The duke’s hand slid down to cup her buttock and ground her body against his erection. The intimacy shocked her. Still, she could not find the strength for any more regrets.

  The junction between her legs throbbed as she snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she had. Tongues tangled, Eva became a wild thing, shoving her hand in his hair as he tangled her locks in his. She wanted to feel his bare chest beneath her hands, to run her fingers through the dusting of hair there.

  No more games. What Eva now wanted was for him to show her all the delights a man of experience could teach a woman.

  It was he who pulled back and stared, stunned, into her eyes. Her mind found its way through the fog. “I despise you, Your Grace,” she managed to say before she drew his head down for another searing kiss.

  Nicholas Drake, her enemy, scooped her up into his arms and carried her from the dining room, heedless of any servants. She broke the kiss and nuzzled his neck, raining a trail of kisses up to and along his hard jaw. She inhaled his scent while he carried her up two flights of stairs to a large chamber at the end of a long, darkened hallway.

  He pushed open the door, then kicked it closed behind him. A small picture frame wobbled and crashed to the floor. He dropped her to her feet and bent to kiss her while tearing at her thin chemise. Eva eagerly released her claim on the cloth. She clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head as her chemise slid to the floor. She followed her instincts, knew what she wanted, and by the look in his eyes it was enoug
h. She felt positively wanton and wicked.

  Naked, she felt no shyness. The raging desire in his face made her powerful, and she reached to run her hands over the wide expanse and planes of his broad, muscled chest. The warm skin beckoned, and she paused to trail her fingertips over his nipples.

  He groaned and pulled at his breeches, popping the buttons open. Eva stared when he shoved the cloth down over his narrow hips and his erection sprang free. She clasped her hand around him, fascinated by her first look at a naked man.

  And he was magnificent. But her exploration was cut short when he clasped her to him, reclaimed her mouth, and pushed her backward, his hands everywhere from her hair to her thighs and back, touching her in her most intimate places.

  The duke edged her toward the bed, holding her in the circle of his arms lest she trip and fall.

  When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she fell backward with a small laugh, and scrambled on hands and knees to the center of the bed. He followed her, flattening her beneath his outstretched body, and kissed her deeply. The duke braced himself over her, easing open her thighs, the tip of his erection poised and waiting at the entrance of her body.

  “So beautiful,” he breathed, and lowered his head to suck a nipple into his warm mouth. “Delightful.”

  She let out a small cry and arched her back. He suckled for a moment, then turned his attention to the other breast, nipping gently at the peak. She played with his soft hair as the magnificent beast teased her with his expert mouth, eliciting sounds of delight before reclaiming her lips.

  Eva ran her hands over him eagerly, breathlessly, impatiently. She pushed aside regrets and hatred, and instead reveled in the feel of his hard frame, both soft and warm, muscled and lean.

  When he lifted his head to peer into her eyes, his hair fell in disarray around his handsome face.

  He grinned wickedly. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” she moaned. He then turned his attention to her nipples again, and rained kisses across her stomach and up her neck until she could no longer tolerate the raw, aching throb between her legs. Instinctively, she knew she would not be satisfied until the coupling was complete.

  Desperate, she lifted her hips to press his cock against her throbbing core. “Please, Your Grace.” And he was quick to oblige her. With one swift movement, he sheathed himself inside her. She whimpered in pain when he breached the barrier of her innocence with a deep, penetrating thrust.

  His Grace paused. “You are a virgin?”

  She nodded. “No longer.”

  And in that moment their frantic coupling changed. His face softened and his touch gentled. He leaned to kiss her lids and the prickle of virgin tears at the corners of her eyes.

  Eva looked up at him shyly, and the tenderness she saw in this duke as he peered softly down at her shook her deeply. With gentle care, he began slow, measured thrusts into her, allowing her to adjust to his body and to ease through the dull pain of her lost innocence.

  He kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck, nibbling and teasing as she became accustomed to his body and pleasure built inside her. Little gasps and whimpers escaped. He drove into her gently and thoroughly, driving her to the brink of insanity with his magnificent body. Eva cupped his buttocks and kneaded the firm flesh. When she felt she could take no more, and she called for mercy, he deepened his thrusts and drove her over the edge to a stunning release.

  She cried out and tumbled back on the bed. The duke groaned and buried himself to the hilt as he found his own satisfaction.

  Spent, Eva sighed and ran her fingertips over his back and across his buttocks when he lowered himself on his elbows over her and kissed her. She wasn’t at all sure how she had gotten to this place and into this bed; the details where hazy. She only knew she’d been thoroughly made love to by her despised duke, and she couldn’t work up a single regret.

  His Grace moved off her after a moment and stretched out at her side, his head resting on his open palm. Their legs tangled together. His normally tight face was relaxed, giving the dark devil duke an almost boyish cast.

  “You may not believe this, but taking you into my bed this evening was not my intention.” He brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. “I thought you would club me with a candlestick and run away.”

  Eva narrowed her lids. “So I am to blame for this?” she said tartly. “You could have voiced your honorable intentions while I still had the chance to flee with my innocence intact.”

  His mouth twitched. “In all fairness, I didn’t know you were a virgin. You seemed so intent on seducing me, I found I could not resist, or risk disappointing you.”

  She gasped, and slapped his hand away from her breast. “I seduced you?”

  “That is the way I remember it, Miss Black.”

  Of all the notions! Eva sputtered and placed her hand on his chest when he dipped his head to kiss her. “You are such an insufferable man. I was innocent, and you, a man clearly of great experience. You took advantage of me in a time of weakness. In fact, you own me. I was forced to comply.”

  The smile left his face. “It was never my intention to force you into my bed.” He slid up and leaned against the headboard. “I was angry. I’m still angry. You had no business interfering in my life. And in spite of what you believe, I cared for Arabella. We were ideally matched.” He ran a hand over his head and scratched the back of his skull. “She wasn’t always unhappy with our arrangement, Miss Black.”

  If he’d seduced Arabella as he’d seduced her, she could believe her friend had found some satisfaction in their physical arrangement.

  But Arabella was happy now with a new life, a husband, and soon a new baby—none of which she would ever have had if she’d remained the duke’s plaything.

  And Eva had taken her place. “The past is just that, the past, Your Grace. The sooner you move beyond your disappointment, the sooner you will be able to find peace.”

  It took a moment and a pointed stare before he spoke. He trailed a fingertip between her breasts. Humor returned to his eyes. “What we shared here has gone far to mend my anger, Miss Black.”

  Heat crept up her neck. “You may call me Eva, or Evangeline, if you prefer, Your Grace.” She looked down at her swollen nipples and crossed her arms over them. Her eyes drifted down his naked body to his softened cock. “I think Miss Black is a bit formal after what transpired here.”

  It felt odd to think of her as anything but Miss Black. “You did have a choice, Eva. A single no, and I would have released you. Yet, you kissed me and undressed me as eagerly as I did you. You cannot say I forced you.”

  After a pause, she slowly shook her head. “You did not force me. I came to your bed willingly.”

  Thank God. He rose to his knees and knelt in front of her. He drew her up off her rump until they were face to face. “If you ever come to my bed again, it will be because you want me, not for any other reason. I will not use your debt to manipulate you again. You and your mother will always have a home.”

  Not touching, they looked into each other’s eyes. He watched a procession of raw emotions flicker through her. He wanted to take her into his arms and make love to her again and again, until she had no more regrets. He wanted to make love to her until he no longer saw Miss Black, the spinster who upended his life, in her, but the elusive Miss Winfield—Eva—who hid from the world. He wanted to know every inch of the woman behind the spectacles and wig.

  He wanted her, the beautiful courtesan’s daughter.

  “I think I shall call you Nicholas, Your Grace,” she whispered finally as she spanned a hand in the center of his chest. “Your Grace seems too formal for this situation.”

  Nicholas grinned as she wrapped her arm around his neck and drew him down to the bed.

  Nicholas tucked a hand behind his head and the other around Eva. Her explosive passion had both shocked and delighted him. Even now, as he listened to her breathe, her soft hair tangled beneath his shoulder, it was impossible to believe Eva
Black and Evangeline Winfield were one and the same.

  How easily he’d been tricked. He’d been so angry with her since their first meeting; he’d refused to see beyond her costume. He wanted so much to punish her, to bring her to heel, to make her beg for mercy.

  But it had been she who had knocked him senseless.

  A virgin? A courtesan’s daughter had been an innocent. Had he known from the first, would it have made a difference? Perhaps. But they were beyond regrets. She’d been thoroughly made love to. There was no taking these moments back, nor did he desire to. He wanted her just as she was now, soft and pliable beside him in her sleep.

  The question now became what he was to do with her. Certainly, taking her innocence had satisfied his desire for revenge. He’d ruined her more effectively than purchasing her debts ever could. He should free her. Yet, somehow he knew it would not be that simple. She’d crawled under his skin with her beautiful amber eyes and surprisingly passionate nature.

  If she agreed to continue their arrangement and become his courtesan in truth, would she be satisfied to remain in the background when he married?

  She helped courtesans escape their protectors. It was impossible to imagine she would be satisfied to live her days as one of them, lounging about in a scandalous gown on a settee, awaiting his pleasure while reading some inane poetry book.

  The idea broke a smile across his face. He imagined her outrage and the scathing words she’d use when expressing her refusal. Though he’d spent only a handful of hours in her presence, he knew enough to know she wouldn’t be pleased with the offer to become a kept lover.

  In the darkness he studied the soft angles of her lovely cheekbones and slightly pointed chin, but came up with no solution. Perhaps he should think on it in the morning, when her thigh was not draped over his and a breast was not pressed against his ribs. How had he ever found her plain and uninteresting?