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

by Gill, Tamara

  Hugh frowned, reaching for her. "I do not want you to go on your own. Why not stay here with me and we shall attend to our own festivity? Just the two of us?"

  Molly chuckled, a wicked idea coming to mind. She reached up to the clasps on his breeches, meeting Hugh's gaze as her fingers made light work of the buttons. A sinful glint entered Hugh's eyes, and he adjusted his seat to help assist her in pulling his breeches down.

  His manhood sprung free, fully erect and all hers. This close and in the daylight, she could study him much better, play, and learn. Molly ran a finger along a large vein that ran from the base of his penis to the head. A small droplet of moisture beaded on the top, and she ran her finger over it, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. It was smooth, just like his manhood itself. Never before had anything felt so soft. A velvety skin over hard steel. An amazing thing really when one thought about it, and she was both fascinated and tempted to learn more about what she could do with it now that it was hers to savor.

  Molly leaned forward and licked the tip of his penis. It was salty, dissimilar to anything she'd sampled before, but not disagreeable. Hugh's hands clamped the sides of his chair, grounding himself still. Molly cast him a swift look. His jaw clenched, a small muscle pulsated at his temple. Even so he did not attempt to stop her, or guide her in her journey.

  She leaned forward, this time licking the full length of him, from base to tip. His intake of breath spurred her on, and she suckled the tip of his manhood before taking him fully in her mouth. Her tongue rasped against his member, and Hugh pumped his hips, guiding her with his hands tangled in her hair how he liked it.

  Molly liked it too. Loved that she could tease him, love him in this way just as he'd similarly loved her. She had fallen quite in love with Hugh's kisses against her cunny and had wondered if it were possible for her to give the same pleasure in return.

  It would seem that it was so.

  "Yes, suck me like that," he gasped, pushing deep into her mouth. Molly reveled in the feel of his manhood in her mouth, hard and deep. She reached down, touching herself, aching for him to do the same, anything that would sate her need of him.

  "Oh, no, you do not," he said, pulling her off him.

  Before Molly knew what he was about, he'd stood, pushing her to lean against the chair he vacated. Cool morning air kissed the backs of her legs, and she glanced over her shoulder to see her shift lifted to reveal her bottom.

  Molly held on to the chair, expectation thrumming through her as Hugh positioned himself behind, and then he filled her. Thrust into her aching self and took her, hard and fast. Molly muffled her moans in the chair's cushion. Hugh took her rough and hard, everything that she wanted.

  "Oh, yes. Hugh," she moaned. He reached about her waist and teased her flesh, rubbing her with his fingers and taunting her until she did not know where she began, and he ended. It was too much. The pleasure, the need too strong. He would break her into a million pieces and she would never go back together again. She mumbled incoherently as he took her, his hard chest coming over her back, holding her close as thrust after thrust pumped into her core.

  And she was lost.

  * * *

  Hugh fucked Molly with a need that scared him. He could not get enough of his new wife, not just in this way but also in every way. To be near her was to be content, happy. He'd not felt that for a very long time.

  He held her as he pumped into her tight, wet heat. Damn it, she was perfect, reactive, and always surprising him with her needs and desires. He'd not come to her room this morning to receive such a gift, and he would not leave until she too had pleasure.

  The scent of flowers wafted from her hair. He breathed deep, knowing he would never get enough of her. She pushed back on him, taking her pleasure as much as he was giving, and he felt the tightening, the convulsing of her core about his cock. She screamed his name into the cushions. Hugh fucked her, let himself be pulled into climax by her spasming heat. He came hard, spilled his seed deep, and reveled in the satisfaction that came over him at having Molly in his life.

  Hell, he loved her. So much.

  Hugh disengaged, and pulling her shift down, picked her up and carried her to their bed. Not the easiest feat as he'd only removed his breeches from one leg in his haste to have her. He kicked off his pants and climbed into bed next to her, pulling her into the crook of his arm.

  "Are you happy?" He needed to know that she was. That their time together was nothing but a happy one for Molly. She was the most important person in his world now, and he would do everything to protect and love her as much as she deserved.

  "I'm so happy." She grinned up at him, snuggling down against his side, one arm thrown lazily over his stomach.

  Hugh closed his eyes and yawned, tired and satisfied.

  "Are you certain you cannot come to the ball with me tonight? I want to show off my new husband."

  Hugh would love to go, but he could not. Lord Brandon was recently in Rome from London, and he knew of his past. The accusations, no matter how false, would be revealed if he attended. Even using his mother's maiden name of Armstrong, Lord Brandon knew his face. Would out him to Molly.

  He needed to tell her the truth himself, just not yet. He wasn't ready for that conversation right now.

  If he could, he'd persuade Molly to stay home with him, enjoy more of their time together, such as they just did.

  "You could always not go and stay at home with me, as I suggested before."

  "But you said you had work to do. I would only be in your way, and in any case, I'm looking forward to seeing Lady Brandon. She will have news from home, and as much as I love being here with you, I do miss my friends."

  Hugh pushed back a lock of hair from Molly's face, marveling at her beauty. "I know you do, my love. You should go and enjoy yourself." He paused, pulling the bedding up over them more. "And I promise you the next ball that is to take place in Rome, I shall attend."

  She turned and kissed his chest, and a bolt of pleasure thrummed through his blood. His cocked twitched, ready and willing to go again. Having a wife had made him the most rakish being in Christendom.

  "Very well. I'm satisfied with those terms. I hope you shall miss me tonight?"

  Hugh rolled Molly onto her back, settling between her legs. His cock hard and primed to go again. Her eyes darkened with need, and she wiggled, placing him at her core. Desire licked at the base of his spine, and he pushed into her a little way, teasing them both.

  "Oh, I shall miss you, and when you return home, you will know how much."

  "Mmmm," she gasped, lifting her legs about his back and pulling him into her.

  Hugh bit back a groan. His wife was a hellion, and he loved every moment of it. "Are you after something, wife?" he teased, holding her and his need at bay.

  She pouted, squirming on him and making him see stars. "You know I am." Her words were breathless, an edge of annoyance to her tone. Hugh chuckled.

  "Tell me what you want." He needed to hear it from her. Hear her ask for him.

  "You," she gasped. "I want you."

  Hugh thrust into her, pleasure rocked through him, strong and hard, and he was lost. Lost in the arms of his wife. A place that he never wanted to venture from. Not today, or ever.

  Chapter 11

  The ball at Lord and Lady Brandon's was a crush. Molly arrived a little late after her husband came to their room to wish her a good evening, and they had ended up toppled onto the bed, enjoying each other instead.

  Molly came into the atrium of the villa, the introductions long past, and made her way over to her hosts for the evening. She dipped into a curtsy. Lady Brandon beamed at her arrival, pulling her into a quick embrace. "Molly, my dear. How wonderful to find you in Rome. When Ava said you had traveled here, I was so pleased. We must have you over for lunch when you're free."

  "I would like that very much." Lady Brandon took Molly's arm, turning her away from the party.

  "Let us take a turn about the room.
I feel there is so much to discuss. How has your holiday been so far? I understand you were to only stay a month, but you just returned from Naples, no? Has something changed in your circumstances to keep you here in my incredible home country?"

  Molly wondered if she should tell her friend of her marriage. She had not written to her family as yet and would hate for the news of her nuptials to reach them from someone else other than herself. She would ensure that tonight she would write the necessary letters. "I was to return and join the Duchess of Whitstone, and Countess Duncannon in London for the new Season. That, however, will no longer occur. I'm going to be staying in Rome for some time."

  "Why is that? Do you like the city so very much that you have decided to make it your permanent address?"

  Molly nodded, unable to hold back the smile at the thought of Hugh in her life.

  "I was married last month, my lady. It has been a whirlwind courtship, but one that I do not regret. I have found the man of my heart, and I shall make Rome my home since this is his home also."

  "Oh, my darling friend, I cannot believe it." Lady Brandon blushed a little, before taking two glasses of champagne from a passing servant. "Not that I do not believe that anyone should not wish to marry you, but that you have accepted him. I always thought you were settled as a spinster—a woman who enjoyed her independence. A point proven I believe by the fact that you're in Rome and only with a companion for company. How is Miss Sinclair? Still complaining about doing what she is paid to do?"

  Molly chuckled, sipping her fruity drink. "Not at all. I do believe my companion has fallen for a handsome servant of my husband. I think it is only a matter of time before they marry. I do not see her returning to England anytime soon."

  "Well, that is delightful news." Her ladyship beamed at her, her eyes bright and eager for news. "Tell me of the gentleman who has won your heart? Is he someone we would know? Is he a Roman man? We all know how very lovely they can be," she said with a wink. "It would not surprise me that one has captured your heart, my dear."

  All true, of course, but not in this case. "He's English, has lived abroad for several years now. Mr. Hugh Armstrong is his name. Have you heard of him?"

  Lady Brandon pulled back a little, the color draining from her cheeks.

  Molly reached out to her, taking her arm. "Are you well, Rose? You've become quite pale."

  Her ladyship shook herself a little before continuing. "Do you mean to tell me that Lord Hugh Armstrong, Lord Farley when he left England and is now the Duke of St. Albans, is your husband?"

  The name Farley bounced about in her mind. Molly shook her head, clearing it of the troublesome thought that she'd married a man who went by the same name as the gentleman who had ruined her cousin's life.

  "Pardon?" she said, unable to voice more words. There were hundreds of Farleys, and in Italy, surely. A common name that wasn't always linked with nobility. That Lady Brandon had jumped to the conclusion Hugh was the man who had ruined all her cousin's hopes and dreams, had left her heartbroken before she died was unfathomable.

  It could not be Hugh.

  "I do not think Mr. Armstrong is who you mean. I thought Lord Farley had traveled to Spain, not Rome."

  Lady Brandon glanced about them, checking that they were alone. "I may be mistaken, but did I not hear a rumor that your family has a distant association with the St. Albans? Your cousin, Miss Cox, was ruined by Lord Farley. Is that not correct?"

  Molly frowned, panic clawing at her chest. "How do you know that? No one knows of the connection. My family was very careful to keep others from being tainted by Laura's social demise."

  "Ah, well as to that. When I married Lord Brandon and returned to England with him from Italy, I hired a dressmaker. She happened to be the late Miss Cox's dressmaker, and I heard a time or two little tidbits of information. Your name was said along with Miss Cox's, and it wasn't hard to assume a blood connection. You do look very similar to Miss Cox. I was aware of her during her first Season."

  Molly nodded, swallowing as bile rose in her throat. If Lady Brandon knew of Laura and her connection to Molly, how many other people in London did also? Was that why she had never had any offers to her hand? Did they think her, too, fallen from grace?

  Heat rushed to her face, and she took a fortifying sip of her wine. Hugh could not be Lord Farley. And what was this about him being a duke?

  "You mentioned Lord Farley is now the Duke St. Albans. What has happened to his older brother?"

  Her ladyship pursed her lips, a displeased line to her mouth. "Racing his curricle and lost control of the vehicle. Killed both himself and his valet. Before we caught our ship to Rome, it was all London was talking of."

  Lord Farley could not be her husband. He could not. She would not believe such a thing. "Mr. Armstrong is not whom you speak of. I'm certain of it."

  "Armstrong was the surname of the late Duchess St. Albans. It was her maiden name. I think I'm correct in this, Molly. I think this is too much of a coincidence to be an error."

  Molly glanced about the room. She breathed deep, needing air. Her gown was too tight, her skin too heated. The room spun, and she clasped her ladyship for purchase. "May we go someplace else? I cannot think straight in this room."

  "Of course," Lady Brandon bustled her out of the atrium and into a nearby sitting room that was thankfully empty. "Mr. Armstrong, your husband, is who I believe him to be, is he not?"

  This could not be true. Hugh could not be the one and the same man whom she'd sworn to hate for all eternity. "I cannot believe it. It cannot be so."

  "But I think it is so, my dear. Miss Laura Cox was your cousin, was she not? I'm not wrong in that."

  "You are not wrong." Her answer came out but a whisper, and she could not believe the words. The life that she had hoped to live evaporated before her eyes. A little mocking voice taunted her that this is what happened when one married without knowing the other person for very long. That this was a sign that she was not meant for love or marriage. That she should have been content being alone and having herself for company.

  "Whatever will I do?"

  "Have you consummated the marriage? I know I should not ask such a personal question, but is there a chance of an annulment?" Lady Brandon asked, concern masking her voice.

  "There is no chance of an annulment. Most definitely not a route that I can take to fix what I have unwillingly done."

  Her ladyship sighed, reaching out to take her hand. "Then it would seem that you're the Duchess of St. Albans. Whatever will you do? Will you confront him with this?"

  "I will face him, yes. He has lied to me most cruelly." The idea that she would unwittingly marry the very man who ruined her cousin's life was unfathomable. Of all the people she thought she would meet abroad, he was not one of them. For years, the duke's younger brother had been rumored to be living in Spain, content to stay there and live off the family fortune. Had he been in Italy all this time instead? It would seem that he had.

  "I shall walk you to the door and have your carriage summoned if you wish."

  "Thank you, yes." Molly couldn't imagine what she was going to say to Hugh. How would she face him knowing who he really was? A stranger she did not know, not really. The forthcoming confrontation left a hollow feeling in her chest and dread to pool in her stomach. How did one leave a marriage? The idea was too awful to contemplate.

  Molly found Hugh in his tablinum upon her return to the villa. She shut the door and poured herself a well-needed brandy before seating herself across from him. His eyes followed her, hungry and burning with appreciation.

  Normally his heady intent would have her slipping onto his lap to let him do as he wished, but not tonight and possibly never again. The idea of not being with him, her Mr. Armstrong, her husband making love to her, and spending time and doing all the things they had planned made her want to scream at the universe.

  "Good evening, wife. How did you enjoy the ball? You did not stay overly long. Is everything well?"
>
  She downed her drink, slamming the crystal glass onto his desk. "I did not enjoy it at all, unfortunately."

  He sat back in his chair, and the heat that was banked in his eyes a moment before was replaced with unease. "Why is that? Did something happen?"

  Molly shook her head, the image of her cousin and her small child dead in their coffin rising up in her mind like a ghoul. How could he have treated them like that? As if they were not worthy of his name and protection. How could she have married the very man who had ruined her cousin's life and the lives of her relatives? They had been devastated by the death of their only daughter. To this day, her aunt’s wailing screams when Laura passed from this world would haunt her for the rest of her days.

  She bit back tears, schooling her features. "I'm curious, Hugh, just what I should call you. Mr. Armstrong, whom I married, Lord Farley after what I was told this evening, His Grace, the Duke of St. Albans? Perhaps Duke will suffice since we're on intimate terms."

  "Hugh will be just fine." His voice held an edge of steel, and she wanted to bend that metal rod, twist it, so it was no longer so rigid and unforgivable.

  "You're Lord Farley? Now the Duke of St. Albans. I do not understand."

  "I am now." He nodded, raising his brow. "You've heard of my family?"

  She scoffed, wishing she did not know of his family as well as she did, but that was never to be. The past had occurred, the horrors along with it, and there was no changing that. "Lord Hugh Farley fled England after he was accused of dallying with an heiress, getting a child onto her, and leaving her to face the ton's wrath. Alone."

  He didn't say anything, merely watched her in silence, and the urge to throw something at him, break his calm visage, overwhelmed her. Molly clasped the handles of the chair, forcing herself to not move.

  "Did you ruin Miss Laura Cox, Hugh?"

  "Who told you that I did? Lady Brandon? She is no reliable source, and I would not believe everything that she has to say."