by Tamara Gill
"Are you telling me that Lord Oglemoore is donning a broken nose?"
He grinned, kissing her own nose. "And perhaps a couple of black eyes."
Olivia chuckled, and Jasper stepped back, lifting the velvet case yet again before her. "Will you marry me, my love? I promise you this is no lark. I want you to be my wife, my duchess, my lover and friend. Be mine?" he asked her, taking the ring out and holding it before her.
Olivia bit her lip, hope, love, and relief pouring through her like a balm. She held out her hand, smiling. "Yes, I will marry you, Jasper."
His smile lit up the twilight, and he slipped the ring on. It was heavy and so beautiful. Olivia stared at it a moment, unable to comprehend she was engaged. And not only engaged to be married, but to a man whom she loved so much that at times the emotion had almost overwhelmed her.
He wrenched her into his arms, spinning and kissing her. She clung to him, taking his lips, having missed him so very much. The idea of not being with him as they now were had torn her in two, and she had wondered if she would survive the heartbreak.
"I need you. Please tell me I can escort you back to the house?" he asked, his voice a gravelly, deep growl that promised unfettered pleasure.
"You may," she said after he set her down. She pulled him toward the house at almost a run.
Olivia took Jasper directly to her room, shutting and locking the door on anyone who may disturb them. They stripped before the bed, only stopping to help the other with ties or clips they could not handle themselves before falling onto the mattress.
Jasper kissed her deep and long, relief pouring through him that she was his. That she had agreed to marry him and be his from this day forward. He would never allow anyone to insult or harm her again. He'd been a fool to have allowed his friend his stupid scheme. When he had the chance, he should have told Oglemoore to man up and be honest with Olivia.
Her legs wrapped about his waist and, unable to wait a moment longer, he took her, thrust deep into her welcoming heat, and made them one.
"Oh, Jasper. I have missed you," she gasped, throwing her head against the bedding as he took her with long, hard strokes.
"I missed you." He breathed in her delicious scent of jasmine and another that was wholly her. To think he could have lost the love in his arms through his own foolish actions left him grappling for purpose.
He would never hurt her again or embarrass her in such a way.
He took her lips, kissing her and slowing his strokes, wanting to make tonight last, take their time in making love, enjoy the other without time restraints. He would stay here forever if he didn't want to get her down an aisle within the week.
She shifted beneath him, seeking her own pleasure, and he saw stars. Damn it, she made him want to lose control, to let her use him for her own means. Jasper reached down, clasped her ass and rolled, pulling her to sit atop him.
Olivia stared down at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "This is just another way in which to make love, my darling. Use me at your will," he offered, folding his arms behind his head.
She slid down on him, her exhale of breath making his cock harden to rock. She soon fell into a steady rhythm. Jasper breathed deep, steeling himself not to come. Her breasts swung before him, and she clutched at his chest, rising and falling with abandonment as she sought release.
"You're so damn beautiful," he gasped, reaching for her hips and helping her fuck him.
She moaned, throwing her head back, her long, dark locks tickling his balls. She convulsed around his cock, pulling him into such a strong, pleasurable orgasm that his moans intertwined with hers.
Her rocking upon him dragged his release out for longer than he thought possible. He could hardly wait until he took her again. She was an addiction he would forever crave.
She slumped over him, their bodies still engaged, and gasped for air. "Oh, Jasper. How lucky am I that I can have you in this way whenever I please?" She waved her ring before his face. "Tell me, when can we be married?"
"Return to London, and we shall be married by special license by the week's end. I cannot be without you in my life or bed another night."
"Mmm," she said, placing light kisses across his chest. "Yes, I agree. I do not want to not be there either." She grinned down at him, and his heart thumped hard. "I love you too. Just in case I had not said so already."
He pulled her close, rolling to lay over her. "I'm glad to hear you say it, my love. I would hate to be the only one here in love."
She reached up, clasping his jaw. "You're not alone, and nor will you ever be alone again."
"Perfect." He kissed her soundly, catapulting them into pleasure a second time in as many minutes. The night was young, and there was more indulgence to be had, both in each other's arms and with each other's company—the unspoiled way to end the day.
Epilogue
One year later
True to his word, Jasper married her before the week was out in a small church in London. The Marquess and Marchioness Graham, along with the Duke and Duchess of Carlton, their only witnesses.
Twelve months on and Olivia still had to pinch herself every now and then to remind herself she was indeed married to Jasper, the Duke of Hamlyn, and absolutely, utterly in love with the man.
As promised, the ton did not dare gossip about her. Anyway, the ton had more than enough fodder to keep them busy after her friend Lady Athol married Lord Berry only to run away with Lord Oglemoore to the continent a month later. London had talked of nothing else, and Olivia had not heard from Athol since the day they argued.
All she could hope was that her friend was happy and not regretting her choice, which seemed to change as much as the days of the week.
Now back in the country after a whirlwind Season, Olivia was glad to be at the ducal estate for the winter. Over the past weeks, she had grown severely tired and lethargic in the mornings, her stomach roiling at the oddest smells.
So much so she had sought out her doctor in town, only to have confirmed her most dearly wished-for dream. She was pregnant, and they were going to have a baby.
Olivia strode into the ducal suite, locking the door behind her when she heard the splashing of the bath. Striding into their bathing suite, Olivia made short work of her clothes, the amused, naughty light in Jasper's eyes telling her he did not mind that she was about to join him.
She stepped into the copper tub that sat before a fire, ignoring the bit of water that splashed over the sides. "Good evening, Your Grace. I have missed you today," she said, moving onto his lap, sliding her hands up his chest.
His own clasped her waist, moving her to straddle his legs. "Hmm, I have missed you as well," he said, kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck before nibbling on her ear. She shivered.
"I need to talk to you about something," she managed to say as he continued to tease her.
"Hmm, you do?" he said, his hand coming about to clasp her breast, kneading it. She gasped when his fingers rolled her nipple. "Does that feel good, wife?" he asked.
"Yes, you know it does, but let me talk first, and then we can play. I want to tell you something."
He leaned back, meeting her gaze. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, but there is something.” She shook her head, wanting to dispel his unease. “Everything is absolutely fine. But you know how I have been so very tired of late, somewhat low-spirited and ill."
"Yes," he answered cautiously. "I have noticed," he admitted, his hands idly running over her back.
"Well, I know what has been ailing me of late.”
Jasper frowned, his ministrations on her skin halting. "What is it? Should I be concerned?"
She shook her head, swallowing past the lump in her throat. So many months they had tried for a baby, and each time she bled, she had felt the stab of disappointment, the loss of a small part of them that she so desperately wanted.
"No, not worried. I think you'll be happy." She blinked back tears, and Jasper's frown de
epened.
"Tell me, Olivia. You're scaring me now," he demanded.
She ran her hands over his jaw, reveling in the feel of the stubble there. "I'm pregnant, Jasper. We're going to have a child."
His eyes widened, his mouth moved, and yet nothing came out. It was a first for him. He normally had so much to say. "You're enceinte? Oh my, darling. You scared me half to death."
She laughed as he pulled her into his arms, more water sloshing to the floor. "My darling, darling wife. How happy I am. And are you sure," he said, reaching for her stomach and laying his palm over her there, "that you are well, and nothing is wrong?"
She shook her head. "The doctor suggested rest and healthy eating, no lifting of anything too heavy. Other than that, there is nothing to report."
He kissed her, long and slow, and her stomach fluttered. "I adore you so much. You will want for nothing, pregnant or not. I shall wait on you hand and foot."
She laughed, having lived with him for a year now, there was scant she ever had to do. He pampered, loved, and spoiled her beyond what was necessary at times. Now that she was having his baby, she knew he would only grow worse with his mollycoddling, but she would allow him his way. If it made him feel better, what harm did it do?
"I had started to worry that we may not be able to have children. I hope it's a boy, Jasper," she said, covering his hands on her stomach with hers.
"Whatever it is, I just hope that you are well, along with the baby. That is all that matters."
And seven and a half months later, Olivia did give birth safely. To a girl and a boy, and the duke was yet again in awe of his wife and spoiled her appropriately for the remainder of their days.
As he should.
Thank you for taking the time to read A Duke’s Wild Kiss! I hope you enjoyed the fifth book in my Kiss the Wallflower series.
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If you'd like to learn about book six in my Kiss the Wallflower series, To Kiss a Highland Rose, please read on. I have included chapter one (unedited) for your reading pleasure.
To Kiss a Highland Rose
Kiss the Wallflower, Book 6
Available Dec 7, 2020
Pre-order your copy here
Chapter 1
Edinburgh – 1810
The first week of the Scottish Season was a crush, and it was wonderful. Lady Elizabeth Mackintosh had to admit that being back within society's bosom with all the scandalous goings-on that occurred was just what she needed. It had been so long since she'd traveled away from her brother's estate, taken part of the gaiety her friends were forever reminding her she was missing. With a bountiful glass of chilled champagne in her hand, she inwardly toasted her unmarried friend, Lady Julia Tarrant, for making her attend tonight. The weeks to come would be filled with laughter, fun, and perhaps marriage if she were lucky enough to find a suitable husband.
The sound of a minuet filled the room. Unable to look away, Elizabeth watched the throng of dancers, one of them her good friend, Lady Georgina Dalton, a widow, who seemed exceedingly happy with the man holding her in his arms all but float about the dancefloor. He was very dashing, a little rakish even if the wicked gleam in the gentleman's eyes was any indication.
Married twice and sadly widowed the same number, Elizabeth would have to congratulate Georgina on having the man fall at her feet and so early in the Season. Now, if only introductions could be made for her, with a suitable gentleman who piqued her interest, the night would be perfect indeed.
"Well, well, well, would you look at that fine specimen of a gentleman? Too delicious to be English, don't you think?" said her friend Julia, her gaze fixed on the man across the room.
Elizabeth laughed, taking her arm. Julia, Georgina, and Elizabeth had their Season in London the same year and had formed a close bond ever since. Of course, this was helped by the fact that they were all Scottish by birth, heiresses, or had inherited their family's estates.
"Georgina certainly seems smitten by him. He's too dark-haired to be Scottish. Maybe Spanish, he certainly has eyelashes long enough to be European."
Julia nodded slowly. "Yes, and everyone knows a person's nationality can be guessed by how long one's eyelashes are," she teased.
Elizabeth grinned, not missing the sarcasm in her friend's tone. "Of course they can, silly. Did you not know?" The gentleman in question glanced their way, and Elizabeth quickly looked elsewhere, not wanting to be caught ogling him like a pair of debutantes. But what were friends to do when one was dancing with such a dashing gentleman other than to look and admire.
Julia sighed. "Well, it seems the Spanish fox has caught his hare for the evening, and you must agree, Georgina does seem very taken with the gentleman."
"You said Georgina was very taken with another such gentleman last evening. I no longer hold any sway with your words. You're a terrible tease." Elizabeth smiled, taking a sip of her champagne. "And what about you? Is there no one here tonight that has caught your attention? You cannot remain unmarried forever. There must be a man somewhere in Scotland who's perfect for our Julia."
"No one here, I'm afraid, is exciting enough to marry, but the Season is young and many more nights before us, perhaps my luck may change. And let's not forget, my aunts have threatened to travel here should I not become betrothed before returning home, so I must find someone. If at all possible, I would prefer someone ancient, who'll pass away within the first year of marriage, and I'll not have to bother with husbands after that."
Elizabeth laughed, having forgotten Julia was constantly trying to calm and beguile her two aging aunts. They thought their charge needed their help in all things, including gaining a husband. "So very true, I shall look about and see who's elderly enough to be suitable."
They both were quiet for a moment, watching the play of guests when a pricking of unease slid down Elizabeth's back. She gazed about the room, wondering what it was that had a shiver steal over her. "Should we move away from the windows? I think there's a draft here."
Julia nodded, and taking Elizabeth's arm, they headed to the opposite side of the ballroom. After a few moments at their new locale, the sense that someone was watching her wouldn't abate.
A gentleman bowed before them and asked Julia to dance, which she agreed, casting a grin over her shoulder as she went.
"Good evening, Lady Elizabeth."
The deep English baritone sent a kaleidoscope of thoughts through her mind, of summer days full of laughter and love, of long walks and passionate kisses that would threaten to curl her toes in her silk slippers.
"Do I know you, my lord? I do not believe we've been introduced."
"That's because we have not. I'm Sebastian Denholm, Lord Hastings. It's a pleasure to have your acquaintance, my lady," he said, bowing before her with more deference than was needed.
The English Earl everyone one was talking about this Season here in Edinburgh. "And you know who I am? How?"
He leaned conspiringly close. "Doesn't everyone know who you are?"
Elizabeth started at his reply, knowing only too well what he hinted. It was no secret in the society they graced that she was unlucky in love. In London, all her friends had married around her. One after another during the Season, they were courted and whisked down the aisle before she had time to change her gown. Not her, however. She had been the good luck charm for those looking to wed, but the elusive gentleman for her seemed to be lost. "I beg your pardon, Lord Hastings, but I do not understand your meaning." She would not let him throw her disastrous past Seasons in her face. No matter how handsome he may be.
"I remember you on your coming out in town. London deemed you a good luck charm for debutantes looking to marry. I see you have not been caught by such inducement yet, my lady."
Heat suf
fused her face. She'd fought hard to forget the many young women who only befriended her so they could find husbands. It was the oddest situation and one reason she was attending this year's Season in Scotland. Even so, it did not look like she could escape those who attended from southern locales and who remembered. "How gentlemanly of you to remind me of the title. Is that why you're speaking to me now. Do you hope that your nearness to me will equate to you falling in love and marrying?"
He grinned down at her. "On the contrary. I have no interest in marriage just as it seems you do not."
Elizabeth fought to close her mouth that she was sure was gaping at him. Did he mean that by being by her rendered him safe? Was she so inapt to find a husband that the gentlemen now thought her a secure woman to be around? How absurd! Not to mention humiliating. She turned, facing him. "Let me assure you, my lord, that by being by me does not make you safe from marriage. I'm sure since I seem to be a lucky charm to the women of my acquaintance, it would also work on the men who flock to my side. You would be no different."
"Do many men flock to your side, my lady? Or am I the only one?"
She narrowed her eyes on him, unsure where his questions were leading, if at all anywhere. Why was he near her if he was not interested? He seemed to be playing with words and her to an extent. She did not like it. "You are beside me, are you not? I'm certain you will not be the last to grace my side this evening."
"I sought you out not to tease you, my lady, and I do apologize for bringing up your London Season. I merely wished to introduce myself and inform you of some news that I'm sure you will be well aware of soon enough."
"Really? What is this news you wish for me to know?" Vaguely she remembered his lordship from town, a rake who enjoyed the demimonde and widows more than the debutantes. Handsome as sin, rich and wealthy like many of her acquaintance, but always the same. Men who looked for the next thrill, the next piece of skirt they could hoist. Not marriageable by any length. No matter what anyone said, rakes did not make the best husbands.
