by Lisa Kleypas
Andrew hugged her tightly, his hands sliding repeatedly over her back. Then he spoke quietly in her hair, with a meaningful tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in excitement. “There is a matter I have yet to take care of. As I recall, I left you a virgin the last time we met.”
“You did,” Caroline replied with a wobbly smile. “Much to my displeasure.”
His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her with a mixture of adoration and avid lust that caused her knees to weaken. She leaned heavily against him, her tongue sliding and curling against his. Excitement thumped inside her, and she arched against him in an effort to make the embrace closer, her body craving the weight and pressure of him.
“Then I’ll do my best to oblige you this time,” he said when their lips parted. “Take me to your bedroom.”
“Now? Here?”
“Why not?” She felt him smile against her cheek. “Are you worried about propriety? You, who had me handcuffed to a bed—”
“That was Cade’s doing, not mine,” she said, blushing.
“Well, you didn’t mind taking advantage of the situation, did you?”
“I was desperate!”
“Yes, I remember.” Still smiling, he kissed the side of her neck and slid his hand to her breast, caressing the gentle curve until her nipple contracted into a hard point. “Would you rather wait until we marry?” he murmured.
She took his hand and pulled him out of the parlor, leading him upstairs to her bedroom. The walls were covered with flower-patterned paper that matched the pink-and-white embroidered counterpane on the bed. In such dainty surroundings, Andrew looked larger and more masculine than ever. Caroline watched in fascinated delight as he began to remove his clothes, discarding his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt, draping the fine garments on a shield-backed chair. She unbuttoned her own gown and stepped out of it, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. As she stood in her undergarments and stockings, Andrew came to her and pulled her against his naked body. The hard, thrusting ridge of his erection burned through the frail muslin of her drawers, and she let out a small gasp.
“Are you afraid?” he whispered, lifting her higher against him, until her toes almost left the ground.
She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his warm skin, lifting her hands to stroke the thick, cool silk of his hair. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “Don’t stop, Andrew. I want to be yours. I want to feel you inside me.”
He set her on the bed and removed her clothes slowly, kissing every inch of her skin as it was uncovered, until she lay naked and open before him. Murmuring his love to her, he touched her breasts with his mouth, licked and teased until her nipples formed rosy, tight buds. Caroline arched up to him in ardent response, urging him to take her, until he pulled away with a breathless laugh. “Not so fast,” he said, his hand descending to her stomach, stroking in soothing circles. “You’re not ready for me yet.”
“I am,” she insisted, her body aching and feverish, her heart pounding.
He smiled and rolled her to her stomach, and she groaned as she felt his mouth trail down her spine, kissing and nibbling. His teeth nipped at her buttocks before his lips traveled to the fragile creases at the backs of her knees. “Andrew,” she groaned, writhing in torment. “Please don’t make me wait.”
He turned her over once again, and his wicked mouth wandered up the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, and his strong hands carefully urged her thighs apart. Caroline whimpered as she felt him lick the damp, soft cleft between her legs. Another, deeper stroke of his tongue, and another, and then he found the excruciatingly tender bud and suckled, his tongue flicking her, until she shuddered and screamed, her ecstatic cries muffled in the folds of the embroidered counterpane.
Andrew kissed her lips and settled between her thighs. She moaned in encouragement as she felt the plum-shaped head of his sex wedge against the slick core of her body. He pushed gently, filling her … hesitating as she gasped with discomfort. “No,” she said, clutching frantically at his hips, “don’t stop … I need you … please, Andrew …”
He groaned and thrust forward, burying himself completely, while her flesh throbbed sweetly around him. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, breathing hard, while his hips pushed forward in gentle nudges. His face was damp, suffused with perspiration and heat, his long, dark lashes spiky with moisture. Caroline was transfixed by the sight of him—he was such a beautiful man … and he was hers. He invaded her in a slow, patient rhythm, his muscles rigid, his forearms braced on either side of her head. Writhing in pleasure, she lifted her hips to take him more deeply. His mouth caught hers hungrily, his tongue searching and sliding.
“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, her wet lips moving against his. “I love you, Andrew, love you… .”
The words seemed to break his self-control, and his thrusts became stronger, deeper, until he buried himself inside her and shuddered violently, his passion spending, his breath stopping in the midst of an agonizing burst of pleasure.
Long, lazy minutes later, while they were still tangled together, their heartbeats returning to a regular rhythm, Caroline kissed Andrew’s shoulder.
“Darling,” she said drowsily, “I want to ask something of you.”
“Anything.” His fingers played in her hair, sifting through the silken locks.
“Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. Promise to trust me, and never to keep secrets from me again.”
“I will.” Andrew raised himself up on one elbow, staring down at her with a crooked smile. “Now I want to ask something of you. Could we forgo the large wedding, and instead have a small ceremony on New Year’s Day?”
“Of course,” Caroline said promptly. “I wouldn’t have wanted a large wedding in any case. But why so soon?”
He lowered his mouth to hers, his lips warm and caressing. “Because I want my new beginning to coincide with the new year. And because I need you too badly to wait for you.”
She smiled and shook her head in wonder, her eyes shining as she stared up at him. “Well, I need you even more.”
“Show me,” he whispered, and she did just that.
An Excerpt from Devil in Spring by Lisa Kleypas
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Lisa Kleypas’
Devil in Spring
Coming February 2017
Prologue
Evangeline, the Duchess of Kingston, lifted her infant grandson from the nursery tub and wrapped him snugly in a soft white towel. Chortling, the baby braced his sturdy legs and attempted to stand in her lap. He explored her face and hair with grasping wet hands, and Evie laughed at his affectionate mauling. “Be gentle, Stephen.” She winced as he grabbed the double strand of pearls around her neck. “Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have worn those at your bath-time. Too much ttemptation.” Evie had always spoken with a stammer, although it was now very slight compared to what it had been in her youth.
“Your Grace,” the young nursemaid, Ona, exclaimed, hurrying toward her. “I would have lifted Master Stephen out of the tub for you. A fair armful, he is. Solid as a brick.”
“He’s no trouble at all,” Evie assured her, kissing the baby’s rosy cheeks and prying his grip from her pearls.
“Your Grace is very kind to help with the children on Nanny’s day off.” Carefully the nursemaid took the baby from Evie’s arms. “Any of the housemaids would be glad to do it, since you have more important things to attend to.”
“There’s n-nothing more important than my grandchildren. And I enjoy spending time in the nursery—it reminds me of when my children were small.”
Ona chuckled as Stephen reached for the white ruffled cap on her head. “I’ll powder and dress him now.”
“I’ll tidy up the bath things,” Evie said.
“Your Grace, you mustn’t.” Clearly the nursemaid was trying to strike an effective balance between sternness and pleading. “Not in your fine silk dress—you must sit in the parlor and read a book, o
r embroider something.” As Evie parted her lips to argue, Ona added meaningfully, “Nanny would have my head if she knew I’d let you help as much as I have.”
Checkmate.
Knowing that Nanny would have both their heads, Evie responded with a resigned nod, although she was unable to resist muttering, “I’m wearing an apron.”
The nursemaid left the bathroom with a satisfied smile, carrying Stephen to the nursery.
Still kneeling on the bath rug in front of the tub, Evie reached behind her back for the flannel apron ties. Ruefully she reflected that it was no easy task to satisfy the servants’ expectations of how a duchess should behave. They were determined to prevent her from doing anything more strenuous than stirring her tea with a silver spoon. And while she was a grandmother of two, she was still slim and fit—easily able to lift a slippery infant from a washtub, or romp with the children through the orchard. Just last week, she had been lectured by the master gardener for climbing over a stacked stone wall to retrieve a few stray toy arrows.
As she fumbled with the stubborn apron knot, Evie heard a footstep behind her. Although there was no other sound or sign of the visitor’s identity, she knew who it was, even before he sank to his knees behind her. Strong fingers brushed hers away, and the knot was freed in a deft tug.
A low, silken murmur caressed the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. “I see we’ve hired a new nanny. How delightful.” Clever masculine hands slipped beneath the loosening apron, moving in a supple caress from her waist to her breasts. “What a buxom little wench. I predict you’ll do well here.”
Evie closed her eyes, leaning back between his spread thighs. A gentle mouth, designed for sin and sensation, wandered lightly over her neck.
“I should probably warn you,” the seductive voice continued, “to keep your distance from the master. He’s an infamous lecher.”
A smile came to her lips. “So I’ve heard. Is he as wicked as they say?”
“No. Much worse. Especially when it comes to women with red hair.” He plucked a few pins from her coiffure until a long braid fell over her shoulder. “Poor lass—I’m afraid he won’t leave you alone.”
Evie shivered in reflexive pleasure as she felt him kiss his way along the side of her neck. “H-how should I handle him?”
“Frequently,” he said in-between kisses.
A helpless giggle escaped her as she twisted in his arms to face him.
Even after three decades of marriage, Evie’s heart still skipped a beat at the sight of her husband, formerly Lord St. Vincent, now the Duke of Kingston. Sebastian had matured into a magnificent man with a presence that both intimidated and dazzled. Since ascending to the dukedom ten years ago, he had acquired a veneer of dignity that befitted a man of his considerable power. But no one could look into those remarkable light blue eyes, alive with glints of fire and ice, without recalling that had he had once been the most wicked rake in England. He still was—Evie could attest to that.
Time had treated Sebastian lovingly, and always would. He was a beautiful man, lean and elegant, his tawny golden hair now lightly brushed with silver at the temples. A lion in winter, whom no one would cross except at their peril. Maturity had given him a look of cool, incisive authority, the sense of a man who had seen and experienced enough that he could rarely, if ever, be outmaneuvered. But when something amused or touched him, his smile was both incandescent and irresistible.
“Oh, it’s you,” Sebastian said in a tone of mild surprise, seeming to ponder how he had ended up kneeling on a bathroom rug with his wife in his arms. “I was prepared to debauch a resisting servant girl, but you’re a more difficult case.”
“You can debauch me,” Evie offered cheerfully.
Her husband smiled, his glowing gaze moving gently over her face. He smoothed back a few escaping curls that had lightened from ruby to soft apricot. “My love, I’ve tried for thirty years. But despite my dedicated efforts …” A sweetly erotic kiss brushed her lips. “… you still have the innocent eyes of that shy wallflower I eloped with. Can’t you try to look at least a little jaded? Disillusioned?” He laughed quietly at her efforts and kissed her again, this time with a teasing, sensuous pressure that caused her pulse to quicken.
“Why did you come to find me?” Evie asked languidly, her head tilting back as his lips slid to her throat.
“I’ve just received news about your son.”
“Which one?”
“Gabriel. There’s been a scandal.”
“Why is he your son when you’re pleased with him, and my son whenever he’s done something wicked?” Evie asked as Sebastian removed her apron and began to unfasten the front of her bodice.
“Since I’m the virtuous parent,” he said, “it only stands to reason that his wickedness must come from you.”
“You h-have that exactly backwards,” she informed him.
“Do I?” Sebastian fondled her slowly as he considered her words. “I’m the wicked one? No, my pet, that can’t be right. I’m sure it’s you.”
“You,” she said decisively, and her breath hastened as his caresses became more intimate.
“Hmm. This must be sorted out at once. I’m taking you straight to bed.”
“Wait. Tell me more about Gabriel. Does the scandal have something to do with … that woman?” It was more or less public knowledge that Gabriel was having an affair with the American ambassador’s wife. Evie had heartily disapproved of the relationship from the beginning, of course, and had hoped it would end soon. That had been two years ago.
Lifting his head, Sebastian looked down at her with a slight frown. He sighed shortly. “He’s managed to compromise an earls’ daughter. One of the Ravenels.”
Evie frowned, pondering the name, which sounded familiar. “Do we know that family?”
“I was acquainted with the old earl, Lord Trenear. His wife was a flighty, shallow sort—you met her once at a garden show and discussed her orchid collection.”
“Yes, I remember.” Unfortunately, Evie hadn’t liked the woman. “They had a daughter?”
“Twins. Out for their first Season this year. It seems that your idiot son was caught in flagrante delicto with one of them.
“He takes after his father,” Evie said.
Looking highly insulted, Sebastian rose to his feet in a graceful motion and pulled her up with him. “His father was never caught.”
“Except by me,” Evie said smugly.
Sebastian laughed. “True.”
“What does in flagrante delicto mean, exactly?”
“The literal translation? ‘While the crime is blazing.’” Picking her up easily, he said, “I believe a demonstration is in order.”
“But what about the s-scandal? What about Gabriel, and the Ravenel girl, and—”
“The rest of the world can wait,” Sebastian said firmly. “I’m going to debauch you for the ten thousandth time, Evie—and for once, I want you to pay attention.”
“Yes, sir,” she said demurely, and looped her arms around her husband’s neck as he carried her to their bedroom.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author LISA KLEYPAS graduated from Wellesley College with a political science degree. She is a RITA award winning author of both historical romance and contemporary women’s fiction. Her novels are published in fourteen different languages and are bestsellers all over the world. She lives in Washington State with her husband, Gregory, and their two children.
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By Lisa Kleypas
I Will
Marrying Winterborne
ColdHearted Rake
Scandal in Spring
Devil in Winter
It Happened One Autumn
Secrets of a Summer Night
Again the Magic
Where’s My Hero?
(with Kinley McGregor and Julia Quinn)
Worth Any Price
When Strangers Marry
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Lady Sophia’s Lover
Suddenly You
Where Dreams Begin
Someone to Watch Over Me
Stranger in My Arms
Because You’re Mine
Somewhere I’ll Find You
Three Weddings and a Kiss
(with Kathleen E. Woodiwiss,
Catherine Anderson, and Loretta Chase)
Prince of Dreams
Midnight Angel
Dreaming of You
Then Came You
Only With Your Love
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Devil in Spring copyright © 2017 by Lisa Kleypas.
I WILL. Copyright © 2001 by Lisa Kleypas. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
This novella was originally published under the title “I Will” in the anthology Wish List, published in 2001 by Leisure Books.
Digital Edition DECEMBER 2016 ISBN: 9780062667908
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