“Her virginity. Her maidenhead. If she was in agony enough to scream, then it’s only because he didn’t prepare her properly.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “And how does a man prepare a woman? Is it possible to do so without going on to break anything?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Would you like me to show you?”
She pushed the blanket down, past her hips, then took his hand and placed it on the very top edge of her mound. “Please.”
He brushed his hand through her nest of curls and then nudged her thighs apart, pushing the blanket over her knees. She held her breath as his fingers ever so lightly feathered her moist folds, parting them to expose the tiny knot of flesh she felt pulsating within. She whimpered as he teased it with the pad of his thumb, gently stroking it in a delicate circular motion, sending spirals of tantalizing pleasure through her veins, heating her blood, making her hotter and more eager for the wonderful release she knew must come eventually. His touch was so light that the only pressure she felt was inside of her, swelling, throbbing, ready to burst any moment, if only…she didn’t know what. He was torturing her but not in the same way that Mr. Driscoll seemed to have tortured his wife. Kate knew there would be a reward for Nathan’s exquisite torment, if only…if only she could hang on for just one more flick of his fingertip, one more arch of her hips, one more whimper of delight.
And then it happened. Incredible heat exploded from her woman’s core, sending flames of ecstasy shooting and licking through every part of her body as she cried out, only vaguely aware that Nathan’s caresses were suddenly faster and harder, as if he hoped to sustain her climax for as long as possible. She had no idea how long the waves of heat kept shimmering through her. She only knew that, as much as she liked this, she wasn’t sure she could bear it anymore, and she finally grabbed his wrist to stop him as she panted for breath, her heart thundering.
He planted a kiss on her brow. “You’ve never had one before, have you?”
She stared wide-eyed into the dark. “Actually, I think I have.”
“Not really?”
“In my sleep. Every so often I’ll have a dream in which—oh, I don’t know, I’m naked and there’s a nameless, faceless man, but I don’t remember much beyond that except I always wake up just as I’m having a sensation quite like the one I just had.”
“Fascinating. I had no idea women had dreams like that, too.”
“What next?”
“How about this.” He slid his hand lower, and just like that, he slipped a finger inside her.
Kate gasped with pleasure, involuntarily clenching her most intimate muscles around Nathan’s finger as he thrust it in and out. She felt delightfully wanton as she writhed to his rhythm.
A moment later, he introduced a second finger and lowered his head over her breasts again, taking one of the hard nubs into his mouth.
Then, if that wasn’t enough, he starting teasing her again with his thumb, all the while pumping his first two fingers inside of her.
“More,” she whispered, as she felt another wave cresting deep within. “I want more. I want you, Nathan, all of you…ohh…” And the wave rolled over again, flooding her with incredible bliss. This time she pulled his hand away not because she couldn’t bear another stroke, but because she hungered for more, and not just to have his manhood inside of her. She wanted his heart and soul.
Could that mean she was in love with him?
But more importantly, had she finally found love?
“Not tonight, I’m afraid.” He kissed her tenderly on the brow. “We have several more days before we reach London.”
“And then?” She reached up to stroke his thick, silky hair.
“That depends on what happens in the meantime.” He rolled over next to her, emitting a long, weary sigh. “I have the strangest feeling you’ll sleep quite well tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean after what you just experienced, not once but twice, you should sleep quite—”
“No, I mean before that.” She sat up and pulled down the shirt. “What do you think will happen in the meantime?”
“With any luck, nothing, but all manner of unexpected things have been happening these past few days. Things that weren’t supposed to happen, meaning there could be more things that aren’t supposed to happen.”
Her heart twisted. He was probably worried that because of what just happened—which she had to admit really shouldn’t have happened—he would have to marry her.
He, a duke who could have his pick of brides—and no doubt still believed he should once he reached London—would certainly not wish to choose for his bride a plain, bespectacled spinster who’d traded places with a weepy chit he’d won in a card game.
That wasn’t supposed to happen, either.
He sighed again. “It’s late. Good night, Katherine.”
Kate longed to say that perhaps it was too late. And he was still calling her Katherine, which meant he still found her troublesome. She flopped back onto the pillow, pulling up the covers as she curled up beneath them. She turned on her side to face the wall as she fought back tears and struggled not to betray her anguish by emitting a telltale sniffle.
Perhaps she hadn’t found love, after all. Perhaps she’d been looking for it these past few days—only to be disappointed. Yet what she felt at this moment went beyond disappointment.
Only after his breathing became decidedly steady and even did she finally let the tears flow.
Chapter Fourteen
While the pain in his groin had subsided by morning, still Nathan woke up feeling no better than his half brother—which was to say he felt like a cur. A ne’er-do-well rogue who callously took advantage of innocent women, using them for his own pleasure before discarding them like the rubbish they would be in the eyes of Polite Society, if Polite Society ever found out.
As he threw back the covers and rose from the bed, he couldn’t help noticing her as she lay on her side facing away from him. The borrowed shirt was bunched up around her waist, baring her delightfully curved bottom for his delectation. How he longed to cup his hands over those smooth, exquisitely rounded cheeks! Likewise he fought the urge to run his fingers through her golden-brown hair, now spread all over her shoulders, back, and pillow like spilled honey.
But most of all, how he longed to take her into his arms and kiss her, apologize to her, beg her forgiveness, declare his love, and then bury himself inside of—
What the bloody hell was he thinking?
Declare his love?
Well, what the bloody hell had he been thinking last night, to blurt out that he might be the only man for her? He tried telling himself that he meant he was the only man who could keep her safe from Waldrop, but he could scarcely tell her that, and besides, it wasn’t what he meant, or at least it wasn’t all he’d meant. Bloody hell.
He had to get out of this room before she woke up. He didn’t want to see her eyes after what had happened last night. He didn’t want to know if they were red and swollen from crying.
He didn’t want to know if he’d broken her heart.
He didn’t want to see any confirmation that he was the veriest cad.
It was bad enough he’d just confirmed that he was a coward.
Only how could her heart be broken if she wasn’t in love with him? Or was she?
He knew that she wanted him. All of him. She’d said so last night. But could that mean she was falling in love with him? He wanted her just as much, but did that mean…?
He honestly didn’t know.
Not knowing what else to do, Nathan hastily washed up and dressed then fled downstairs to break his fast. Afterward, he ventured out of the inn. While leaden clouds sagged in the sky, at least it had stopped raining for the moment. He surveyed the village, already a bustling hive of activity, with men on horseback riding back and forth and a wagon full of grain sacks struggling to roll through the muddy ruts of the street.
/> Gently sloping hills surrounded the village, mostly blanketed with verdant meadowland and dappled with sheep. He wondered if he might have a chance to go hiking up one or two of those hills before the next stage arrived. He’d enjoyed yesterday’s walk from the last village, and not just because of the fresh air and exercise.
He spotted a tiny linen draper’s across the street and traversed the puddles and ruts as he ignored the stares. He knew he stood out because he was not only a stranger, but taller than most people.
As he entered the linen draper’s, a bell tinkled over his head. He wondered why he felt the need to hunch over in such a tiny shop, surrounded by dainties and fripperies, when the ceiling was quite high enough to accommodate his towering height. Two bonneted women, both appearing even younger than Katherine, stared at him from behind a barricade made up of bolts of cloth in various colors and patterns.
He approached a balding, bespectacled clerk who stood behind the counter. “I’m looking for a seamstress.”
“I believe you mean a tailor,” the man replied.
“No, I mean a seamstress,” Nathan said brusquely, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain why.
The clerk summoned an older woman from the back room. “May I help you, sir?” inquired the woman, who sounded very much as if what she really wanted was to help him find his way out of this shop.
He met her piercing gaze behind spectacles that reminded him of Katherine. “How quickly can you stitch something together?”
“That would depend on what you need stitched together.”
Nathan had this sudden, maddening urge to—to stammer. Bloody hell, it wasn’t as if he wanted to purchase something naughty. After all, what was naughty about a proper frock?
He fought another equally maddening urge to clear his throat. “A lady’s frock.” Damn it, he should have yielded to the urge, for his voice sounded rough. He cleared his wretched throat. “How quickly can you make up a lady’s frock? Just a simple frock suitable for travel.”
She eyed him askance. “I’ll need more information. For instance, what is the lady’s size?”
She had a point. After all, most of his own clothes had to be made to fit his unusually long torso and limbs. Still, he’d often thought that ladies’ current fashion of a high waist and long, flowing skirt meant that any given frock could probably fit within a range of several sizes.
This would be so simple if only he could say that Katherine was the same size as the seamstress. Unfortunately, the seamstress was short and stout, and Katherine was neither. He turned his head in hopes of surveying the two other customers, but they continued lurking behind the fortress of fabric.
Alas, what was simple when it came to women?
“She’s a little above medium height, past my shoulder,” he said, raising one hand, palm down, level with his chin. “And she’s quite slim.”
The seamstress shook her head. “No, I mean I shall need her measurements. Why can’t the lady in question come in herself?” He was about to open his mouth to reply when she hastily added, “And don’t tell me it’s a surprise for her. Quite aside from the fact she’ll never appreciate it, I won’t even believe you.”
Nathan heard the bell tinkling as another customer entered the shop, but he kept his eyes on the glowering seamstress. Sincerity was in order. “She can’t come out because she has no clothes.” Two gasps shot up behind him, but he didn’t even bother to turn, as they were surely maintaining their position behind the fabric bolts. “She lost her portmanteau on the stage to London, so we’re staying at the inn across the street until I can get more clothes for her.”
He heard heavy booted footsteps approaching—probably the local magistrate come to haul him away for trying to seduce an innocent last night—but he dared not take his eyes off the suspicious seamstress. “And just who is she?”
“My wife, of course.” Now he had a sudden, even more maddening urge to emit a sigh—and over what? Relief that he was able to say my wife without the slightest hesitation or wince? Behind him he heard an unmistakable whine of disappointment, either that he was already spoken for or there was no juicy, tasty on-dit to spread all over the village. “Who else do you think she’d be?”
The seamstress suddenly curtsied. “My lord.”
This was followed by a masculine voice that boomed, “Fraser!”
Now he turned to see who wore those boots. “Dalton?”
“So it is you! Only I’m Ellington now. Viscount Ellington. Long story.”
“Well, I’m Loring now. As in the Duke of Loring. Not a long story.” Certainly not as long as the one he’d left sleeping at the inn.
“And you have a wife now? What a coincidence! So do I. Any children yet? I have one.”
“No children.”
“Yet!” Trevor Dalton—or rather, Lord Ellington as he was now—slapped Nathan on the back. “I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I thought I saw you crossing the street just now, looking a bit dazed.”
A bit? Nathan was still feeling quite dazed.
“What brings you to Derbyshire? And why are you staying at the inn? We have plenty of room at Ellington Hall.”
“Well, there’s a bit of a problem,” Nathan replied. “You may have overheard that, uh, that my, uhh—”
“Your wife,” Trevor supplied. “I know, I had a bit of trouble with that myself for the first few weeks. How long have you been married?”
“As you may have heard just now, she’s missing her portmanteau with all her clothes, so she can’t really leave the inn yet. I’m afraid we missed a stage connection, with the portmanteau still aboard.”
“Why the devil are you traveling by stage? Why not post chaise, or even your own carriage?”
“Now that is a very long story,” Nathan answered. “Longer, I’m sure, than the one about how you came to be a viscount.”
Trevor led him out of the shop. “Susannah—that’s my wife—has some dresses she can’t wear anymore. They haven’t fit her since she had the baby. I can send them along with my carriage. We’d be delighted to have you and your duchess as our guests for as long as you like.”
Nathan glanced back at the shop, but the door remained firmly closed. The two lurking customers, however, now peered at him over an array of hats and drapery displayed in the window.
“There’s something I should probably tell you right away, Dalton—I mean Ellington.”
“That’s quite all right, Fraser—blast it, I mean Loring. Or do you wish to be addressed as Your Grace?”
“Just call me Nathan.” He lowered his voice. “The lady I’m with isn’t really my duchess.”
Trevor stared at him for a long moment before saying, “I don’t know if Susannah would be willing to receive a mistress.”
“She’s not my mistress, either,” Nathan hastily added. “She’s—well, as I said, it’s a very long story. You might say I won her in a card game.”
Trevor’s face darkened. “I might say? Either you did or you didn’t.”
“I did, but I didn’t want her. I was quite willing to forgive the debt, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted I take her, especially since her brother had already abandoned her at the appointed rendezvous in York. And then I found out she wasn’t the woman I’d won, but had only switched places with her as a lark. She’s really the stepdaughter of the Earl of Bellingham, who also may have wagered her at that same card game, but to one of the other players—and if so, I don’t think he’s willing to forgive Bellingham his debt.”
“I know Bellingham. Susannah happens to be friends with his stepdaughter, a Miss Baxter.”
“That’s the one. Katherine Baxter.”
“And who is this other sharp?”
“Lord Waldrop. I don’t know for certain if Bellingham wagered her to him. I only know he expressed the desire to do so, for I left the party shortly thereafter. Either way, I can’t in all good conscience let her go back to him. My plan is to take her to her brother in London, where he can better
protect her.”
“How do you plan to explain all of this to her brother? Who’s to say he won’t make you marry her? If you’ve been traveling with her all this time without a chaperone, then you realize she’s been compromised in the eyes of good society.”
Nathan tightened his jaw. “It was certainly never my intention to bring her along, let alone without a chaperone. Once I reached London, I thought to have my pick of brides. I surely don’t wish to acquire a bride this way, through accident and wagering and mistaken identity.”
Trevor grinned. “Sometimes that can be the best way to find a bride. A lot more sporting and exciting, I should think, than throwing yourself a ball where all the eligible ladies will be invited for your inspection. You want a fairy-tale bride, and to find her in a fairy-tale way.”
Like Cinderella, as Katherine had pointed out. Now it was Nathan’s turn to stare back for a long moment.
Trevor untied his mount and swung up into the saddle. “I’ll send some clothes to the inn for Miss Baxter, as well as the carriage, if you’d still like to stay with us. I think Susannah would be delighted to see her.”
After Nathan agreed, Trevor tipped his hat and galloped off.
Nathan returned to the inn and went straight upstairs, where he rapped on the door of their room. Briefly it occurred to him that he could always do what she did their first morning and fling the door open in hopes of seeing her lying nude on the bed.
But something told him he’d be disappointed.
Only why would he be disappointed not to see her that way?
Bloody hell. He wanted her. Nathan desired Katherine Baxter, who never would have been invited to the ball Aunt Verity was planning.
He rapped on the door again, wondering if she would even respond and let him back into the room…and into her heart.
To his relief, she finally opened the door, wearing the same blue-sprigged dress she wore yesterday, her tawny-brown hair pulled back into a proper bun. Yet she kept her gaze averted, as if she were too embarrassed after what happened last night to look him in the eye.
Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 17
