A Necessary Husband

by Debra Mullins

  "You're not playing fair," she chided, bending to flick her tongue across his nipples. "You're supposed to be enjoying this."

  "I am enjoying it. Too damned much."

  "Poor thing," she crooned. "Maybe this will help . . ." She shifted backward, then leaned down and caressed the tip of his straining shaft with her tongue.

  "Good God!" He reached for her, tangling his fingers in her hair. "Where did you learn that?"

  She smiled and licked him again, loving the deep groan that rumbled from his chest.

  "Don't you dare stop," he moaned. "It feels incredible."

  "Tell me if I do something wrong."

  "You couldn't," he murmured, caressing her face, her hair. "Just don't stop."

  "All right." She continued to stroke him with her tongue, nuzzling him with her lips, finally taking him completely into her mouth. He made a growling sound in his throat, his face a picture of ecstasy, and she increased her motions, loving the way he was undone by so simple a caress. Then suddenly he pulled away from her, rolled them over, and pinned her beneath him.

  "That's not fair," she pouted as he loomed over her.

  "All's fair in love." Before she could blink, he had stripped her of her nightgown.

  "Garrett, what—oh, sweet heaven!" All thoughts of what she had meant to say dissolved from her mind as he dipped his head and sucked strongly at her nipple. She wrapped her arms around him, arching her back and rubbing her pelvis against his as the pleasure mounted like lightning.

  "I have to have you," he murmured, switching to the other breast.

  "Didn't you like what I was doing?" she teased.

  "Any more of that, and things would have been over much too soon." He spread her thighs and nudged himself between them, pressing his erection against her aching flesh.

  She arched her hips in supplication.

  He thrust inside her and held still for a long moment. "You're mine," he whispered.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him in deeper. "You're mine, too."

  He began to move, and they came together in a passionate kiss, mouths starving for the taste of each other. She clung to him and held him tight, as they sought ecstasy together.

  * * *

  Much later, she snuggled close in his arms, one hand over his heart, the glow of pleasure still surrounding them.

  "I can't change your mind, can I?" she whispered.

  "No." He kissed her forehead and tightened his arms around her.

  "All right." She stroked her hand across his chest. "Just come back to me."

  He twined his fingers with hers, over his heart. "Always," he vowed.

  Chapter 22

  Thursday dawned gray and drizzling. Stobbins would be upset about his rain-spattered boots, Garrett thought, but then again, bloodstains would be worse.

  He had left Lucinda alone in his bed, wrapped in his sheets and the scent of their lovemaking. They had come together three times in the night, each time more desperate and hungry than the last. Finally she had slipped into slumber, exhausted.

  He would do anything for Lucinda, but he could not allow her good name to be tarnished— and he couldn't allow her abuser to escape unscathed.

  Knightsbridge and Chumley were examining the pistols, and across the green stood Arndale, looking smug and confident as he chatted with an acquaintance.

  Though dueling was illegal, quite a crowd had gathered. Some placed wagers on the outcome, and some had come merely to watch the spectacle. A couple of young bucks had clearly not been to bed yet and they laughed uproariously at each other's jokes, oblivious to the solemnity of the day.

  "Lord Kelton."

  Garrett looked up to see Sir James approaching him. He didn't bother to hide his surprise. "Sir James, what are you doing here?"

  "I heard what was going on. This is about Lucinda?"

  Garrett nodded. "Arndale abducted her and tried to force himself on her, then took offense when I bloodied his nose for it."

  "Bastard," Sir James spat. "Bloodied his nose, did you? Is that what happened to his pretty face?"

  "Guilty as charged."

  "Good for you then. I never liked Arndale." He paused, then looked Garrett in the eye. "Lu-cinda's father told me what Arndale did to her. I didn't agree with George's solution, but she was not my daughter. I had no say."

  Garrett nodded.

  "Be aware that Arndale is not honorable. He will cheat, if he can."

  "I've been warned."

  "Good." The older man clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck to you, then. I hear congratulations are in order?"

  "If you are referring to the fact that I intend for Lucinda to be my wife, then yes."

  "I'm happy for you," Sir James said, "even though I offered for her myself. But she was always in love with you. At least I lost her to the man who loves her. Take care of her, Kelton." The older man turned to leave.

  "Sir James, wait," Garrett called.

  Sir James turned back, brows arched in inquiry.

  "Should things go awry today," Garrett said, "I want you to take care of Lucinda. I need to know she will be safe if I am not here to protect her."

  The other man's face softened into a smile. "I have a feeling you will rule the day, Kelton. But if by some mischance that devil's spawn manages to put a bullet in you, you can rest assured that I will indeed wed Lucinda and take care of her for you."

  "Thank you," Garrett said, sincerely grateful.

  "Kelton!" Knightsbridge called, approaching rapidly. "We are ready to begin."

  "Good luck to you," Sir James said again, then he melted into the crowd.

  "I'm ready," Garrett said. "Let's get this over with."

  * * *

  The coach lurched to a halt, nearly throwing Lucinda to the floor. Silently cursing, she slid to the far end of the seat and peered out through the window curtains.

  A large crowd of gentlemen had gathered on the green where Garrett and Malcolm were to duel. Both men and their seconds were talking, while a third held open a box that held two dueling pistols. Malcolm made a gesture with his hand, and Garrett selected one of the pistols. Malcolm took the other.

  The sight of Malcolm with a weapon in his hand made her shudder, but not nearly as much as the look of malice that the viscount sent at the American's back as Garrett walked away. She twisted her fingers together so hard that her knuckles hurt as the two men took their positions, back to back.

  The crowd grew silent as the count began.

  "One! Two! Three!"

  "Please, God, let him live," she whispered, her gaze riveted on Garrett.

  "Four! Five!"

  How could she have been so foolish as to refuse to wed him the second he asked her? They could have been halfway to America by now...

  "Six! Seven! Eight!"

  He was doing this for her, she knew. Trying to preserve her good name in a society that meant so little to her now. She loved him for the gesture, but—

  "Nine!"

  "Look out!" someone shouted.

  A gunshot shattered the silence, and Lucinda screamed as her worst nightmare seemed to come true before her very eyes. Garrett went down like a stone, landing face-down on the ground.

  "Arndale fired early!" exclaimed a voice from the crowd. "Dishonorable bastard!"

  Garrett wasn't moving. He looked so still...

  The roar of the crowd grew louder, and Malcolm looked smugly pleased with himself. Lu-cinda's hands shook as she tried to shove open the door, sobs shaking her body and tears streaming down her face. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be!

  "Wait, he's up!" someone cried.

  Lucinda jerked her head up and stared as Garrett slowly picked himself up off the ground. Her hands slid weakly off the door handle as her entire body sagged with relief.

  He was safe. By some miracle, he was safe.

  Garrett wiped his hands down the front of his mud-stained coat. Stobbins would kill him for certain, he thought. Then he turned to face h
is opponent.

  Malcolm's self-satisfied smirk disappeared as it became obvious that Garrett was unharmed.

  The viscount glanced from right to left, but no one would meet his eyes. He stood watching Garrett with growing panic spreading across his face, his empty pistol still clutched in the limp hand hanging at his side.

  Garrett had expected Arndale to fire early, but he still nodded in gratitude to Sir James, who had shouted the warning.

  "Lord Kelton, you may still take your shot," said the man holding the pistol box. "Lord Arndale, hold your position."

  It was worth the mud bath to see the fear on Malcolm's face. Garrett grinned as he sighted down the pistol at his nemesis.

  "I will take my shot," he called out. "And I'll put a bullet in your sorry carcass if you ever so much as look at my betrothed again." Then he fired, enjoying Arndale's yelp of fear as the bullet exploded in the ground between the viscount's toes.

  The crowd roared with approval, and money began to change hands as wagers were paid. Garrett remained where he was, the excitement draining out of him.

  Knightsbridge strolled over. "This little incident certainly has changed the mind of society," he said. "Arndale will never again enjoy the popularity he has in the past."

  "Good." Garrett handed the empty pistol to him.

  "Going to be deuced dull without you around," Knightsbridge said. "Maybe I'll come visit you in America."

  "We'd be glad to have you."

  "In the meantime," Knightsbridge said with a chuckle, "perhaps you had best see to your betrothed, before she comes running out of that coach and completely ruins her good name."

  "What?" Garrett whirled and saw Rayne-wood's coach with its ducal crest at the edge of the green. "What the devil is she doing here?"

  "Probably wanted to make sure you didn't get yourself killed," Knightsbridge said, but Garrett had already started toward Lucinda.

  Shunned by the other men, Malcolm left the green, surrounded only by his servants. As the viscount's carriage pulled away, Lucinda jumped down from the duke's coach.

  "What's the matter with you?" Garrett demanded. "Don't you know you can ruin your reputation by showing up at a duel?"

  "Then you'll just have to marry me and save my reputation." She flung herself into his arms and held on tight. "Thank God you're all right."

  "I told you I would come back to you." Taking her face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Now, will you come with me to America and be my wife?"

  She grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

  * * * THE END * * *