The Forbidden Duchess

by Lisa Torquay

  “No. My bastard.” She devolved. It wouldn’t be legitimate to be his heir.

  “My heir.” He repeated firmly.

  “My bastard.” She insisted. They weren’t married!

  “My heir, even if I have to carry you to the church tied and gagged!”

  “I’ll shake my head, saying no!” She stated doggedly.

  He snaked his arm around her still slim waist. Their eyes merged and dived in each other for a long time. “Indomitable witch!”

  “Despotic devil!” She devolved, offering her lips up for him to kiss.

  When he kissed her, they forgot all about their disagreement. The kiss was lust, longing, sorrow, fire, touch. He gathered her closer, deepened the caress and she matched him in every single manner. They clung to each other until they had to come up for air. He released her kneeling before her, taking her hand.

  “Lady Selene Rockfield, please give me the honour of becoming my wife.”

  She looked down at him, a solemn expression in his clove eyes turned up to her. Her throat tightened, her tears ill hidden. She had no more strength to refuse him. Not now that she’d realised she loved him. She was all wrong for him, in every possible way. How could she resist? She craved him body and heart. He’d proposed so many times. He might stop doing that. What a shame it would be to refuse since she felt what she felt for him. Now, she had to think about her child, too. Who knows she could love him and find happiness in that, even if he didn’t love her.

  She nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He smiled. Oh dear, he smiled. Her heart melted. That big man knelt before her, smiling. This had to be the happiest moment of her life. Still kneeling, he embraced her by her waist and dived his face in her abdomen, cherishing the life that grew there. She held his head, merging her fingers in his sleek dark hair.

  She reached for his hand; he stood up. She took him to her bedroom. In bed, they undressed each other; naked, they embraced, their whole bodies touching, her hands hovered over his strong big frame, sensing his smell, his warmth. She cradled him between her bent knees, revelling in him.

  He lifted his head and looked at her, lit by the fire in the fireplace. “I am all muddy and sweat from the journey.” He excused himself.

  “The smell of you turns me on.” She admitted a tad shyly.

  “Is that so?” He asked smug, as his hand voyaged from her waist to her breast, temptingly. “Hm, it’s bigger, more delicious.” Holding it, he took it in his mouth.

  The pleasure felt so agonisingly melting she contorted in delight. “It’s more sensitive, too.”

  “It’ll take less to seduce you then.” Naughty, he did it again.

  “As if you had a hard time.” She breathed a laugh. “Oh!” She moaned with his touch.

  Her reaction seemed to fuel him. They stared at each other, enthralled. “God, Selene, I need you now!”

  In response, she opened more for him, arching when he joined their bodies.

  A long time afterwards, Selene remembered to tell him about her half-brother.

  “I am not surprised.” His hand hovered over her back, as she lay on his chest.

  “With this I’m even more unsuitable for you.” She caressed his shoulder, feeling the ripples of muscle. “A brother with unpaid debts.”

  “No, you aren’t.” His tone vehement. “You are and will be a Rockfield.”

  “Never mind this is another scandal.” She said stoically.

  “I don’t care about what others think. They’ll get used to us.” Finality in this.

  “In my half-mourning?” She lifted her head eyeing him under her lashes.

  “Well, yes!” He didn’t blink. “It’s this or you marrying me far gone with my heir.”

  “We don’t know it’s a boy!”

  “I don’t care. It’s my blood and will be legitimate.”

  “People will suspect, naturally.”

  “Let them.” He shrugged. “There were other widows remarrying in less than a year after their husband’s death.”

  This about mourning period wasn’t a law. A costume, it could be flexible, according to circumstances. Gossip ran its course and after that, those remarried widows resumed normal life.

  “Anyway, we’ll live in the manor until the child is born. This will give time for the ton to get used to it and exhaust the comments and gossips.”

  “Sounds sensible.” She rested her head on his chest again.

  In a matter of seconds they fell asleep, sated and peaceful.

  Philip woke up with the sun rays coming through the curtains. Both spooned in bed. A child. She’d give him a child. He felt elated. The woman he loved and now, a family. He knew he’d come here to open his heart and tell her about his feelings. Discovering her pregnant came as a mind-blowing surprise. Seeing her and knowing that made him forget everything else. She accepted his proposal, moreover. His life would be complete. He held her tighter. As they agreed to marry, he felt a little reticent to talk about his feelings. She might be scared, if she didn’t love him back. He preferred to wait until after the wedding. Then she’d be secured in his hold. He’d never confess these possessive thoughts to her. She could change her mind, he thought carefully.

  Her hair all over her pillow, her breath still even. His moon goddess made him feel at home. With her his life would be bliss. With her and their child. He’d never thought this woman would bring him so much happiness. To think of how they met, the unconventionality of their situation. The time he’d waited to be able to put things right, his impatience always on the verge of bursting. Soon, soon they’d be home and married.

  Suddenly, Selene awoke, tamping her mouth, darted to the dressing room, closing the door. Philip heard her retching. He fled the bed and went to her, not minding his own nakedness.

  “Selene.” He knocked on the door. “Selene!” He insisted when she didn’t open it.

  “Stay there.” She said uneven.

  “Let me in. Let me help you!” He tried to open the door. She held it.

  “You can’t help.” More retches.

  He became very concerned. About to force his entrance, she came out. She had dressed a chemise and had a cloth in her hand.

  “What was that?” He looked at her brows pleated.

  “Sickness. Nell said it’s because of the child.” She walked back to bed and sat down.

  “Nell?” He sat on the bed in his magnificent nakedness. “You haven’t seen the doctor?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t want to…publicize my condition.” She looked at him gloriously naked, turning away blushing. “I know very little about these things, as you may agree. Nell has more knowledge of it, since she helped other women in her village.”

  “I see.” He said pensively. “What were you going to do, if I hadn’t arrived? Hide this from me?”

  Her eyes darted to him. “No! Of course not. “I’d write to you eventually.”

  “Eventually?” He got fast angry. “In a month? A year? Five years?”

  “I had to get used to the situation!” She rebated. “I am this sick every day.”

  “So you need a doctor!” He neared her and took her in his arms.

  “No, I don’t. Nell says it’s normal in the first couple of months.”

  “Nell is not a doctor!” He made her sit on his lap, holding her.

  “But she has practical knowledge.” She snuggled in him. “I trust her.” She sighed at the comfort.

  To think that if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have known of it. What if he’d got married, God forbid, and came to know of it after he could not do anything? Goodness!

  “It might have been too late, when you decided to tell me.”

  “How so?” She played with his chest hair.

  “What if I followed you ‘exhortation’ and found a lady of breed.” His voice mimicked hers.

  “I’d have coped.” She kissed his chest; he held his breath. “That’s what you should have done, anyway.”

&n
bsp; “No. It is not.” His lips caressed her hair, ready to declare his feelings for her. “Lord Pendleton invited me to dinner, by the way.”

  She lifted her head to him, breathing a knowing smile. “No waste of time there!”

  “No.” He agreed. “The idea of marrying Lady bloody Emily churned my stomach!”

  Her fingers sought his manhood. “What are you doing, woman?” He groaned his pleasure.

  “Is your stomach churning now?” She asked naughty, as he grew in her fingers.

  “Damn, no!” He closed his eyes, ragged breath. “We cannot. You’re unwell.” He murmured rough.

  She put one of his hands on her pebbled breast. “Do I seem unwell?”

  “Not at all.” He placed her on the mattress again. “You’re going to finish me off before the wedding!” He pinned her with his body.

  “Poor exploited man!” And then they were kissing as passion ignited like fire on hay.

  Chapter 19

  Philip stood tall and straight in the manor’s chapel, waiting for his bride. As soon as they’d arrived in Brighton, he procured a special license for the wedding. The carriage trip from Gloucestershire to Brighton had taken three rainy days, with delays caused by muddy tracks, as he’d decided to travel few hours a day not to overtax Selene. Not that she’d not protested, saying she was pregnant, not sick. Philip preferred not to risk, though. Actually, she’d been sick several times during the trip, which made him ache with her discomfort. She’d acted stoically, saying it’d be over in a couple of weeks. He’d look at her and love her even more, if possible. He also had his personal doctor examine her, his diagnostic very similar to Nell’s, to Philip’s relief.

  So he stood there, formally dressed in what felt like the happiest day of his life. The classic style church filled with the manor’s staff, as the bride and groom didn’t have time or desire for much publicity. His gaze ran off through the opened stained glass windows, a perfect spring day, scattered with flowers in the sun, perfumed air and greenery all over. Suddenly, the church door opened, his stare darted to it, freezing, as the most beautiful bride stepped in, dressing a gauzy rose dress, roses in her hair and in her hands. She looked like a fairy coming straight from the scented woods. He couldn’t stop staring at her. She lifted her eyes and their gazes locked, transmitting a silent communication only they understood. Philip almost went on his knees, so elated she made him feel.

  She neared him, he took her hand and they turned to the reverend, respectfully. The reverend himself couldn’t be sure if this wedding might be legal enough to take place, given the family connections between them. Philip argued, though, that they weren’t related by blood, so the clergyman had to acquiesce. Still, he thought it rather scandalous and didn’t think society would accept it, even if Philip held a dukedom. He’d keep eyes and ears open, to know better what to do in an eventual future similarity.

  Eyes merged in each other, they said their vows with such solemn sincerity, their feelings for each other became obvious to whoever watched close. The ceremony over, they went to the open air celebration washed with ale and roast meet. Music and dance sprang and Philip danced several times with his bride, as they’d wished to do during the season in London. Selene seemed to be faring well and enjoyed most of the party. Next day the London papers printed the non-official news of the nuptials, making the Pendletons and the Cunninghams rather frustrated in their endeavours. This would set the gossipmongers’ tongues to go wagging incessantly. Philip thought it rather funny that two people could cause such a commotion, when there were so many more serious issues to be discussed, like the ones in Parliament.

  Selene entered the manor still flushed form the dance. She’d felt a little sick in the morning, but remained well throughout the day, thankfully. She had this intense happiness coursing through her since the moment her eyes met his in the church. It seemed her very soul had joined with his. She’d walked in the clouds all day, so raptured, she could hardly believe it to be true. Nevertheless, here she was, looking at him pacing towards her, eyes on hers, overflowing with passion.

  Without saying a word, he picked her up and climbed the stairs to the master chamber, already prepared for them. He placed her gently on the huge bed, sitting by her side.

  “Happy?” He drawled in his deep silky voice.

  Absorbed in him, she just nodded, inviting him with her eyes. Never taking his clove stare from hers, he undressed his jacket, undid his tie and bared his chest, under her attentive scrutiny. They’d dismissed Thomas and Nell, as they wanted to be alone in their wedding night. Not that they hadn’t been alone since they arrived, anyway. Today had to be especial, though.

  He inclined over her as her body arched to receive his. “You?” She asked faintly.

  “Cannot complain.” He jested, lips almost touching hers, their eyes meshed.

  “Oh?” She breathed. She parted her lips eager for his, her hands going up his muscled arms, to merge in his sleek dark hair and pull him to her.

  “What a hungry bride I have here.” He murmured before their mouths sought each other with intensity.

  She snaked one leg around his, eliciting a moan from him. “Oh, this duchess of mine!” He kissed her deeper, their bodies closer, desire hotter.

  Hearing him calling her his duchess made her heart swell and fluctuate. There was no end to the love she felt for this man! “Make me yours, my duke!” She murmured.

  In no time, they’d bared themselves, causing their skin to touch everywhere. She cradled him between her bent knees, as he held one of her swollen breast in his palm.

  “Your breasts are beautiful!” He lowered his head to pick the dusky hyper-sensitive nipple in his mouth, almost undoing her. “It’s the first thing I noticed in you.” He suckled harder. “You’re delicious.” He muttered still.

  “Soon I’ll be big.” She arched, offering him more, which he took.

  “You’ll be big with my child. It’ll arouse me to no end.” His hand caressed the side of her compliant body.

  “How promising!” She moved her pelvis to provoke his engorged member.

  He groaned. “It’s the proof that I am your only man, you’re mine!” His naughty hand sneaked downwards.

  “A very possessive man, indeed!” She sighed when he found her ready womanhood.

  “I forgot to tell you that before the wedding.” He mocked regret. “Now you’re hooked.

  Her both legs surrounded him, making them join their bodies lusciously. “Who’s hooked?” She breathed in between moans.

  He chuckled at her daring. “We shall say you’re ahead for the time being.” She moved her pelvis taking more of him, causing him to groan. “God, Selene! Let me enjoy it a little first!”

  “Very well, Your Grace!” Their bodies moved in pursuit of pleasure. “But you said my body is hotter.” They moved more. “I do feel…quicker.” The first ripples of contraction assailed her.

  “You are!” A helpless expression came to his face as he felt her squeezing him. “Oh, damn!”

  No more time for conversation as they came into a frenzy of quivering ecstasy.

  London came to be abuzz with the news of their wedding. Some expressed indignation, others surprise, others couldn’t disguise their bafflement. They didn’t remember the last time a widow married her husband’s relation. Probably in the Middle Ages or thereabouts. Besides, it’d become obvious that they’d been…paramours before. They’d been caught kissing in a ball. She stood in half mourning, she had been his step-aunt. Those frivolous people couldn’t see beyond the appearances. For them, the Duke and Duchess of Crompton defied any decency. The Duchess didn’t even need to change her name or title, she’d be twice a duchess now, when women at dozens had dreamed of the title, from the nephew, well understood! Nobody knew if they’d ever be accepted in polite society again.

  Philip read the gossip in the papers and tried to spare Selene of them. She’d been worried, and with reason, he thought. He didn’t want her upset. And the hypocri
tes didn’t even know that he’d directed his solicitor to keep the settlement his uncle had made for her, so that she’d be kept safe in any eventuality. He’d made a settlement for her himself as well. This would be a source of more scandal. His own solicitor had thought it strange and begun to advise against a woman with independence of means. He wanted to hear none of that.

  He considered wise his decision to live in the country until the baby came. This would give them time. He didn’t want her to take the heaviest reprobation. He’d made her pregnant; he’d insisted on marriage. They’d have to weather the storm. He’d have to go for Parliament sessions, too. He couldn’t just leave it at that. People would talk even more.

  “I’ve been reading the papers.” She tried to make her soup remain in her stomach at dinner. “Even though you told the servants to keep them from me.”

  Philip lifted his eyes from his spoon and froze. “They disobeyed me!”

  They sat at the long table in the dining room, he at the end and she by his side, on the right. The footmen having been dismissed, they sat alone in the vast room.

  “No they didn’t.” She said firmly. “I instructed Nell to pick any paper she came across.” She dabbed her lush lips. “The servants never gave any directly to me.” She looked him in the eye.

  “You’re a hell of a stubborn woman!” He said with near admiration.

  “I have to know what’s going on, Philip!” Her hands crossed on the table. “Otherwise, I cannot defend myself.”

  “You don’t need to. I’ll do it!” He placed the spoon on his plate.

  “I can fight my own battles.” She eyed him seriously. She felt safe with him, as he wanted to protect her; it warmed her heart. But she could not put her entire life in his hands, she had to live it, as well.

  “I want to spare you, in your condition.”

  She nodded, looking at him from under her long lashes. “I know. Thank you for that.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I cannot be kept in the dark. The shock of the discovery would be too strong.”