Kiss Me, Duke: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 5

by Gill, Tamara

* * *

  Hugh wanted Molly with a need that he'd not expected to feel. His body was not itself. He ached every hour of every day, craved with an urgency that made his stomach churn. He needed her touch and her sweet, untutored kisses. She was all he thought about. A novelty he'd not experienced ever. But he was torn. What would she think of him when she found out the truth of his departure from England? Of what he was accused of?

  Even if those accusations were incorrect, it did not change the fact that everyone thought it as truth. Miss Laura Cox was from a wealthy family, circulated in his social sphere. Even if her father wasn't titled, they were rich enough to be included in the nobility's social calendar. His brother had gone about his life in London after ruining Laura without a blink of an eye. Only too happy to ooh and ahh over the rumors, commiserate with his friends of his brother's downfall and atrocious behavior. A downfall that Henry should have faced instead of Hugh.

  How was he to tell Molly of his past? To expect her to believe that he was innocent of the crime? It was his fault. He should never have agreed to take the fall. Should have told the truth and let his brother face the wrath of their peers. Laura, a sweet woman who he remembered being full of life and promise, had not deserved what she was meted out. His brother, having played with her emotions, should have offered for her hand, especially when Henry took her innocence and got her with child.

  Henry had not. Instead, his brother had shunned her, watched from afar as the light in her eyes dimmed to a deathly gray. Ignored her until she no longer attended events and eventually left for the country. Hugh remembered the day his mother had received the missive from Miss Cox, demanding the Duke of St. Albans make good on his promise to marry her. That she would tell her father of his conduct if he did not do the right thing.

  His mother had been enraged toward Laura. A fit of misplaced anger, as it should have been directed at her eldest son. From that point on, Henry ceased all communication with Miss Cox and explained that they did not take well to threats. That there was no proof that he was the father or that she had not given out her body to other gentlemen of their set.

  That was when Hugh was asked to be the gentleman who had ruined her. To be the one to take the blame, so the head of the family's reputation wouldn't be besmirched. He refused, of course, and so his mother and brother put into play the rumors, the slander that forced his hand.

  To this day, that decision haunted him, and now, standing before Molly, he knew his truth would be the end of their newly forming friendship.

  She would hate him for the fiend, the lying ass that he was. The bastard he'd been.

  And so this morning, he had fled Rome. Had ridden out before dawn, determined to leave Molly and the temptation she brought to his life. The wants and needs to be a man she could love, admire, and marry. He had started toward Naples, removing himself from her life, leaving her to her holiday and tours, not being a distraction in her world.

  He may be the Duke of St. Albans now, but his brother had gone to his grave, the respectable, noble god. Hugh was the degenerate, scandalous sibling who ruined innocent women and broke families apart.

  True or not, it was what everyone believed.

  "I want you. With each breath that I breathe, I want you more, and yet I cannot have you." With each inhalation, her towel lifted, giving him a small glimpse of her ample bosom. Her skin was fragrant, smelled of sweet flowers, and his mouth watered with the want that thrummed through him. He wanted to kiss, taste his way over her skin, gorge on her until he was satisfied.

  Which, he was starting to believe, would never be the case.

  Her tongue came out, licking her lips at his words, and his cock hardened. He was acting as bad as his brother, wanting to deflower an innocent woman just to quell his wicked appetites.

  "Why can we not be together? If we both choose to be so?" Molly asked him, her eyes, fathomless pools of need he could happily drown in as she stared at him, waited for him to answer.

  The answer was as complicated as his emotions toward the woman standing before him. Tangled and caught up about them. If she only knew the truth, the answer to her question would be simple. He would never even have the opportunity to court her, for she would never have given him a second glance. "You're a virgin, an unmarried maid. I will not ruin you," he said instead.

  "I'm also eight and twenty. I think I am old enough to choose my path. To determine what I want and when I want it. I want you too, Hugh." She sighed, stepping closer to him, the linen of her towel teasing his chest. "I do not understand what is happening to me, but when I'm around you, all I can think about is your touch. I ache in places for you that I did not know existed before we met. I—"

  He kissed her. Hard. Took her mouth in a searing kiss that startled him in its intensity. To stand there, hearing her words, was torture he could not endure. Her tongue tangled with his, her arms wrapping about his neck, her towel forgotten.

  He reached behind her, pulling it free from her body. His hands snaked across her skin and clasped her ass, picking her up to straddle him. She gasped against his lips, but did not shy away, kissed him with an abandon that left him reeling for purpose.

  A voice, a drum in his mind told him to stop. That this was wrong, he was acting like his brother, but he could not. He could no sooner deny her needs than he could deny himself air.

  This is not what he'd thought would occur between them when he'd first met her, but having grown to know her over the past week, he realized that it was inevitable they would come together. The attraction, the sizzling air that always circulated about them when they were together, was proof enough that they would become one.

  She undulated against his cock, moaning through their kiss, and he walked them over to the bath. He set her down, ripping his shirt over his head and throwing it away somewhere over his back. The touch of her hands on the buttons of his breeches made his stomach quake. She made short work of them, ripping his pants open and assisting him in pulling them down. She stood back, staring at him, a wicked glint and admiration in her eyes as she took her fill.

  Hugh stood before her, quiet and willing for her to enjoy what was hers. For it was true. He was hers, forever after this night. He would never look at another woman, not after bedding such a sweet, beautiful being such as his Molly.

  Molly took his hand, leading him into the water. The bath was hot, the fragrant scent of flowers permeating from the steam. Hugh stood to the side of the bath, leaning up against it as he watched her float about in the water before him. Hell, she was beautiful, made his heart ache.

  "You're too far away." The words reverberated about in his mind, forcing him to take into account that she only had three weeks left with him before leaving for England. He could not let her go. To remain in Rome without her left a hollow, gaping wound deep in his chest.

  He'd been content before, went about his days busy with his estates, with his winery in Naples, but to think of going back to the way his life was before Molly was no longer possible. He already knew he would pine for her, miss her, want her until it drove him mad, or pushed him back to England. A country that he would not return to, not after it turned against him without a second thought.

  Her lips twisted into a teasing grin, and she swam up against him, straddling him. The breath in his lungs seized at the slippery, willing feel of her in his arms. He tamped down his rakish needs that wanted to seize, conquer, and take what she was so obviously willing to give.

  He kissed her, starved of her since the last they were together. He could get used to having her just as they were. Alone and as if the world and its prejudices could not touch them, would not impinge on their decisions or life.

  "Stay with me in Rome," he pleaded, holding her fast against him, biting back a groan when her naked self slipped against his cock.

  "I will be honest with you, Hugh, because I don't want any secrets between us, but I cannot stay. Not because I do not want to, but because I will not be your mistress. I will not be anyone's mist
ress."

  He frowned, tipping up her chin so she would look at him. "I do not want you to be my mistress. I want more from you than that." He wanted her to be his wife, but how could he ask her to be so when she didn't know anything about him, and when she did, she would likely scorn and run for the hills.

  It was a risk he would have to take, for damn it all to hell, he didn't want to lose the woman in his arms. She was perfect for him in every way. For the first time in his life, he was where he wanted to be and with the woman who completed his circle of happiness.

  "How much more?" she asked him, her eyes full of trepidation at what his next words would be.

  "I know we have not known each other for long, hell, we hardly know each other, but for the first time in my existence, I know what I feel is right. It is what I want and what I want most of all is you. Will you marry me, Molly? Be mine?"

  * * *

  Molly stared at Hugh, her mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts over why she should not marry him. Why the answer to this question ought to be a no, they did not know each other, had met but a week before. Even so, the thought of saying no to the man who held her in his arms and watched her with something akin to fear lurking in the deep depths of his eyes, was impossible to fathom. She wanted to marry him, to be his and no one else's.

  She also knew that never had she felt about anyone else how she felt about Hugh. Her body came alive when he was around. Today when she had explored the markets alone and without Hugh, only Miss Sinclair for company, she realized that a little spark that lit Rome to a glowing beacon was not there. Hugh made her travels about the city enjoyable, brought humor and knowledge, gave her a taste of this foreign, ancient city she would otherwise not have experienced.

  She was falling in love with him as much as her mind had fallen in love with Rome.

  Molly stared at him, so very thankful that she had found the man before her. A man who would be hers forever. All hers and no one else's, even if she had to travel halfway around the world to find him. "Yes. Yes, I will marry you."

  He smiled before kissing her. His mouth was hot, insistent, and her body hummed for completion, to be taken and inflamed. Her skin was on fire, and she could not help but rub against him, seek the pleasure that she knew he could give her.

  Hugh spun them about, pushing her up against the side of the bath. He hoisted her higher on his hip, his cock teasing her core. She groaned, laying her head against the bath's tiled side as he worked her aching flesh to an inferno. "Yes, take me. I want you so much." Molly didn't care she was begging, or that he had so much power over her at present. All she cared about was that he would make love to her. Give her what she wanted and had not known she'd been missing all these years.

  "I can wait, Molly. We do not have to do this now. We can be married within a few days and then come together if you would prefer."

  "No." She shook her head, not wanting to wait that long. A time that seemed as far away as the moon. "I want you now. Please, give me what I want." You. She didn't say the word, but her mind chanted it like a drum.

  His clasp on her bottom tightened, and then she felt him, the hard, silky-smooth head of his manhood pressing against her core. He watched her as slowly, inch by delicious inch, he filled her. With the water's help and her need for him, Molly did not feel the stinging pain she expected. Surprisingly she did not feel anything but exquisite pleasure.

  Molly reached up, clasping Hugh's jaw and bringing him to her for a kiss. She gasped as he thrust the last inch of himself into her. Her body urged him to move, and then he did. He thrust into her, joining them forever, and Molly knew what it was to feel loved.

  His pumps were deep and constant. Each one hitting a special little place deep in her core. Need ran through her, hot and wild. She held on to him, pushing against him, taking everything he was giving. Her whole center shifted to where they joined, the need to reach whatever apex he was forcing her toward.

  "Fuck, you make me burn." His hot breath rasped against her neck. He nipped her skin before laving the bite with his tongue. A shiver rocked through her, and she sighed. "So tight. Mine."

  "So big," she retorted. He groaned, the sound a mixture of pleasure and pain. His hand closed over her breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple. A shot of awareness raced through her body, heightening her pleasure.

  "Come for me, my darling."

  His words whispered against her ear were her undoing. A feeling unlike one she'd ever experienced ricocheted from her sex and out to every part of her body. A delicious tremor of pleasure convulsed from her sex to the tips of her fingers. Molly screamed his name, but Hugh did not stop. His thrusts only heightened her pleasure, sending waves to convulse through her blood.

  "Hugh," she gasped, letting him take her, fuck her as he said and stoke the fire he had ignited in her soul.

  "Molly," he groaned, as he too found release, his seed rushing into her core as he followed her climax with his. Their breathing ragged, they stood locked together. She clasped him tight, holding him against her as she tried to calm her racing heart. Molly had never felt so satisfied in her life, so fulfilled and inflamed.

  "When can we marry?" she asked, kissing him as he regained his breath.

  He grinned, chuckling at her question. "Is tomorrow too soon?"

  She grinned back. "Tomorrow sounds perfect."

  Chapter 9

  Tomorrow wasn’t too soon. Molly stood beside Hugh in a quaint, Roman church just outside the city and took her vows to be his wife. Miss Sinclair and Marcus stood as their witnesses.

  Molly glanced up at Hugh, not believing that she would soon be his wife. A partner to a man who had made a successful life for himself away from England. Her husband. Which would mean Rome would be her home from this day forward. She did not care that he was not titled, or that her marrying him may limit her time with her friends back in England. They would be happy for her because she had found the man she loved.

  A man who loved her in return.

  Heat rushed onto her cheeks at the thought of their wedding night. Tonight, they could sleep together in the villa. Not apart like they had to when they had returned from the bathhouse only a day before.

  To imagine that time was only yesterday was beyond comprehension. It a matter of only a few hours they were uniting their two families. Had her skin not been holding her together, she was sure she would burst apart with excitement.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declared, smiling down at them.

  Hugh turned to her, the love shining back in his eyes, humbling her. He took her hand and kissed her gloved fingers, his intense, burning stare watching her as he bestowed the sweet gesture.

  She wore a ballgown that she had made for last year’s Season, a blue so light in the shade that at times it could almost appear white. Molly glanced at her new husband. The idea that she had traveled partway around the world and met a gentleman who made her body and mind not her own, and marry him was an idea so foreign to her she couldn’t believe it was real. She’d never acted so rashly and made a decision that would affect the rest of her life so quickly.

  Marcus and Miss Sinclair clapped at the celebration of their union, coming up to them before they signed the paperwork to officiate their day.

  “Are you happy, my darling wife?” Hugh asked her as he helped her into his carriage, shutting the door behind them and enclosing them in a space all for themselves, away from servants and her companion.

  “I’m so happy and a little dazed. I’ve never made such a huge decision like this before in my life and so quickly.”

  “You do not regret it, I hope.” A shadow of fear lurked in his eyes, and Molly closed the space between them, coming to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding him close.

  “I will never regret marrying you. I adore you. I hope you know that.”

  “I love you so very much, Molly.”

  His declaration sat between them, a knot that tied her to him for
ever, for she had fallen headlong and absolutely in love with the man in her arms. He was her equal, the man who made her a better person. He filled her life with adventure and laughter. She snuck a quick kiss, running her hands through his hair and pushing it away from his face so she could see his gorgeous visage better.

  “I love you too. You’re a gift that Rome has bestowed on me that I had not thought to receive.”

  His hands wrenched her higher on his lap, her bottom snug between his legs. He kissed her. Hard. Molly threw herself into the kiss, showing him how much she cared and loved the man in her arms.

  His tongue tangled with hers, sending a bolt of desire to her core. She ached for him, longed for his touch the moment they had parted ways the night before after their delightful bath together.

  Now she never had to leave his side if she did not choose to. She could kiss and touch, play, and have him whenever she wanted. The idea was an elixir that she could get used to, and quickly, she mused.

  His tongue tangled with hers, his hands slipping up her waist to clasp her breast. He wrenched the bodice down. Cool air kissed her breast before his hot, warm mouth brushed her skin. His lips worked her flesh, his tongue flicking out to tease her nipple. It beaded, and on a sigh, she closed her eyes, reveling in his touch.

  “I want you. I cannot wait.”

  “Me, either.” He lifted her off his lap, a feat had he not done it she would’ve thought impossible. She was a tall woman and with womanly curves, and yet, he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a piece of parchment.

  Molly only stood before him a moment before he had her straddle his hips. His hands fumbled with her gown, dragging it up to pool about her waist. Her wet core met with his hardened manhood, and she understood what he was about. Expectation thrummed through her veins. He reached between them, flicked his front falls open with little finesse. She shivered, need riding her hard, and then he was there. Pushing into her wet heat, his thick, firm manhood filling her to completion.