Only a Duke Will Do

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “Before!” Simon stepped toward her. “You mean you have been hurt—”

  “No!” As she darted out of his reach, she hastened to explain. “We’ve seen the mob throwing things before, that’s all. We were never allowed to accompany the carts, but we did meet the convict women at the docks so we could hand out packets. And when we saw what they endured…”

  She frowned. “It’s unconscionable. And the papers never mention it, I assure you. They condone the behavior. That was when we decided it shouldn’t happen again.”

  Casting him an imploring glance, she added, “And if you tell Marcus, he’ll refuse to let me and Regina go, and then other husbands will follow suit, and the London Ladies Society will lose half its support—all over some silly rock.”

  Good, he thought. “Next time it could be a brick the mob throws at you.”

  “Next time I’ll wear a steel hat.”

  He scowled. “Even if I don’t tell Draker, Regina will.”

  “Fiddlesticks. She’s as passionate about reform as I am, and she knows how he’d react. Once she sees I’m fine, she won’t say a word.”

  She probably wouldn’t. Regina was every bit as recalcitrant as Louisa.

  “Come now, Simon, you don’t really want to be at odds with us both, do you?” Louisa’s suddenly coy smile made his breath catch in his throat. “And surely you don’t want to be at odds with me.”

  Now she meant to seduce him into forgetting his concern? The devil she would. “We’re already at odds, remember? After today, you mean to banish me from your presence. So no matter how angry it makes you, I will keep you safe.”

  “Perhaps I was a bit hasty yesterday.” She tipped up her chin. “What if I were to say that I’ll let you observe my committee after all?”

  He stared at her a long moment, then said softly, “Not good enough.”

  “Then what if I were to say you could court me?” She eyed him from beneath seductively lowered lashes. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Good God, yes. That and more. And if he courted her, he could make sure she never risked her life again.

  He snorted. Little chance of that. Louisa could get herself into plenty of trouble while he was dancing attendance on her, especially if she kept him dangling for weeks. At least with Draker, Simon had some chance of seeing an end to her activities—assuming that the man wouldn’t let the bloody females talk him ’round to their way of thinking.

  “I will not risk seeing you end up dead.” He took a step toward her. “Now get back in the bed, sweetheart, so I can go see if your brother has arriv—”

  She halted his words with a kiss. A very sweet, very tender kiss that sent his blood racing. When she drew back, her eyes glistened the same sultry black as the Indian nautch dancers who’d tempted the soldiers.

  To his chagrin, his body leapt to attention just like one of those reckless soldiers. “What do you think you are doing?” he rasped, curling his fingers into his palms to keep from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her to the bed.

  “I’m showing you how nice it can be between us.” She draped her arms about his neck, then stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him again, this time skimming her tongue tentatively along his lips.

  So innocent…so alluring. And he was only human. He had nearly lost her, and now…

  With a groan, he tugged her close and kissed her deeply, passionately, driving his tongue between her warm, welcoming lips over and over.

  When at last he pulled back, her breath stuttered and her temptress’s eyes shone up at him. “You see how it could be?” she whispered. “And if you keep quiet about what happened today, I’ll…I’ll…” She forced a smile. “I’ll let you have as many kisses as you like.”

  He started to release her, partly out of shock that she would bargain with him using kisses, and partly out of concern for her injury. But she didn’t look injured. If anything, she looked—fine. Very fine.

  Fine enough to devour in one gulp, with her night-dark hair in a wild tangle about her shoulders and her lips red from his urgent kiss.

  His blood beat a steady tattoo in his ears. “Now? Here?” he said hoarsely.

  She played with a lock of his hair. “If it takes that to keep you silent…”

  “Your brother will arrive any moment, and when he finds us together—”

  “He won’t be back for hours. He left for Tattersall’s early this morning, and he never returns from there until late in the afternoon.”

  But Draker had been summoned—

  Oh, right, she hadn’t heard that. Which meant that she didn’t know how easily they might be caught.

  His mind began to race. This might be exactly the opportunity he needed to secure her. To end his torment. To marry her.

  He gripped her waist as a plan fell into place. Though he had promised Draker he would not compromise her, that was before watching her nearly die.

  “And Regina will be at the prison for a good hour more,” she went on, clearly willing to say anything to bend Simon to her will. “Besides, we’d hear either of them enter downstairs in plenty of time to stop kissing.”

  He doubted that. Nor was he as certain as she seemed to be that Draker would end her reform activities if Simon tattled. But as long as Louisa believed it, Simon could get what he wanted—a chance to compromise her.

  He’d have to convince her to go far enough to make Draker demand a marriage, but he could do it. Christ, if it meant winning her, he could even endure the beating that her brutish brother would surely administer.

  “So?” she asked blithely. “Are we agreed?”

  “Not yet. I want more for my silence than a few kisses.” He deliberately swept his gaze to where the unbuttoned collar of her pelisse robe exposed a tempting slice of bare flesh. “Quite a bit more.”

  A blush stained her cheeks a deep scarlet, but she didn’t pull away. “What do you mean?”

  Bringing his hand up to cover her breast, he bent his mouth to her ear. “Forbidden caresses. Forbidden, intimate caresses. I want to touch you. I want to taste you and fondle your bare flesh—”

  “That isn’t acceptable.” She pushed away from him, though her eyes now held a shimmering heat that matched the fire in his belly.

  “Then your brother and I will be having a long and very informative conversation about your activities as soon as he arrives.”

  He loathed pressing her so wickedly, but he might never get this chance again. How better to make her want to marry him than to rouse her desires? If he could show her how sweet marriage could be…

  “I do not mean to take your virtue,” he said to reassure her. “Just to have some mutual enjoyment.” Enough to compromise her. “When we are done, you can return to being as prickly as you want.”

  But he would make sure she did not want to. Ever again. And surely he could control himself long enough to pleasure her without taking her. He had waited seven years for this; he could wait a short while more for their wedding night.

  She glanced away, anger warring with desire in her face. But she was no fool. She knew he meant what he said. She must really be worried that Draker would curtail her activities—and equally determined not to let him—or she wouldn’t even consider this outrageous bargain.

  At last her gaze swung to his. “You must swear on your honor that you won’t ruin me.”

  “I swear.” He merely had to get her so hot and bothered that she lost track of the time.

  “And you have to swear that this will be the only time you make me buy your silence with…scandalous caresses. Because if you return tomorrow threatening to tell Marcus—”

  “On my honor, it will be just this once.” Once was all it would take. Unless—“But you must promise to let me do as I please. No balking at caresses you think are too intimate. I have agreed not to ruin you.” He skimmed his gaze slowly down her. “And that is the only thing I have agreed to.”

  Panic crossed her face. “But you can’t stay here half the day—�
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  “I will stop when the doctor arrives, all right?” He only prayed that Draker got here first.

  “Fine. As long as you send the doctor away when he arrives.” When Simon scowled, she added, “No doctor and no discussion with Marcus. That’s the agreement.”

  She thought she was so clever. “You are in no position to bargain, sweetheart,” he reminded her.

  “If you don’t want the offer—” she said primly and started to turn away.

  “I’ll take it.” Giving her no chance to change her mind, he dragged her into his arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dear Charlotte,

  I would hardly call a woman of thirty-two “aging.” Nor can I imagine that all surprises are unwelcome to you. You are not as unadventurous as you pretend.

  Your “aging” cousin,

  Michael

  Madness, sheer madness. Louisa reeled beneath the onslaught of Simon’s kisses. What had possessed her to propose this? Clearly, that rock had knocked the common sense out of her.

  But she couldn’t let Simon tell Marcus about today. If her brother knew she’d been hurt…No, she dared not risk it. If both she and Regina had to stop their work, the group would never survive.

  Fiddlesticks, her conscience said. You just want to see what Simon means by “intimate caresses”…

  Like those he lavished on her now, his hand kneading her breast as his mouth plundered hers with a hunger that answered her own. Heavens, the strangest parts of her body were tightening, tensing, yearning for his mouth, his fingers…

  Then he unfastened her pelisse robe and dragged it off.

  “Simon!” she cried as her serviceable wool gown puddled at her feet.

  “Naked flesh, remember?” He circled behind her to unlace her corset.

  “But if anyone comes in—”

  “Don’t fret, sweetheart.” With heated, open-mouthed kisses, he teased her sensitive ear, her flaming cheek, the pulse beating furiously in her neck. “The door’s locked.”

  She swayed back against him, struggling to regain her sanity. “What about the servants? They have keys.”

  “Yes, but they wouldn’t use them without permission. The footman is fetching my doctor. When he knocks to inform us of the man’s arrival, I will go into the hall, and that is where your family will find me when they return.”

  “W-won’t the doctor…say something to…someone?”

  “I pay him well for his discretion.” He peeled off her corset, then dropped it. “I will pay the servants to keep quiet, too, if I must.”

  It sounded eminently sensible…far too sensible for how he made her feel. His hand now cupped her breast to tease and fondle and drive her out of her mind. And his other hand…oh, sweet heaven…what was he doing?

  He rubbed her between the legs as he had in the forest, but this time it was much more intimate, much more…erotic. Since she never wore drawers, only the thin linen of her chemise lay between his fingers and the most hidden part of her flesh.

  “You’re so wet and hot, sweetheart,” he said in a guttural voice. “Do you know what that does to me?”

  He knew about the dampness, the heat? Of course he did. No matter what he’d claimed about his celibacy, he’d probably had plenty of women in his life. Or he wouldn’t know how to do this so…very…oh, heaven help her. What was he touching that made her feel—

  A moan escaped her lips. Wildly she arched into his hands, craving more. He kissed a fiery path down her neck, and she turned her head to meet his lips.

  When she spotted herself in the mirror, with his masterful hands all over her and his mouth ravishing her neck, the picture they made together excited her further…until she realized how anyone else would react to see it. “Simon, if the servants…do…unlock the door—”

  “They’ll find you lying in fashionable deshabille in your bed, awaiting the doctor.” Taking her by surprise, he lifted her in his arms. “Because that is precisely where you will be.”

  With a gasp, she flung her arms about his neck. There was some flaw in his logic, but she couldn’t puzzle it out when his gaze was raking her body with such exhilarating intent.

  In her chemise, she could hardly be called naked, but it was less than she’d ever worn in a man’s presence. And Simon seemed to see right through it as he stretched her out on her bed, for he hovered over her, his eyes darkening to that deep cerulean blue that always sent an errant thrill along her spine.

  When he untied her chemise with a flick of one finger, then dragged the neck down to expose her breasts, her face flamed, but her shameless, flagrantly rebellious nipples tautened into points beneath his penetrating glance.

  “Do you know how often I have imagined you like this?” he rasped as he slid onto the bed beside her. “How many stifling Calcutta nights I endured by conjuring up pictures of you naked beneath me? Wondering if your breasts were as full as they’d seemed?” He fondled them, teased them. “Wondering if your nipples would be pouty little cherries or rich dark damsons that puckered sweetly when I touched them?” He bent toward her breasts. “Or tasted them, like this…”

  His tongue slicked over her nipple, and she choked back a groan. His words seduced her as thoroughly as his devilish caresses. Just the sight of his golden head at her breast shot a tremor through her.

  This bargain had been a mistake. Much more of this, and she’d beg him to take her, if only to ease the yearnings in her breasts and belly. Not to mention the place between her legs that he was now unveiling, tugging her chemise up inch by inch. He even stroked her there, his finger tormenting the spot that ached for his—

  Good heavens, she couldn’t let him do this, or she would be lost. She wouldn’t put it past Simon to ruin her if she were fool enough in the throes of her heedless desire to say she wanted him to.

  But she’d already agreed to let him touch and taste her, and if she didn’t hold to it, he would ruin everything she’d worked for.

  Long as the woman lays there and lets the man do what he wants, he’ll never know the difference.

  Yes! That’s what she must do—lie here and let him do as he pleased. Not allow her shameless feelings to tempt her into doing things back, like stroking his hair or thrusting her hips against him as she was doing this very moment—

  She forced herself to ease back onto the bed. Just let him ‘do his business.’ Then it will be over and your virtue will be intact.

  He shifted to suck her other breast, and she had to fight to keep from clutching his head to her chest. Instead she grabbed great handfuls of the bed covers and squeezed.

  Think of something other than his curst mouth. Think of Newgate. She fixed her gaze on the bed canopy of white muslin above her. White. Yes, think of the white-wood carver project. What you will do with the money.

  Had Simon and Mrs. Harris met again? She would have to ask him later. Perhaps—

  “What are you doing?” Simon snapped.

  She jerked her gaze from the canopy to where he hovered over her, scowling.

  A guilty flush heated her cheeks. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. Seconds ago you were aroused, and now…” His gaze shifted meaningfully to where she clutched the bed covers for dear life. “You’re resisting me.”

  “Perhaps I’m not as passionate as you thought.” She forced a cool smile to her lips. “Or perhaps I merely don’t find this as engrossing as you do.”

  Anger blazed in his face. “And perhaps you’re trying to put a swift end to our bargain the only way you know how.”

  A pox on the man and his uncanny ability to read her mind. “That’s a rather arrogant way to look at it. You’re assuming that I—”

  “I am assuming nothing. I know you—you would rather die than allow me to win. So you are circumventing our agreement.”

  With deliberate insolence, he bent to run his tongue in a circle around her nipple, and a delicious shiver coursed down her.

  Desperately, she fought back. “Yo
u said you wanted to touch and taste me; you said nothing about my responding. Or doing the same things to you.”

  “Ah, but I am arrogant enough to want it all. So go ahead—resist me. Lie back and think of England and keep your hands to yourself.” He seized her nipple in his teeth, arousing it with a sensual sweep of his tongue. Then he released it to flash her a darkly wicked smile. “But that will only make me more determined to have you writhing beneath me in the end, touching me and tasting me and begging me to give you pleasure.”

  Ooh, what conceit! How dared he? “Save your blustering speeches for Parliament, Your Grace. This is one fight you won’t win with them.”

  The minute the taunt left her mouth, she regretted it. Now he wouldn’t rest until he’d conquered her utterly.

  “Then it’s a good thing I don’t intend to use speeches,” he said in a harsh rasp.

  And the battle was on.

  She’d scarcely drawn another breath when he caught the hem of her chemise and jerked it up her body to bunch above her breasts. Now she lay fully exposed to him, from her chest to the garters tied just below her knees.

  Simon scoured her naked body with a devouring glance. Then like Wellington at Waterloo, he swooped down upon her with merciless cunning, scorching her bared breasts and nipples with kisses, laving them with hot rasps of his tongue even as his hand delved fearlessly between her legs.

  Only this time he didn’t stop with rubbing her, oh no. He slid his devilish finger inside her slick passage in a motion as bold as it was shocking. She was still gasping at the audacity of that invasion when he began stroking her, in and out, up and down, first with one and then with two questing fingers.

  Oh, heaven save her from his clever hand, which seemed to know just how to arouse her. She swallowed the cry that rose in her throat and squeezed the covers into knots in her effort not to squirm. She closed her eyes, but that only made her more aware of his mouth, now searing a path of open-mouthed kisses to her belly, his tongue darting into her navel for a fleeting caress before it trailed farther down to—