“And you’ll only be safe and sound if you remain with me. I can’t let you out of my sight until we reach London, and I can hand you over to the safety of your brother. Waldrop has followed you here—he and his stepmother obviously figured out you were traveling with me. All they had to do was make inquiries at inns and posting houses about a Nathan Fraser traveling with a bespectacled female, and ascertain from local gossip that the Duke of Loring and the stepdaughter of Lord Bellingham are visiting Ellington Hall. He means to lure you into his stepmother’s web. I won’t let that happen to you. Not after what happened to my mother.”
She visibly gulped. “So what are you saying—that I’ll have to spend the night with you in your bedchamber?”
He rose from the bench and closed the bedchamber door, locking it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow before he has a chance to come over here and call me out.”
She remained in the chair. “I don’t suppose you have an extra night rail in that chest of drawers?”
He gifted her with a crooked grin. “Have you forgotten? I sleep in nothing. But I can lend you one of my shirts again if you like.”
She gazed back at him, licking her lips as if in delectation. Seeing the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten the lips he longed to tease with his own sent a hot jolt of desire to his groin, and suddenly his silk breeches were feeling uncomfortably tight in the front.
“You know, Nathan, I never suspected any of this about him,” she said. “After you planted that facer on him and stormed out, I could have stayed behind to see if he was all right. After all, he’s the first man who’s ever asked for an introduction to me, the first one who ever wanted to dance with me, who wanted me to meet his mother—or stepmother, as it now turns out. In fact, most people would argue that perhaps I should’ve stayed behind instead of going after you.”
He unbuttoned his shirt. “Then why didn’t you? Why did you come after me, Kate?”
“Because I couldn’t wait to find out if you did it because you were jealous.”
He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of annoyance. “Why is that so important to you?” After all, he hadn’t been jealous at all—well, maybe just a little. He’d simply been more enraged to see who, of all people, was showering so much attention on her, of all people.
He wondered now if he wasn’t afraid of losing her—and not just to Waldrop.
“Why is it so important to me?” She rose from the chair. “Because I want—I just want to know if—if you want me.”
She’d been about to say that she wanted him. Because he was now a duke? No, because thanks to her stepfather, and in all likelihood her mother, she’d never considered herself worthy of a duke.
But she was worthy of Nathan. And it was up to him to show her.
He pulled off the shirt, enjoying the way her gaze dropped immediately from his face to his bare chest, and again she licked her lips as if salivating over a bountiful feast.
That’s when he knew how to answer her question. “I do want you, Kate.”
Again she stood frozen as he slowly reached out and gingerly removed her spectacles. He placed them on the bedside table then stepped back over to her. She hadn’t budged. She was waiting to see what he would do next.
He thought about removing her hairpins, just so he could see her honey-colored hair tumble over her shoulders, but he didn’t know where to begin pulling pins, and besides, he preferred to see her hair fall down after he saw her nude.
So instead he cupped his hands over the puffed sleeves of her gown and covered her mouth with his own. As his lips melded into hers and her tongue darted out again to meet his, just like that she thawed, for he felt her collapsing against him, pressing her palms against his chest for support before swirling her fingers around his nipples as he slyly tugged on her sleeves, baring her shoulders as he felt his erection straining to burst through the falls of his breeches.
He twined his arms around her back in search of the buttons as he moved his lips past her jawline, over the racing pulse in her throat, and down to her collarbone. Her own hands moved lower, now fumbling with the waistband of his breeches while his fingers worked the buttons down the back of her gown.
She sighed as the gown gave way and he pulled back just far enough to let it drop and pool around her feet. He didn’t want to bother with the tiny buttons of her shift, so instead he seized it by the hem and pulled it over her head, disheveling her hair and baring her pointed breasts with their large, pink nipples. Next came her drawers, leaving her clad in nothing but slippers, stockings, and garters.
“Sit on the chaise,” he whispered.
She complied, draping herself over it in a most seductive manner, lifting both hands behind her head to remove her hairpins, allowing him an unimpeded view of her breasts. Still, she visibly trembled all over, and goose bumps prickled her skin as Nathan stroked his large hands over her, warming her, arousing her, exploring the shape of her breasts as she closed her eyes and kept her arms over her head as she continued to pluck at her hair, now slowly coming loose from its tight bun. She used both feet to kick off her slippers then languorously stretched out her legs. Nathan untied the garters and peeled her stockings over her knees, down her calves, and off her feet. Once they were removed, she bent one leg and kept the other straight, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of the dark curls between them. Her hands still over her head, her eyes still closed, she raked her fingers through her honeyed tresses, smoothing them out, letting them spill over the back of the chaise as Nathan finally tore open his breeches and let his arousal spring free, eager to mount her and make her his.
He sat on the edge of the chaise and bent forward to kiss her again, tasting her sweetness as she hummed and let her tongue tangle with his till she was gasping for breath, and then he scattered more kisses down her throat and chest to her breasts, closing in on their plump, pink tips. He laved each of them with his tongue while she whimpered, and then she moaned as he took one into his mouth, devouring her as he slid one hand between her thighs, exploring all the slick folds and creases until he found the swollen bud within. With a single flick of his fingertip she moaned, arching her back as her legs fell wide open.
He lifted his head from her breasts to survey her in all her naked, wanton glory as he gently massaged her sweetest spot, watching as she writhed and gasped little breaths, gripping the back of the chaise as she gradually stiffened all over, and he knew it was because she was concentrating all her senses, all her thoughts on the pleasure he was giving to her hot, wet center.
“My God, Kate, but you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Do you feel it? Do you feel how very beautiful you are? Open your eyes and see how beautiful you are. Open them, Kate, or I’ll stop.”
“Oh, no!” She opened them wide, staring straight ahead of her. “Oh my God!”
* * * *
Kate could scarcely believe her eyes. Directly in front of her was a full-length mirror, reflecting her nude image. She squinted, almost wishing she had her spectacles so she could see more clearly, but what she saw was enough—her golden-brown hair disheveled and tumbling everywhere, the tips of her breasts rosy and pointed from Nathan’s feasting, her legs spread far apart, her throbbing womanhood all but obscured by his teasing fingers that continued to send her swirling through flames of ecstasy that burned higher and hotter, spreading rapidly from her very core to her every nerve ending. She moaned in rapture, and then he stifled her with his mouth, his lips covering hers as if to claim her mouth for his own and for all time. Waves of pleasure drenched the fire within her as she threw arms around him.
Nathan slid one arm behind her neck and under her head as he continued kissing her, commanding her mouth with his forceful tongue as the fingers of his other hand slid inside her, pushing in and out repeatedly, rapidly, while she felt for his member and finally found it, grasping its hard, thick length. She stroked it up and down as if doing so was the most natural thing in the world, till finally he
withdrew his fingers and broke the kiss then, without any warning, scooped her up into his arms.
Kate cried out in astonishment as she instinctively looped her arms around his neck. She hadn’t been picked up since she was an infant and of course had utterly no memory of it. Nathan stood with her in his arms for one moment as he kissed her again, as if to remind her that she was now his.
His lips left hers, and he gazed deeply into her wide eyes, his own storming with a desire that made her shiver inside, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something—a declaration, perhaps, that he loved her? Kate felt her own heart swelling and thundering as she gifted him with a trembling smile. Finally, he smiled back and without a word carried her to the bed, carefully laying her down on the counterpane.
She swept her gaze over his huge, muscular body, admiring the hard ridges and planes of his chest, lightly dusted with dark hair, the thick, corded muscles in his arms, the even thicker, firm thighs, and between them, jutting out toward her, as big and as hard as the rest of him, his manhood.
Aching for more of him, all of him, she opened her legs as he knelt over her and between them, propping himself on his hands as he continued gazing intently into her eyes. Then, with one swift stroke, he plunged himself inside of her.
Surprise seized her. Surprise that she barely felt a twinge when he entered her. Surprise that something that huge slid so easily into her narrow virgin passage. Surprise that when he closed his eyes and moaned, as if to savor the feel of her all around him, it could only mean that now she was giving him pleasure.
He slowly pulled out almost all the way and then pushed into her again. This time she felt no twinge, only the fiery bliss of being so intimately joined with him. He repeated the movement, and she involuntarily arched her hips, reaching up to grasp his biceps, unable to squeeze them because they were so firm. He lowered himself to his elbows, his face above hers, closer now, his eyes dark and his expression intense as he continued thrusting inside her with a steady rhythm as she just as rhythmically writhed beneath him, whimpering with every rock of his hips against hers.
She longed to tell him that she loved him, yet she could barely gasp more than his name between his repeated, deep thrusts.
And then he suddenly paused. “Ah, my bonny Kate, you’re too much for me,” he whispered, his Scottish burr overpowering his English accent as, with a heavy sigh, he slowly, almost reluctantly withdrew from her and rolled over next to her.
Kate couldn’t help feeling that she was missing something, or maybe he was missing something, or perhaps something was just plain missing. But what?
He rested a large hand over her smaller one. “Now it’s your turn.”
Bewilderment drifted over her as she stared up at the tester for a long moment. “My turn to do what?”
“To pleasure me the way I pleasured you at the beginning.” He placed her trembling hand around his throbbing shaft, now slick from her own wetness. “Just do with it what you did before I lifted you from the chaise.”
Kate slowly sat up and firmly stroked him up and down. She had no idea that this was how the act was performed. Had he spilled his seed inside of her already? Still, this might explain why “her turn” came at the beginning, while “his turn” came at the end. Her turn was all about arousing her in preparation to receive him. His turn was all about subduing him back to whatever constituted “normal” for a man. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw as she continued stroking him, firmer and faster, and then came a new surprise when he stiffened and grunted as something pale and sticky shot out of him, all over his belly.
“What is that?” she cried.
He opened his eyes to survey her as a lazy smile suffused his handsome face. “You don’t know what that is?”
“As I hope you know, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
He chuckled. “Surely you don’t have to see it to know what it is.”
“Well, if it isn’t—then it must be—is this”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“your seed?”
“’Tis indeed,” he said cheerfully. “Perhaps you could bring me a towel from the washstand?”
For a moment Kate was almost too stunned to move. Finally, she rose from the bed, stepping silently past that sinful chaise with the sinfully positioned full-length mirror in front of it, and to the corner where the washstand was.
She stared down into the washbowl, as if she might divine a message from its bottom, a message that might explain why he hadn’t spilled his seed inside of her.
The obvious explanation was that he didn’t want to get her with child. The very thought of a child growing inside of her nearly took her breath away.
She was now at an age where she’d given up all hope of ever conceiving a child. Until this week, she’d even given up hope of ever being touched and pleasured by a man. Her mother had hinted that if she took the governess position with Mr. Throckmorton, he might in time decide to marry her, but it would likely be a marriage of convenience only, for he already had a half dozen children and Kate would not have to be bothered with what her mother called the intimacies of the marriage bed, and the subsequent pain of childbearing. Mother, in fact, seemed to think that Kate was entering a situation more ideal than any she’d ever read about in romantic novels or fairy tales. As if women would kill to become governesses and then wives of convenience to widowers with a ready-made passel of children! Why, even Nathan had mentioned earlier that Kate had committed a most noble act in trading places with Margaret Hathaway.
Until this moment, Kate had believed she’d bravely, if brazenly, taken control of her life back in York and put herself in a situation that was not only better than governess and putative bride to Mr. Throckmorton, but far transcended those romantic novels and fairy tales. For with everything she’d done, from the moment she’d traded places with Meg to the moment she gave herself, body and soul, to Nathan, for once in her life she felt as if she’d been mistress of her own destiny.
And now, she had the sudden, disconcerting thought that with the spilling of his seed all over himself, Nathan had just usurped her position and made himself master of that same destiny, steering it in a direction she did not want to go.
She dampened a towel and returned to the bed where he still lay sprawled, one arm covering his eyes as if he didn’t want her to read what was in them. His member had softened and shrunk somewhat. She gently daubed the towel over his abdomen and chest.
She decided there was only one way to approach this, and that was the direct way. “I assume you didn’t want to get me with child.”
He didn’t respond. Was he asleep already? She considered dunking the towel back into the washbowl then wringing it out over his head. Or even just dumping the entire washbowl over him.
“Nathan?” She lifted his arm from his face, and he gazed up at her with fathomless, blue-gray eyes.
His reply was just as direct. “But of course. You don’t want a wee bairn, do you?”
“Someday I do. But you don’t want to marry me, is that it?”
“I suppose you expect it after what just happened.” He said it more as a statement than a question. Still, his attitude disturbed her. She had the distinct impression he didn’t want to get married—at least not to her.
And all because they hadn’t met at a ball. The chits he’d been chatting with downstairs stood a better of chance of becoming his duchess.
Then why did he do what he just did? She was starting to fear he’d possessed her simply to make her undesirable—as if she’d ever been desirable to any man to begin with—to Lord Waldrop.
She padded back over to the washstand, where she took another towel and set about cleaning herself. “As a matter of fact, I don’t expect it. Certainly not from His Grace the Duke of Loring.” For the duke still retained the privilege of having any woman he wanted and marrying any woman he pleased. For that matter, as a duke, he could marry any woman he chose and still have any woman he pleased. Nathan apparently saw no n
eed to do right by Kate, especially since he’d made certain not to plant his seed in her.
All he said was, “I see.”
She staggered about the room, searching for her clothes that he’d flung all over the floor. She hastily donned her shift and stepped into her drawers before picking up the beautiful, green gown she’d borrowed from Susannah for this evening.
“What are you doing?” Nathan asked from the bed.
She refused to even glance his way, for fear he might see the anguish swimming in her eyes. She felt ready to drown in it. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting dressed.”
“You’re not going back down to the—”
“Of course not. I’m returning to my own bedchamber.”
As she struggled with the buttons on the back of the gown, from the corner of her eye she glimpsed him sitting up. “Kate, you can’t leave here. What about Waldrop?”
“He doesn’t know where my bedchamber is, and besides, he’s probably left already.”
“Kate, I don’t want you out of my sight.”
“I’ll be fine,” she bit out as she picked up her slippers. “I’m the one who’s responsible for whatever coil I might be in.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Her voice caught and nearly broke, and she realized to her horror that she was about to cry. She had to get out of this room before that happened. She couldn’t let him know that he was breaking her heart. “Am I not the one who insisted you take me with you to London? You didn’t have to, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I did. You could have been in danger—just as you’re in danger now—and as you know by now, I would never abandon you or anyone else to the perils of an unknown fate.”
Anyone else. It wasn’t because of his feelings for her that he’d agreed to take her to London—after all, they’d just met, so how could he have had any feelings for her already? No, there was that principle peculiar to Nathan, rooted in his childhood, that dictated he could never leave anyone behind if he suspected for one moment they might encounter adversity otherwise.
Lingefelt, Karen - Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 22
