A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

  Meg said with a grin, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  Lady Penelope inclined her head regally, then looked at Lucinda. "Good evening, Mrs. Devering. A pleasure to see you again."

  "Lovely to see you, as well, Lady Penelope."

  How could she have forgotten the duke's plans for Lady Penelope and Garrett, even for an instant?

  The duke continued with the introductions. "And, of course, you know my nephew, Lord Knightsbridge."

  "Ah, Perfect Penelope," Knightsbridge said with a hint of a sneer that made Lucinda stare at him in amazement. "You're in fine looks tonight, but I suppose you know that already."

  The duke, after a moment of utter shock, looked thunderous. Garrett and Meg stared at Knightsbridge.

  Lady Penelope's features settled into a perfect mask of cool politeness. "And you, Lord Knightsbridge, are ever the buffoon."

  "Better to be a buffoon than an ice carving."

  "That's enough, Knightsbridge," the duke snapped.

  Knightsbridge jerked his gaze from Penelope and gave his uncle a baleful look. "I'm going to the card room. Coming, Kelton?"

  Before Garrett could answer, the duke jumped in. "My grandson was just about to dance with Lady Penelope."

  "I can't imagine why he would care to do such a thing," Knightsbridge said. "But if that is so, then I shall see you later, Kelton."

  For one instant, an expression of genuine hurt crossed Lady Penelope's features. At first, Lucinda thought she was the only one who had seen it. Then she saw the speculative look on Garrett's face, and realized that he had, as well.

  "Of course I want to dance with Lady Penelope," Garrett said smoothly. "It would be my pleasure."

  Penelope smiled at him, then accepted his arm as he led her out to the dance floor. Knightsbridge glared after them for a moment, then spun on his heel and stalked away.

  "I don't know what's gotten into that boy," the duke grumbled, watching his grand-nephew's retreat. "Never saw him cut anyone like that before, much less a lady. At least Garrett is doing the right thing, though I'm surprised to see it."

  "Knightsbridge hurt Lady Penelope's feelings," Meg said. "And as much as Garrett seems to like thwarting you, Grandpapa, he would never do so at the expense of a lady."

  The duke grunted. "At least the boy has some sense of honor."

  "Of course he does," Meg replied. "He just has a nasty temper as well. I think he gets it from you."

  The duke gave a bark of laughter at that, then patted Meg's arm. "You're a treasure, my dear." He looked back at the dance floor. "They make a fine couple, don't you think, Mrs. Devering?"

  Lucinda nodded, swallowing back an explosion of emotion that threatened to bring her to tears. She was unable to tear her gaze away from Garrett and Lady Penelope, and she was not the only one. As a couple, they looked spectacular. Tall, dark Garrett, dressed in stark black, was the perfect foil for the petite blond Penelope in her white gown. They looked like opposite sides of the same coin, big and small, dark and light, male and female.

  How could she have thought, even for a minute, that she could possibly engage Garrett's affections for more than a fleeting time?

  No doubt Garrett pursued her only for the thrill of the chase, not because he truly wanted her. All she could ever have with him was a few nights of passion—if she was even enough for him in that way.

  Oh, she was fine when it came to kisses and caresses. But when the moment came to take a man inside her, things changed. Pleasure turned to pain. Hot passion turned to cool distance. She was incapable of enjoying the sexual act.

  Unable to watch anymore, she turned away. No man could resist such delicate beauty. It looked like the duke was going to get his wish.

  Chapter 11

  It had been a splendid evening—or so everyone said. Garrett sat in a comfortable chair in the library and scowled down into his glass of brandy. He could barely believe it, but he had actually enjoyed some of the evening. Though not nearly as much as Meg had.

  He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her laugh so much or have such a good time, and it bothered him that she seemed to love it here in England. What if she never wanted to come home with him?

  That thought had made brandy seem like a damned good idea.

  He'd taken off his coat and tugged loose his cravat, which now dangled around his neck. He had also unfastened a button or two on his shirt.

  No doubt Stobbins would have a heart attack if he saw him like this.

  And what would Lucinda do if she saw him like this? Probably accuse him of running around naked again. He took a sip of brandy. Perhaps he'd wander upstairs to her room and ask her.

  The notion of breaching her bedchamber made him hard in an instant. The fantasy of what he would do once he gained entrance made him even harder.

  That kiss on the terrace had been hot enough to make him forget his surroundings and think about dragging Lucinda into the bushes for a quick, hard coupling. What would she have said to that? Probably something along the lines of, "Captain, how could you!"

  He would have shown her how he could. As many times as he could.

  But somehow, before they went home, she had cooled toward him. On the carriage ride back she had barely spoken to him. He had done his best to make as many obnoxious comments as possible, but Lucinda had remained stubbornly silent. All he had succeeded in doing was starting a fight with his grandfather, who had seemed unusually interested in what Garrett thought of Lady Penelope. But he was only interested in when he could get Lucinda alone.

  She had eluded him by going upstairs with Meg when they'd arrived at the duke's townhouse. But she couldn't avoid him forever. He would seek her out once he finished his brandy.

  Twenty minutes later, just as he drained the last drop, Lucinda entered the library.

  * * *

  Lucinda had crept downstairs with the idea of fetching a book from the library to help her sleep. A medicinal draught of sherry had proved to be a bad idea last time; better to find some boring tome. She had to do something, lest she toss and turn all night, thinking of Garrett.

  She wanted him, but she couldn't have him. She had to focus on her practical goal and ignore these disturbing emotions that kept her awake at night. Garrett Lynch would either marry Lady Penelope or return to America. In either case he would be out of her life, and she needed to concentrate on what would happen to her after he was gone.

  Still, she couldn't help but admit that she was very tempted to take Garrett Lynch for a lover, if only for one night.

  As she entered the library it took her a moment to realize that she was not alone, and by that time it was too late to retreat. She pulled her wrapper more tightly around her nightdress and raised her chin as if she were fully dressed for battle.

  "Good evening, Lucinda," Garrett said, caressing the empty brandy snifter in his hand. She wondered how much he had imbibed.

  "Captain," she acknowledged with a stiff nod. "If you'll excuse me, I will be out of your way once I have fetched a book."

  He rose from his chair, looking lean and predatory in his disheveled evening clothes. "Do let me assist you."

  "That's not necessary," she said, edging toward the nearest bookcase. "I was just looking for something boring to put me to sleep."

  "Trouble sleeping, Lucinda?" He stopped just beyond touching distance, then reached above her and pulled a book from the shelves. "Let's see. How about the classics? This is Virgil." He opened the book and flipped some pages, then began to read.

  "Thus every Creature, and of every kind the secret Joys of sweet Coition find—"

  "Give me that!" she exclaimed, yanking the book from his hands. Her cheeks flamed red. Coition indeed!

  "Not partial to the classics? Let's see what else we can find," Garrett said, perusing the shelves.

  While he wasn't looking, Lucinda surreptitiously glanced at the rest of the erotic poem, then slammed the book shut, heat flushing through her body.

  "Perhaps the Bard
?" He pulled out a thick volume that contained the works of William Shakespeare and leafed through the pages.

  "Here we go."

  "Her breasts like ivory globes circled with blue,

  A pair of maiden worlds unconquered,

  Save of their lord—"

  "I think not, Captain." She pulled that volume from his hands as well and shoved it back on the shelf. "I can choose my own reading material, thank you."

  "You find my taste objectionable, Mrs. Devering?"

  "I find you objectionable in every way, Captain!"

  "Really?" He pulled another book from the shelf. "I doubt you can call this one objectionable." He held it up so she could see.

  "The Bible?" She raised her brows. "I'm amazed you know of its existence."

  He actually looked wounded. "Of course I know of its existence. Here," he said, flipping through the pages. "This part is one of my particular favorites." He held out the book to her.

  She gave him a skeptical glance, but really, what sort of mischief could come from reading the holy Bible? Turning her attention to the page, she began to read.

  "Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck."

  Gasping with surprise, she gave him an accusing look. "Leave it to you to desecrate a holy book!"

  He laughed. "I didn't desecrate anything. This is from the Song of Solomon." He reached out and traced her cheek with one finger. "The ancients did not deny their desire, Lucinda. They rejoiced in it."

  She pulled back from his touch, but the emotions it brought forth echoed throughout her body. "It's scandalous."

  "It's human nature," he corrected. He removed the book from her hands and reshelved it, then cupped her face in both of his palms. " ‘Thou hast ravished my heart,' " he quoted softly.

  "Nonsense," she whispered.

  "Truth," he countered. "I cannot get you out of my mind."

  "That is just because I have refused you."

  "No, Lucinda." His voice was serious, his blue eyes intent. "It is you I want, though I do not know why you do not believe me."

  "Come, Captain," she scoffed, but her voice was shaky. "I am a sensible woman. Men do not lust after the likes of me. I am convenient, that is all."

  He frowned at her. "Who told you such nonsense? What idiot man did this to you?"

  "No one has done anything to me."

  "Certainly in not the right way," he muttered with a scowl. "Lucinda, you are a beautiful woman. Any man would be privileged to make love to you."

  Oh, how she wanted to believe him! But she had learned the truth years ago. "Thank you for your kind words. Now I will simply get my book and leave you in peace."

  "No." He grabbed hold of her shoulders when she would have stepped away, and he pulled her against him. "Kind words be damned, woman. Can't you see that I want you?"

  Surprise gave way to excitement as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with open-mouthed passion. The heat of his hands on her back seemed to burn through the thin material of her nightclothes. For one panicked moment, she wondered if she would be able to stop him. What if he ravished her?

  A thrill ran through her. She wanted him to ravish her. No, she desired it. No, craved it. And she wanted to ravish him right back.

  "God, I want you," he muttered, nuzzling her neck. The nip of his teeth at her throat made her shudder. Her eyes slid closed, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders as her emotions got tossed about like a ship on stormy seas.

  Did she dare steal this bit of pleasure for herself?

  "Tell me you want me." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Say it, Lucinda. Say it, or I'll stop now."

  She stared at him, her lips parted. How easy it would be to simply let him seduce her, let him sweep her away with passion. Easier for whom, though? Easier for him? Or easier for her, so she could absolve herself of blame in the morning?

  The thought of saying the words, of surrendering herself into his keeping, terrified her. But even more frightening was the thought that this moment might never come again.

  "Please," she whispered.

  He cupped her face in his hands. "Say you want this, too, Lucinda. I will not have you accusing me of taking advantage of you come the morning."

  She hesitated, then lay her palm against his where he cupped her cheek. "I do want you, Garrett," she whispered.

  He made a low, growling sound and pulled her face to his to kiss her.

  As soon as his lips touched hers she melted against him, the amazing rightness of his touch making her hunger. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything inside her.

  One night—she would allow herself one night to explore this thing between them.

  His arms banded tightly around her body as if he would imprint her on his own. One large hand slid down, cupping her bottom and surprising a squeak from her. But as his large hand began to massage her sensitive flesh, she gave a low moan of surrender.

  "What is it about you?" he murmured, mouth gliding from her ear down her throat and back again. "No matter how many times you refuse me, Lucinda, I always end up back here, begging for your touch."

  "Oh, my." She let her head fall back as his teeth found her throat. "You want my touch?"

  "Desperately." He cupped his big hand around the back of her head and stared deeply into her eyes. "Touch me, Lucinda. Please." The last word came out as a groan as he resumed nibbling her neck.

  "Where?" she whispered.

  "Anywhere," he murmured.

  Anywhere? A thrill shot through her at the idea of touching this magnificent male...any-where. It was totally scandalous. Deliciously scandalous.

  Tentatively she stroked his shoulders, grazing the muscles with her nails. He gave a muffled groan and took her mouth in a hot kiss that had her knees melting.

  "More," he whispered.

  She kissed his throat and thrilled as he closed his eyes with a hard sigh of need. She nuzzled her nose into the chest hair visible above his open buttons and boldly licked his firm flesh. His hands tightened around her waist. Encouraged, she smoothed her palms over his chest, delighting in the hard muscles beneath the thin shirt. He made a sort of purring sound and stretched beneath her touch like a cat being stroked.

  She ran her nails down his chest, grazing the flat masculine nipple beneath the material, and his eyes sprang open. He looked at her with such heat, she was amazed she didn't incinerate on the spot. Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he flicked open the laces of his shirt, then took her hand and placed it on his naked chest, over his heart. She stroked him, tangling her fingers in the curling dark hair that sprinkled his flesh. He made a low hum of approval, then reached over and tugged open the ribbons of her wrapper, slipping it from her shoulders and leaving her clad only in her thin nightdress.

  She swallowed her instinctive protest, then dug her fingers into his chest as his fingers brushed the tip of her breast. She had always been sensitive there, and his touch made her pulse skip wildly as her nipple hardened in response.

  He kissed her again and she closed her eyes, giving herself into his hands, trusting him in a way she had never quite trusted any other man. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her, first kneading her flesh, then gliding the edge of his thumb over the aching nipple.

  It had never been this good for her. Perhaps she would finally experience the pleasure she had heard so much about.

  He stopped touching her, and she opened her eyes on a whimper of protest. He only smiled at her and took her hand from his chest to kiss her palm. Then, holding her hand, he led her to the nearby sofa.

  He sat down, legs sprawled in front of him, and guided her between his spread thighs. Her limbs trembling, she could only stand before him like some offering to a deity as he reached out and loosened the ribbon at her neck, then slid off her nightdress.

  She closed her eyes, unable to look at him as she stood naked before him.

 
"Lord in heaven, you are beautiful," he murmured, tracing a hand down the side of her breast, along her waist, and coming to rest on her hip. "Look at me, Lucinda."

  She opened her eyes, and saw that he watched her with a gentle smile, this incredibly attractive, aroused man. How had she come to this? And did she dare continue?

  He must have seen the fear in her eyes, for he took her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm. Then he placed her hand flat against his chest. "Come sit on my lap, Lucinda."

  She flushed all the way to her toes, she was sure of it. "I can't. I'm too big to do such a thing."

  He chuckled, then tugged and shifted until she straddled him. "You hardly weigh anything."

  She just knew her face was beet red. How had this happened? How had she come to be naked in Garrett Lynch's lap, her legs spread wide across his thighs, her bare breasts in his palms? What madness possessed her?

  He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, and suddenly she knew what madness possessed her. The same madness that sent desire streaking straight to her woman's parts, the same madness that made her tip her head back, arch her spine, and let out a groan of deep hunger.

  She tangled her fingers in his long hair, holding his head to her as he suckled strongly at her breast. Her thoughts swirled, fading away as arousal took hold. Her breath hissed through her teeth as his strong hands closed over her thighs and kneaded the muscles there, and a whimper escaped her as he trailed his fingers along the insides of her thighs.

  Oh, there. Oh, yes, there! He touched her gently between her legs, carefully stroking the delicate folds. She quivered in his arms, clinging to his head as he switched his suckling to her other breast, then let out a cry of surprise as his fingers brushed an incredibly sensitive spot.

  He made a low, humming sound of approval and slowly released her nipple from between his lips. Looking into her eyes, he continued to stroke her woman's parts, making her shiver as he leisurely drew circles over her damp, sensitive flesh with his fingers. She shifted her grip to his shoulders and clung, her nails digging into the firm muscles.