Son of a Duke

by Jessie Clever

  ~

  Holy God, she was kissing him.

  It was only the second time in her life that she had taken any of the courage that she had and put it into some sort of action. The first time had landed her in London with nothing but a suitcase and a will to find employment. She had been a young girl, completely unknowing in what she was about to embark on, and yet, the moment she had stepped off the train at King's Cross, she had felt nary a fear. She was concerned, and she was aware. She knew what she was doing would take confidence and determination. Those were two things she had had in spades when she was seventeen. But life had worn on her since then. Her confidence ran strong but only in select areas. Her determination was much the same. It tended to only push her when it came to her position and her son. She would be a good housekeeper, so she could provide for Samuel. And she would be a good mother, so Samuel could have a life she had never had the opportunity to even dream about.

  And now when her courage had propelled her into another unknown, it was not confidence and determination she felt. It was naked fear. She realized most of the fear came from an unworthy sense of history repeating itself. She had seen men treating women with respect in regards to relations. Lord Gregenden exhibited it to the oblivious Lady Gregenden nearly everyday. Even Hawkins doted on Cook with a flair he committed to nothing else, and they were not even wed. It was like something out of a Fielding novel.

  But flashes of her past licked at the back of her memory, and she pushed at it, willing the fear to ebb. She would grasp what was in her reach now, and she would see where her courage would take her.

  And besides, she liked it.

  At least she thought she liked it, liked kissing Nathan Black.

  She was concentrating so hard on not doing something ridiculous that she was not really sure what she was feeling. She knew she did not want him to stop, so that must mean that she liked what he was doing. But she kept her hands on his shoulders and her head at the angle he wanted it in and didn't move. She was good at not moving. Right now seemed like a time to do something at which she had some skill.

  But maybe he wanted her to move.

  She had in the past accidentally, and not accidentally, come upon people engaged in torrid embraces and most of the times the woman had been moving. The woman also had been making weird noises that Nora knew she would never know how to make nor would she probably want to make such noises. But what if Nathan wanted her to make those noises? What if Nathan wanted her to move in some way? What if she was doing everything wrong?

  And then she did freeze. And then she realized she froze. And then it was too late to unfreeze without Nathan noticing. And then Nathan was easing her back. The connection of their lips severed, making her shudder at the loss.

  She licked her lips and said the only thing that was going through her mind, "Please do not stop."

  She did not want to open her eyes, but Nathan did not say anything. She needed to see him. She needed to see what he was thinking or feeling. She needed to see if he smirked at her and her awkwardness. She let her eyelids flutter open, her chest rigid with her held breath.

  His eyes were open and clear, and he watched her with a gentleness she had never seen in the eyes of another before then. His face was relaxed, his expression contemplative. His hands had loosened their grip on her, and she realized she was holding herself in his lap, leaning into him with a carefree assurance she did not feel but apparently knew without conscious effort.

  "Have you ever been kissed before, Nora?"

  She had not expected him to speak, and as she had just begged him to keep kissing her as if she were some tart that had been cast from the enclave of Almack's, she found the question an odd one. She thought on the answer for but a second and mentally stopped her thoughts from proceeding. There had been an instance when she had been kissed, but it had not been of her choosing. She must have made some kind of move or gesture, because Nathan's hands suddenly tightened.

  "I beg your pardon," he said quickly then, and she watched the corners of his mouth turn down and his eyes crinkle in concern.

  She did not like seeing him thusly, and she blurted out the only thing she could think of to remove such an expression from his handsome face.

  "It is not your fault, Nathan," she said, an answer so obscure even she could not think of what she was removing him from blame.

  She rushed on as if a profusion of words would clear up the issue.

  "Something...happened once, and I...well, it was not..."she sounded like an idiot. "Nathan, it's-"

  "I know," he said, cutting off her words.

  Nora had been studying the knotting of his cravat, trying to find words that would convey what she needed to without having to say anything at all on the subject, but she looked up then and met his dark blue gaze. She felt herself pitch forward as if pulled into the comfort she saw there, but she had not moved a single muscle. Her breath slowed in her lungs, and her hands curled into the fabric of Nathan's coat. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but she did not need to. She knew what he meant even without asking, and she would not disrespect him by evading the truth in his words. She nodded then, just slightly, as if to encapsulate everything that was reeling through her mind.

  But it was all too much, and she suddenly could not, no, she would not keep it all in her head any longer. She wanted it banished. She wanted something good to rid it from the recesses of her consciousness.

  "Will you kiss me again, Nathan?" she said and was rewarded with a soft chuckle that vibrated against her stomach where their bodies came together as Nora continued to perch on his lap. His laugh was not malicious, or she would have already been on her feet, moving toward the door with every intent to throw him out. But his laugh had no such intent. If anything, it contained only self mockery, but for what, she did not know.

  "I do not believe it was I who started the last kiss, Miss Quinton, but I would be happy to start the next one."

  She blushed, the heat surging across her cheeks and down her neck, but she did not squirm or try to move away, because he was right. She had started the last kiss.

  "Yes, I believe that would do," she said, and he laughed again even as he leaned toward her.

  She tilted her head this time in anticipation of their lips meeting. This time her mind emptied of anything other then feel of his lips against hers, and she realized-

  She did in fact like Nathan Black's kiss.

  His lips were warm and soft, his mouth moving against hers with such demand she felt her entire body go slack in response. His hands held her tightly even as she thought she would surely melt in a puddle at his feet. She moved her own hands, sliding along the muscled contours of his shoulders to the nape of his neck, her fingers twining with the strands of hair that curled over his collar. She thought she heard him moan, but he deepened the kiss, and she forgot anything at all. His tongue traced a searing line around the edges of her lips, and she whimpered, wanting more, wanting everything from him. She splayed her hands along his shoulders and pulled him foward, hoping to convey what she was feeling without knowing how to do so. But he groaned again, and his mouth sank into hers, and she reveled in the feel of the power she had over him.

  Power.

  She held the power here. He moved with her every command. A simple tug on his shoulders, and he came to her, unleashing his desire exactly as she wished. If she straightened away from him, she knew he would stop. She did not want to try it for fear that the magic of the kiss would be broken, but somewhere in her, the knowledge of the thing drove her forward. She sat up straighter, coming up above him, so that she took control of the kiss. And she returned his demand with a will of her own. She felt him lean back in the chair, felt his hands release and slide to her hips, fisting in the folds of her skirt, no longer holding onto her but waiting as if bracing for what was to come. The power she felt in that moment raced through her, sending her confidence soaring to a place it had never been. Emboldened, she parted her lips, opening herself to
him-

  And then someone knocked on the door.

  Nora fell off his lap.

  Literally.

  She hit the floor with such a thump Nathan was sure it would send that irate butler Hawkins running to the rescue. He wanted to rip out his fingernails to distract himself from the ball of frustration burning in his gut. Looking at the door, he sent silent curses at whoever stood beyond it. Something had happened in the last few seconds of the kiss. Nathan had felt it, had felt how Nora had changed, felt the determination sweep over her. The fear had gone, swept away by whatever feeling of triumph Nora had suddenly embraced. He knew something....beautiful, something...powerful was about to happen when they had been interrupted. If only they had had but two seconds more, Nathan was sure he could have brought Nora to a place she had never been before.

  Nora fumbled with her skirts, attempting modesty when after the kiss they had just shared seemed ridiculous. But Nathan knew Nora did not feel that way. So he helped her. As much as it made that ball of frustration burn hotter, he helped her. They stood together, bumping against each other, before steadying.

  The knock came again.

  Nora looked at the door now, her eyes narrowed and her lips strained. Nathan could only imagine her own curses she was sending at the intruder. Then she flicked her hair behind her shoulder, strode over to the door and ripped it open.

  With one hand on her hip, one turning white on the door knob she had just ripped open, she demanded, "What?"

  A man that smelled so foul that tears formed in Nathan's eyes from the stench stood in the hallway. The man smashed a hat in his fists and swayed from foot to foot in uncertainty. A line of blood oozed from a crack in his lip.

  "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am. But they've taken 'im," the man said.

  "What, Michael?" Nora's hand had relaxed on the door, her other starting the slide down her hip.

  "Yer boy, miss. They've taken him."

  ~

  Nathan's hands were on her shoulders. She must have moved, but she had not moved. The room had moved. The passion of just moment's before was a long departed memory, and her skin flushed cold and clammy. Surely, she had heard Michael wrong.

  Samuel.

  Someone had taken Samuel?

  Her son?

  "What do you mean they have taken him?" she heard her voice ask in a faraway place.

  Michael smothered his hat with a fist. "Three of 'em. Big blokes. And a wee, little, nasty one. It was no fair fight, ma'am. Me and 'Enry, we tried, ma'am. But they 'ad a pistol, ye see, aimin' right at the lad. We didn't dare put up a fuss."

  Nora felt Nathan's body behind her, clear along the full length of her, keeping her upright. If he had done that only a few minutes ago, fear would have swamped her, but now she pushed back into him as if he were the only safe place in her world right then.

  "Which way did they go?" Nathan asked.

  "Dunna, sir. They pitched me and 'Enry into the stall and took off. The wee nasty one spit on us before running, though. Cheeky bastard. If I'da 'ad my feet under me-"

  "I am sure," Nathan cut him off. "Are you hurt?"

  Michael shook his head.

  "Eh, no, sir. Nothing but me pride's been bruised."

  Nora had not thought to ask such a question even though the signs of a brawl were evident in the split lip on Michael's face. Her mind was simply a blank page with a single word written across it.

  Samuel.

  Samuel was...gone?

  And then Nathan turned her around. Nora looked up automatically, tilting her head all the way back as their close proximity called for.

  "I am going to go out back with Michael and take a look around. See if I can find anything. I want you to pack whatever belongings you and Samuel own. I am taking you away from here. Do you understand?"

  Nora shook her head. She did not understand. Leave? She was to leave?

  She shook her head again. "I cannot Nathan. I'll lose my employ."

  "It is not safe for you here," he said.

  Nora took a step back, nearly colliding with the door. No, she could not leave. This place was her home, the only place that gave her refuge, and now her son was gone. Kidnapped. She could not leave. This was the only place that was safe. Nathan was wrong.

  "Nathan, I cannot leave. This is our-"

  The word home did not come out. Nathan approached her, his hands returning to her shoulders.

  "Nora, something has happened. I do not know what, but someone is after you. I had thought it was me because of what happened at the ball the other night, but now that they have taken your son, I have my doubts. You are vulnerable here. Please let me take you to a place where I can protect you."

  Nora had not been listening until something suddenly flashed across Nathan's face as he spoke those last words.

  Protect you.

  There was something there. A long ago pain that Nathan never let surface for she had not seen it until that moment. And unlike the power any words could have over her, the stark, scalding pain she saw in his eyes just then had her mind focusing sharply.

  Nathan was right. She could not stay there. They had taken Samuel from the stables of the house. They knew where she was. They would know where Samuel was when they got him back. When Nathan got him back.

  She had packed her bags at seventeen and left the only home she had never known without a backward glance. She would do that again if only to keep her son safe. She reached up, completely ignoring the fact that Michael still stood in the doorway watching them, and let her fingers slide along the plane of Nathan's cheek. The skin was rough with beard, but the feeling soothed her. He was solid and strong.

  "Please find my son, Nathan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Nathan let go of her shoulders and walked out the door, leaving Michael to scurry after him.

  Nora stood a whole minute, just standing, letting thoughts, feelings, emotions seep in, finally penetrating her numb body.

  Someone had taken Samuel. Nora's mind flashed to the little man at the window who had stood watching them. He was obviously looking for something, and when he had not found it, he had taken Samuel.

  But what was he looking for?

  And why take Samuel?

  If it was something that Nora had, why not take Nora? Would she not be the one to help them find whatever it was they sought? She was nothing but a housekeeper. What was it she had that these people wanted? A mere week ago her greatest concern were Hawkins' unfounded worries, and now her son was missing.

  And Nathan.

  Her hand went to her lips unknowingly, the memory of their kisses flashing through her mind like a sparking flame. Her body heated just from the memory of it, and she longed to have Nathan back. Back here in this room, in her arms, making her forget everything but she what felt between them. That moment when she had realized she was in control of what happened between them had supported her, propelled her forward when her weak courage would have given up, given in, and let her past swamp her with a fear that would keep her from ever having more in her life. More happiness, more joy, more laughter, just more.

  She turned a circle, looking at everything between the two small rooms. The two beds, the scattered deck of cards, the tiny stove, the ratty chair, and the scarred armoire that held her two other uniforms, an old dress for her days off, and Samuel's few trousers and shirts. The desk that she had spent long nights at, writing carefully so as not to upset its precarious stability. Her hairbrush and pins lay beside the cracked basin on the washstand. A small, dull mirror hung above it. And then Nora was back to the beds. That was it. That had been her entire life for over ten years.

  But that was not all that had been in the room when the little man had spied on them from the window.

  Nathan had been in the room then, and he must have been what the little man sought. Surely, Nathan could be wrong. Surely, Nathan could have been the intended target. And what he had seen was Nathan and her. They had been in an intimate embrace, which wo
uld then have led the man to believe that he could get to Nathan through Samuel. That must be it. But that would mean the man would have to assume that Nora meant so much to Nathan that kidnapping Samuel would get Nathan's attention. She was sure she did not mean that much. But that was not the point. The little man at the window knew nothing beyond what he saw. And what he saw was a couple in a situation that looked very much like they cared for one another.

  Did they care for one another?

  Nora recalled the look on Nathan's face as he had said he wanted to be able to protect her. Such a look did not come from a person who did not care, but what was it that had made him look so afraid? Nathan had never been anything but strong and resolute when he had been with her. What had made him so suddenly unsure?

  She laid her hand against her forehead. She did not have the energy to worry about such things. Her mind kept reeling back to Samuel, leaving her exhausted when she had much to do before she could leave.

  Her son had been kidnapped. By big blokes with guns. She should be filled with panic, brimming over with the stuff so that it made her shoes sticky. But she was not feeling panic. She was not feeling much of anything.

  Someone else was taking care of her now.

  And that someone else had very explicitly told her to pack.

  So she did.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nathan remained objective as he followed Michael to the stables. If he let the turbulence boiling inside him get out of control, he would be of no use to anyone. And Nora needed him right now. He could not let his emotions, past or present, sweep him up until he could no longer think on the current situation. If Samuel truly had been taken, their time was limited. They needed to do everything in their power to get him back quickly and safely.

  Nathan's hands itched with the memory of the softness of Nora's hair, her long slender back, what it felt like to grab a hold of her and pull her toward him. It had felt so natural, so real, so perfect. He did not know loving a person could come so easily. For love was what he was afraid he was beginning to feel. In a few stolen moments and one short week, he knew he was dangerously close to falling for Nora Quinton. That alone was a prospect he did not want to think on in general let alone now. He could not care for Nora as his wife on a War Office salary, and she deserved no less respect than that of an honest woman.