Her Favorite Duke

by Jess Michaels

  Her upset, created during the party when she’d seen Simon and Graham standing together—the future that had been thrust upon her and the one she would never have—had caused a great deal of problems now. And for the one person she would never have hurt in this world.

  She rolled slowly, facing him in the dark. “Simon?” she whispered.

  There was no answer. His face was turned slightly, so she couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or open.

  “Simon?” she repeated, this time with less certainty.

  “What?” he responded, his voice tight.

  “I-I’m sorry I ruined today,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry I caused all this trouble by running off from the party.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he shifted just a little. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. She took that as the encouragement he didn’t say out loud and continued.

  “I feel like I should explain myself,” she said with a sigh. The darkness, the intimacy of lying in a bed together, it all made it seem safe to say what was in her heart. Not all of it, of course. But some. If Simon understood, then perhaps this would be easier, somehow. “I-I don’t want to marry him.”

  There, the words were out. Words she had never spoken to any other soul. She’d somehow expected when she said them for them to lose some of their rotting power. But instead, it made her anxiety about her future all the stronger.

  “Meg…” Simon said, his tone a warning.

  But she was past warnings now. Now the words seemed to fall from her lips even if she didn’t want them to. “It isn’t that I don’t like Graham, or that he isn’t a fine match. God knows he is a fine match—any woman would fight to be in my place. But that doesn’t change the facts. And the fact is that there isn’t a connection between us.”

  “Meg,” Simon said again, this time with more urgency.

  “Not the connection that there is when I’m with—”

  Simon rolled unexpectedly, pushing her onto her back on the mattress, his hands coming to grip her upper arms as he loomed over her, his body covering half of hers as he stared down into her face with wild eyes. Her jovial, playful friend Simon was not there in this man’s face that was so close to her own. He had been replaced by a dark, hard, passionate Simon who held her down and made her body ache even more with a wanting that was wrong and right all at the same time.

  “Stop,” he hissed. “Don’t say another word, Margaret, or I’ll—I’ll—”

  What little breath she had left in her lungs caught in her throat. “What? What will you do?” she asked.

  He groaned deep in the back of his throat and then his mouth crushed down on hers. Simon was kissing her. The shock of that was so powerful she didn’t think to fight it.

  His grip loosened on her arms and she lifted them up, wrapping them around his neck and drawing him closer as relief flooded her. It was like a dam had been broken, one built from years and years of stolen glances and hidden longing. Now everything she’d ever felt or wanted from this man was cascading over her and she was lost to its power. To his power.

  His mouth was rough on hers, opening so his tongue could push inside her. She allowed it, meeting the kiss with her own, unpracticed, yes, but just as passionate. He stroked her tongue, seeming to taste every inch of her as his weight pushed her into the pillows. She was beginning to understand and did the same to him, eliciting another soft groan from him.

  His hands moved, too, sliding down her bare sides, gripping her hips in the darkness beneath the blankets and pushing himself against her. She lifted to his weight, gasping when the hard cock she’d seen earlier thrust against her lower belly, insistent and hot.

  “Simon,” she gasped into his mouth, overwhelmed by pleasure and need all at once. It was all so heady and dangerous and wanton and wonderful.

  He froze at the sound of his name, his hands stilling, his mouth stopping. Then he released her in an instant and jumped off of her as quickly as he could. He caught the blanket on top and wrapped it around himself as he paced away to the fire.

  “No!” he shouted, loud enough that the room almost shook. She thought that the exclamation was as much to himself as to her, and she winced at the pain in that one little word.

  “No,” he repeated, and there was even more pain in the softer admonishment.

  He moved toward the door and she sat up, the blankets sliding from her breasts as she did so, but she didn’t care.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “Please, Simon.”

  “I can’t, Meg,” he said, spinning to face her. He stared, and she blushed before she covered herself. “I can’t, don’t you see? No matter how I want to, no matter how I need to. He is one of my closest friends. Practically a brother when I had no one else in the world. They both are. I’m sleeping on the floor. I should have done so to begin with.”

  Her lips parted. “But the cold—”

  “Then I’ll freeze,” he snapped, exiting the room and slamming the door behind himself.

  She flopped back on the bed, covering her face with her forearm as the tears began to fall.

  Chapter Six

  Simon shifted and grunted as pain shot up his arm. Every part of his body felt stiff and bruised. He remained with his eyes closed, caught between restless sleep and wakefulness, and tried to remember exactly why everything felt so awful.

  And then he heard the voices. Distant, through glass and wood, but there. He recognized those voices. James saying, “—one of the few people to know where this place is.”

  Then Graham, his tone angry. “—at least it would protect her.”

  Simon shot to his feet, all the memories of last night coming cascading down on him. He and Meg caught in the storm. He and Meg, lying in that bed together. Kissing Meg and having it be so much better than anything he’d ever dreamed.

  And so much worse.

  He’d had every intention of waking her early, of them being fully dressed before dawn. But thanks to that searing kiss, he’d hardly slept, probably less than an hour, and clearly most of that hour had been recent.

  Now Graham and James and…there was another voice, one he didn’t recognize. Well, they were here. And he was naked except for a blanket, and all his clothes were in a bedroom with Meg, equally naked.

  “Shit!” he burst out, tucking the blanket around himself just as the door began to open.

  “It’s unlocked!” he heard James say, relief in his voice as the door swung fully open and revealed James, Graham and the Viscount Baxton, a distant friend of their group. Also one of the most gossipy gentleman in Society. All three of them stopped and stared as they saw Simon standing in his little blanket and nothing else.

  Graham’s eyes narrowed and Lord Baxton’s widened. James stepped forward, his expression uncertain. “Thank God, Simon. We were worried sick. Is Meg with you?”

  “Yes,” Simon said slowly. “We were caught out in the storm. I had to bring her here, she was soaked to the bone and—”

  Before he could finish, the bedroom door opened and all the men pivoted to face it as Meg stepped into the main hall. Simon’s eyes fluttered shut. She was still wearing only the blanket and her hair was mussed from sleep. She looked gorgeous as ever, but she also looked…well-loved.

  She caught her breath, tugging her blanket up higher, and her gaze flickered to Simon.

  There was a beat of a moment where everyone was silent, staring at each other, the meaning of all this sinking in for each person.

  Then Graham lunged forward. “You son of a bitch!” he bellowed before he swung and punched Simon square in the nose.

  Meg screamed as Simon staggered beneath the force of Graham’s blow, nearly falling onto the settee. Blood began to trickle from his nose, but Graham didn’t look finished either as he took a long step forward.

  She didn’t think. She just moved, rushing to lodge herself between the men. “No, stop! Please, Graham, stop!” she said, blocking Simon as she clutched at h
er blanket with one hand and pushed Graham back with the other.

  He stared down at her, his gaze suddenly very focused. And very angry. She’d never seen him so angry, or so anything emotional, in all the time they had been engaged.

  “What is this, Margaret?” Graham hissed, his gaze holding hers, forcing her not to look away, telling her everything he thought of her. “This is what you’re doing?”

  “I’ve done nothing,” she said, lifting her chin and trying not to think of that kiss with Simon. “We were trapped, that is all. I have done nothing wrong.”

  Graham let out a bark of angry laughter. “It doesn’t look that way to me. It looks like you opened your—”

  Now it was Simon who lunged from behind her. “You shut your goddamned mouth and have some respect!” he shouted, his hand coming to settle on Meg’s back.

  She appreciated the protection, but since every single man in the room tracked the inappropriate movement of his hand, it didn’t help their situation.

  James stepped forward, catching Graham’s arms as Meg pushed back at Simon to hold him from the fight. “Enough!” James snapped, his sharp tone silencing the room. He shoved Graham toward Baxton. “Get him out of here. You two ride back to the estate and I will deal with you there.”

  Graham shook his head. “There is no dealing, James. Is there? Is there, Simon?”

  James glared at him and sent a side glance to Baxton, who was barely containing his grin of glee at the drama unfolding. Meg held back a sob. What a tale he would have to tell.

  “Go. Back. Home,” James said.

  Baxton at last took Graham’s arm and tugged him out the door, with Graham sending looks of pure rage at Simon the entire time. Once they had left, James slammed the door behind them and turned to Simon and Meg.

  Meg had seen her brother through many a troubling scenario. Through their father’s abuse and neglect, through their mother’s many outbursts when she was drunk, through his courtship with Emma, which had not been entirely smooth. Today, looking at her, he had an expression she had never seen before. There was tension on his face, worry, anger and a touch of what she knew was disappointment.

  She had disappointed him, and that cut her all the way down through her heart. She turned away from it, blinking at the tears that rushed to her eyes.

  “Go into the bedroom and get dressed, Meg,” James said softly. “Simon will do the same out here.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “Er, my clothes are in the other room.”

  James jerked his face toward Simon, and the disappointment Meg had seen directed at her was tripled for him. “Of course they are,” James growled. “Margaret, bring the Duke of Crestwood’s things to me and I will deliver them. Then get dressed in the bedroom. Please.”

  “Yes, Jamie,” Meg whispered, reverting to her childhood nickname for him in the hopes it would soften him to her.

  He said nothing as she entered the room and caught up all of Simon’s clothing. She brought them back and handed them over to James. He touched her hand once he held everything, then wordlessly leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

  “Can you manage?”

  She nodded and looked over his shoulder one last time at Simon. He was staring at her, his expression filled with guilt and regret. Regret over what they’d shared. She supposed she should feel the same, considering what their actions had now wrought.

  But she didn’t. And seeing those emotions on his face broke her heart anew. Slowly, she closed the door and covered her face. Her entire world had just broken. It was very likely nothing could fix any of it.

  James threw the clothing and Simon barely caught it as it hit his chest with enough force that it nearly took the air out of him. They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment before the silence was broken by the sound of three gunshots in the distance.

  “What was that?” Simon asked.

  James shook his head, his dark eyes snapping with emotion. “That is Baxton firing off shots to tell all the others searching for you that you and Meg have been found safe.”

  Simon swallowed. “All the others?”

  “Yes. All our friends and most of the other men in our party spread out all over the estate at dawn this morning, hoping to find you and my sister alive.”

  Simon bent his head, trying not to think about the frantic, terrible night James must have endured. The love he felt for his sister was deep and strong after the childhood they had gone through together. Even a hint that she might be lost to him must have choked James with fear.

  “What the bloody hell were you thinking, Simon?” James hissed.

  Simon sighed as he tugged his trousers on and let the blanket fall away at last. He shook out his shirt as he pondered the right answer to the question. The truth seemed the only way out.

  But not all of it.

  “I wasn’t thinking at all,” he admitted. “I saw Meg sneak away from the party. She was obviously upset about something, so I followed her.”

  “That wasn’t your place,” James ground out.

  Simon hesitated. No, it was not. And he’d known it when he did it. He’d gone anyway. And he hadn’t stopped her until they were far away from the house, until the storm was looming…perhaps there was part of him that had orchestrated all this.

  Which made it all the worse.

  “I- I wasn’t lying when I said we got caught out in the storm. Nor was she lying when she told you that nothing…nothing happened between us.”

  His mind ripped him back to that kiss in the bed. To her soft, naked body trapped against his as she sighed and moaned into his mouth. That moment when he had almost lost control and driven himself into her so no one else could ever lay claim to her.

  But he hadn’t. Somehow he hadn’t.

  “I should call you out if Graham won’t,” James said, shaking his head as he paced the small room. “Naked together in this tiny place?”

  “What was I to do, let her freeze to death in her wet clothing in order to maintain some decorum?” Simon asked, glaring at James before he at last tugged his shirt on and began buttoning it.

  “No.” James pressed his lips together hard. “Of course not.”

  “Look, if either of you decide to call me out, it will be entirely understandable.” Simon sighed. “I would not deny you that pleasure. I deserve the consequences of my actions.”

  “Of your feelings?” James clarified, facing him and spearing him with a glare.

  Simon lifted his chin. “Perhaps those, too.” James’s eyes went wide as he stared, unspeaking, at Simon for what felt like an eternity. “You never wanted me for her. You loved Graham more, and I may have…I have…ruined that.”

  James’s forehead wrinkled in what seemed like genuine shock. “Loved Graham more? Is that what you really think?”

  “That is what is true,” Simon said softly. “I accepted that years ago, James.”

  Which wasn’t exactly true. The fact that James wanted Graham as his true brother still stung occasionally. But not as much as losing Meg did.

  “I chose Graham because you were still whoring around half of London at the time,” James said, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Great God, you and Roseford fucked women together from time to time, if I remember the drunken bragging correctly.”

  Simon flinched. “Robert bragged. I did not.”

  “Either way, you weren’t ready to settle down. I didn’t think you’d be open to the idea of an engagement. But Simon, look at me.”

  Simon lifted his stare from the dusty wooden floor he’d been focusing on and made himself look at James. James’s face was softer now. The anger and disappointment were still there, but there was something strong above it all.

  “What?” Simon asked.

  “Not choosing you was never about a lack of love for you,” James said.

  Simon nodded and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Of course, another had already settled there and it was far h
eavier than the first. As if James read his mind, his mouth tugged down into a grim line.

  “You know what has to happen now, I think.”

  Simon caught his breath. The moment the three men had burst into the room, he’d known what would happen. If it had only been Graham and James to find them, perhaps it would have been different.

  But it wasn’t. Baxton had been there, he had seen everything. Simon hadn’t fully allowed himself to process what that meant, but now it was unavoidable.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to marry her.”

  Meg fussed with her buttons and blinked at the tears that threatened to fall. She knew it was wrong to leave the door open a crack and listen to them, but she had done it anyway. At least until she heard too much and she’d backed away and dressed.

  She’d heard James yell at Simon about whoring through London. About…sharing women with the Duke of Roseford. That was when she’d moved away. The idea of that was very confusing to her, for she didn’t understand the logistics, but the meaning stung her. All the while that she had been pining for Simon, he had been moving from woman to woman, not even thinking about her?

  Was she just another in that line? Was his kiss last night about her being just another warm body that he couldn’t resist? Was everything she thought was between them just a lie?

  She shook her head. It didn’t really matter anymore. She had bigger problems out in front of her. A gossip who would spread this tale. A fiancé whose rage was palpable and completely understandable. The disappointment of a most-beloved brother. Those things were what she had to focus on.

  Simon would have to take care of himself.

  She took a long breath, then left the room. The two men stopped talking as soon as she stepped out, and she found herself looking at Simon even though she was trying not to do just that.