Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to soothe my hunger.”

  “You said your wrists hurt.”

  “All of me aches. Give me some relief.”

  “Once again, you fail to recognize who is in charge here.”

  He stomped his leg in the tub, deliberately splashing water all over Rosalind’s chemise. The wet undergarment plastered itself to her body, outlining every curve. Her nipples shone through like beacons. And he gravitated to them.

  “Stop right there,” she said, as she took a step back. She then removed the chemise. “You’ve splashed water all over the floor. It shall warp the wood. And before you say the servants can put in a new floor or someone equally ridiculous, I just wanted to let you know something…”

  “Yes?” he asked, with one raised brow.

  “I have a hunger for you, duke. And I do not want to be interrupted as I satisfy it.”

  She is magnificent. That was all he could think as she walked toward him naked. She knelt by the side of the tub. His fingers tried to touch her – had to touch her – but they were fastened too firmly.

  She reached out and touched his shoulder. Then slowly slid her fingers lightly downward over his chest on both sides. Exploring slowly and sensually. Then she paused.

  “I should clean the finger that was inside me,” she said. Then she put it into his mouth.

  He sucked her finger hungrily. He wanted to be at the heart of her doing this. He wanted to taste her, breathe her in. He wanted to cross every sexual boundary, knowing she would accept him. He wanted to escape with her to his country estate and stay there forever. He felt like he’d been waiting an eternity and deserved such happiness now.

  He looked into her eyes. Her pupils were wide, her lips open. This was affecting her as much as him. She drew her finger away from him, but just as it was about to slip out, he bit the tip hard enough to leave a mark. Her breasts came closer to him as she gasped. He pulled at his hands again.

  She withdrew her finger, then trailed it down his chest into the water, where she moved it around his stomach and onto his thighs. Everywhere but where he wanted her touch the most. It was torture and she delighted in making it so.

  He lifted his hips, trying to press his cock into her hand, but she deftly avoided it. He groaned anew, which only made her smile. Finally she put him out of his misery by placing her hand around him and squeezing. His head dropped back on a groan. She was squeezing him just hard enough to be felt, but not as hard as he wanted.

  “Harder,” he said. “Squeeze me harder.”

  “I think not,” she said. She continued on in this manner for a moment. Then her voice dropped to a whisper. “I would like to try something.”

  “Anything.”

  She stepped into the tub, facing him, her feet on either side of his body. His view was spectacular. Long legs leading up to the very heart of her. She remained there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do next. Then she carefully lowered herself to him, bringing the apex of her thighs closer to his mouth.

  He couldn’t breathe for the excitement of what she was allowing him to do. He feared she would stop. Then she did.

  “Is this all right?” she asked. “I very much enjoyed doing this to you, but I didn’t know…would you mind…”

  “Bring yourself to me now, love!” he growled. He was truly losing all control.

  That was apparently all the encouragement she needed, for she lowered herself all the way to his lips. The first swipe of his tongue made her lose the ability to stand. She quickly grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

  “Yes,” said Liam, his voice muffled against her. “That’s it love. Give yourself to me.”

  “It’s too much,”

  “We’ve only just started,” he said as he continued to lap away at her. It was incredibly frustrating because he wanted to pull her closer. He longed to bury his face in her. But without his hands…

  He broke first one of his bands and then the other. Before she knew what he was about, he’d pulled her against him and was feeding his ravenous hunger.

  She could only moan her approval. He felt her begin to quiver more and more, then she exploded. He pulled back just enough, but kept close so he could feel her. It was fortunate that he was holding onto her, because she surely would have fallen without him.

  Finally, when the contractions subsided, he brought her down to straddle him, her legs collapsing under her like a newborn colt. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and suckled savagely. She moaned as he used the other hand to make sure she was still wet for him.

  She was.

  He pulled her down, impaling her as she settled. They kissed each other as their bodies melted into each other. Water slashed all over the floor, but he kept her too preoccupied to notice. They were pounding into each other, the only way to feed the hunger which had overtaken both of them. They held each other tightly, as they made the climb together.

  She burst first, as the passion exploded out of her. He quickly followed, and in the moments between coming and calming himself, he wondered whether or not his seed would take hold in her. In his soon-to-be wife and duchess. In his Rosalind.

  She lay slumped against him, as their breathing returned to normal. He kissed the top of her head and lay there replete.

  “We splashed water all over the floor,” she said.

  “But it was worth it, was it not?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled, then gently dislodged her and got up from the tub to grab two towels the servants had left warming by the fire.

  “Up you go,” he said, as he helped her from the tub. Her legs buckled and he was quick to catch her. Good. She should be that worn out. Even he felt a little unsteady.

  He used the warm soft towel to dry every bit of her. Even when she tried to do it herself, he continued drying her. He wanted to protect her and make her safe and warm. She was his now.

  He wrapped her in the towel, then quickly dried himself. He threw his towel to the floor, then easily swept her up into his arms and carried her into his room where he deposited her on the settee before the fire. He picked up the dressing gown that had been laid on his bed by his valet. He handed it to her, then retrieved another one for himself.

  “We can eat in here,” he said. “It doesn’t make much sense for you to dress when I would just have to undress you as soon as we finished eating.”

  “You are being very ducal,” she said, as she snuggled into the fine silk.

  “Yes, I know. Do you have any objections?”

  “Not a one.”

  She was quite embarrassed when Heskiss came up later to serve them dinner. Once again, neither the unflappable butler nor the incorrigible duke seemed to think there was anything out of the ordinary with the situation. But Rosalind looked forward to marrying soon so she at least wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about that in the future, although she was certain Liam would find other ways to make her blush in front of the servants.

  That night, he proclaimed that they would be sleeping in his bed exclusively. It was so large it was possible they might never come within sight of each other. Except for the fact that once they’d made love, he’d pulled her into his arms with an unbreakable hold. Not that she’d tried to get him to let go.

  No, she decided as sleep finally descended upon her after several long and eventful days, she would be perfectly happy remaining like this, in his arms, pulled to his body, for the rest of her life.

  It was a wonderful thought.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When Rosalind awoke, she was cold. Not from a lack of covers. The feather bed still lay beneath her and the down comforter had been neatly tucked around her. There was no chance she’d expire from cold. But once she became aware of the lack of body heat around her back, she felt as icy as a polar explorer.

  She looked around blearily. She was tired and had no idea where her spectacles were. Then she heard voices in the duchess’s chambers. At first she
thought they might be servants tidying the room, which made her blush to think of the flooded mess they’d left behind the night before.

  She smiled when she spied her spectacles on the nightstand, resting on one of Liam’s handkerchiefs and sparkling clean. She put them on, then looked around, trying to see where her long-discarded dressing gown was. But this room was in worse shape than the duchess’s quarters. Pillows were strewn about the floor from where they’d experimented the night before. The sheets and blankets were in disarray, other than those that had been carefully tucked around her. There was no noise coming from Liam’s dressing chamber, so he was, presumably gone.

  She snorted. It was just like the man to leave without waking her. Yes, he’d cleaned her spectacles, but there was no note. For all she knew she might have dreamt the whole thing, if not for a certain soreness which she reveled in.

  The voices were louder. But they weren’t from servants, she realized with a start. They were….

  “It’s about time you awoke,” said Lizzie with a grin, as she entered the room followed by Jane, Vanessa and Melanie.

  Rosalind was mortified to be found in Liam’s bed wearing not a stitch of clothing. It would have been mortifying to be found there in any type of dress. Which reminded her. She glanced quickly at the headboard, relieved beyond belief that Liam had removed the silk ties before he’d gone.

  Lizzie tossed a dressing gown to her. “I am incredibly upset with you, you know. How could you run away? Why didn’t you come to me for help? Or any of us?”

  Rosalind pulled the gown around her. “I am so sorry, dearest. But I did not wish to place you in an awkward position. I would have sent word eventually. I am sorry you worried, especially in your condition.” Rosalind smiled, then suddenly realized she too could be in such a condition soon, if she wasn’t already.

  Jane, who was very much in that condition, lowered herself into a chair. “You were in a very difficult position, Rosalind. None of us blame you. We were just worried. And now we’re so very pleased to call you sister.”

  Rosalind looked at Lizzie. “Are you? Pleased, that is? I am not sure I will be a very good duchess.”

  Lizzie hugged her and soon both women were crying. “You cannot think I am anything but thrilled. We all are. Now let us ring for your bath because I am actually frightened to sit on that bed. It appears as if it were well used.” She shuddered. “I cannot think of my brother in such a way.”

  Rosalind laughed, then Mel rang for a bath to be sent up.

  “Jane, have you seen Inspector Stapleton? Is his wound healing?” Rosalind owed so much to the Inspector and felt terrible he’d been wounded helping her.

  “Joseph is doing well. You can imagine the pandemonium that occurred when he arrived just before tea yesterday with the news of what had happened at Fallmoor’s estate. We were so relieved that you were all right, but could not believe what you had gone through.”

  “Arthur and I stand ready to swear out a warrant for Fallmoor’s arrest,” said Vanessa. “My husband also wanted me to tell you there are unofficial ways of making the man pay for his crimes, as well. There are dark methods within the Home Office that I generally do not approve of, but would be very much in favor of in this instance. Only say the word and we shall set them in motion.”

  “I know we are barely acquainted,” said Mel, who’d gotten to know the Kellingtons while Rosalind had been kept in seclusion by her family. “But that Fallmoor fellow is a villain and deserves to be brought to justice. By any means necessary.”

  Rosalind looked at the women around her, ready to defend her at any cost. She knew she was gaining her soul’s mate in Liam. But she was also gaining sisters and brothers, as well. She was on the verge of crying when there was a knock at the door, which then opened to reveal Liam’s Aunt Prudence and her companion Miss Mariah.

  “Isn’t this a lovely morning!” said Aunt Prue, as she sailed into the room smiling. “But, Lizzie, I’m quite surprised, given your love of matchmaking, that there has not been more progress in moving things along. There is to be a wedding soon, yet the bride is still abed. Now don’t blush, Rosalind. You are exactly in the place you ought to be. We just need you to dress in your gown, so you can be married, so that nephew of mine can once again undress you and bring you back to this bed. No missishness, ladies. Let us get the beautiful Rosalind ready.”

  After that, there was a whirlwind of activities. Rosalind was bathed, her hair was washed and dried and a lovely wedding gown was laid out on the duchess’s always-to-be-unused bed.

  “It is beautiful, Lizzie,” said Rosalind, as she ran her fingers over the lilac silk.

  “Poor Madame had her girls working all night, but they were well compensated. I think she also liked the idea of gaining the new Duchess of Lynwood as her client. I believe I had your sizes correct and the design is, I hope, what you described when we talked about our dream gowns all those years ago.”

  “It is perfect.” Rosalind hugged her dear friend. “You saved me, Lizzie. Not just today, but for the years we spent as friends. You were my escape from home. The sister I never had. My greatest happiness of the past few years was from spending time with you.”

  Lizzie dabbed at her eyes as the two pulled apart. “You are the only sensible friend I ever had. You read books and had thoughts that went beyond gowns and balls and husbands. But, honestly, dearest. If you’d only told me you had a tendre for Liam, I would have done everything in my power to bring this day to pass much sooner. And when I think you were out there on your own and what might have happened to you… Thank God you are safe.”

  “Indeed,” said Vanessa. “The world can be a dangerous place for a woman alone.”

  “Fortunately, Mr. Mills was most kind to me.”

  “Yes,” said Jane with a twinkle in her eyes, “tell us about this Mr. Mills. Joseph told us Liam had scented a rival. Just the thought of Liam acting unsure of himself was hard to believe. And you must know your other brothers had a good laugh about it. I love Liam dearly, but, oh, how I would have wanted to see that for myself.”

  So Rosalind told them the story of Gabriel Mills and Tommy and Daisy and Olivia Morrison.

  “I like this Miss Morrison,” said Mel. “But how dreadful of that Lady Elling. The more I hear about the aristocracy, the less I want to mingle with them – excepting, of course, those in this room.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, dear,” said Aunt Prue. “And I shall be sure to tell Valencia Elling how pleased we all are to welcome Rosalind into the family. I may even throw that cat into a fountain if given the chance.”

  “I believe Liam is back,” said Mariah at the window looking down into the courtyard. “No doubt he shall be anxious to have the ceremony since he has the archbishop with him.”

  “The archbishop is marrying us?” asked Rosalind. “What if he learns I spent the night here?”

  “With what Liam probably paid him, I think that will not be an issue,” said Lizzie. “But let’s get you ready.”

  * * *

  A scant half hour later – which Liam later described as an eternity – the Duke of Lynwood finally married his Duchess in a ceremony witnessed by family and one close friend, Joseph Stapleton. Liam’s Aunt Agatha, the Countess of Crenshaw, arrived with only minutes to spare, with her long-suffering husband in tow. Ned and Jane’s daughter Violet was beside herself with joy because she’d been given the task of scattering hothouse rose petals. She did her job with enthusiasm, aided by her mouser Titania. Liam told Violet later that she should strike up a correspondence with Daisy, in which he envisioned the girls writing in great detail about their animals.

  After the ceremony, Aunt Agatha complained for three-quarters of an hour about the appalling lack of formality. She fervently believed that a Duke of Lynwood should be married in a cathedral in front of the very best portions of the ton. Then she began to complain about his choice of bride, but was immediately cut off from that course of conversation by her captive audience of
one: Hal. He made it very clear that not one word was to be spoken against the former Miss Carson. He did, however, suffer in silence while listening to the rest of her complaints. It wasn’t that Hal wanted to listen, but he’d drawn the lowest card from Arthur’s deck and been forced into it, when it was decided that it was better for one brother to suffer than everyone together.

  Hal might have been even more irritated to learn that Vanessa had her suspicions about how Hal had been the one to choose the lowest card. Arthur denied having rigged the deck, but did so with a crooked smile and one cocked eyebrow.

  Liam, contrary to his personal wishes, had asked Rosalind if she’d wanted her brother and mother to attend. But she had no desire to allow the two people who’d put so much effort into disregarding her wishes to attend such a joyous occasion. She wasn’t cutting them out of her life, but it would be quite some time before she would choose to be with them. And she would never trust them again.

  At the wedding breakfast, everyone ate and laughed, toasting the happy couple repeatedly. Even Aunt Agatha seemed to be having a good time. It was, she’d stated, a relief to have all of the Kellingtons finally wed, though it would be even nicer if it also meant the end of all scandals. Here she looked directly at Lizzie, who smiled brilliantly, then continued telling Aunt Prue her plans for her next treatise.

  Ned took another sip of champagne, then asked his older brother, “Where are you going on your wedding trip?”

  “Any place my duchess wants.”

  All eyes turned to Rosalind.

  “Oh. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “Well, do so now,” said Arthur. “Pick someplace expensive. Start spending some of Liam’s blunt.”

  “Don’t be vulgar, dear,” said Aunt Prue. “But, you know, Rosalind, he does have loads of it. Have you thought about Italy? Mariah and I especially enjoyed it.”

  “I am told the south of France was grand,” said Hal. “I remember little of the exteriors.”