by Matilda Hart
“He has been awake a few minutes, and he’s quite hungry,” she replied. “I am so happy you came back,” she continued, smiling at the woman who sat across from her.
“I wouldn’t miss this wedding for the world, my dear. You and Ryde deserve to be happy, after the sorrow of the past year. Besides, as I am to be little John’s godmother, I thought it best to be present at his christening.”
“This will be such a busy weekend,” Lottie said. “The wedding is tomorrow, and the christening on Sunday.”
“And all you have to do is show up and be beautiful.”
Both women looked up as Ryde walked in, a loving smile on his handsome face. He bent to kiss Regina’s cheek and then bussed Lottie’s lips.
“Welcome back, Regina,” he said. “I trust all is well at home?”
“Perfectly,” she replied with a smile.
The talk went to the wedding, which would take place in the chapel, and the party after. The house was full of family, and Lottie’s parents were due to arrive later.
“I cannot wait to see you in that dress,” Regina said. “If I were a different woman, I would be so jealous of you.”
Lottie laughed. “I am grateful that you are you, Regina,” she said.
“John would have been so happy to be a father,” Regina continued. “And he would have been a good one, too.”
Lottie looked at Ryde, who winked at her. She laughed again, so happy she could burst.
After the requisite year of mourning, during the second half of which
Ryde began to openly court her, she was to become his wife. It tickled her that she would retain her title as the Duchess of Snowley. The year had been fraught with tension. After John’s funeral, she had spent time away from the house while his things were disposed of and the house thoroughly cleaned. Then she had returned, with Ryde having been installed as the new Duke, and Regina had come to stay and be her companion.
She had needed her when she discovered that she was with child. Although she could not be sure whose child it was, Lottie believed it was Ryde’s, but she was grateful that no one knew of her indiscretion, and everyone assumed that her husband had left her with the precious gift she now held in her arms. Regina’s help had been invaluable, and they had become fast friends.
Her father had been devastated when he had learned of the reason for the Duke’s death, and she had sensed a change in him, for which she was grateful. Despite his arrogance, she loved him, and worried for his safety. Ryde tolerated him well enough, but she knew he was happier when her parents were not around. Having grown up in their home, she understood, and did not hold it against him.
She couldn’t wait to become the new Duchess of Snowley. She had grown to love Ryde more than she could ever have imagined, and she was more than ready to claim her prize publicly. And John Barrington Chapple, Marquess of Snowley, Earl of Ryde, would grow up in a loving home with two doting parents.
Two nights later, sitting on the edge of her bed, Lottie waited for her new husband to appear. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, and the festivities had gone on all day and into the night. At last, the house was silent, and she was desperate for her husband’s return. The door to his rooms opened and he walked in, dressed in a luxurious robe of black silk. He had two glasses in one hand, and a bottle in the other. He set them down on the mantle over the fireplace, poured the wine, and offered her a glass.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” Ryde said, coming to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. “To my bride, the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Lottie chuckled, but tipped her glass to his and sipped. “Mmmm...this is good!”
“I’m glad you like it, my lady,” Ryde answered. “Now drink up. I am impatient.”
Lottie looked at him over the rim of her glass. “Why so, my lord?” she inquired, batting her eyes at him coquettishly.
He grinned at her. “I have waited for four long months to have you, and you shall not escape tonight.”
“Who says I would even try?” Her answering smile lit up her whole face.
Ryde stood, took the glass from her trembling fingers and placed it back on the mantle along with his own, and picked her up.
“Our first time as man and wife will be in my bedchamber,” he said. “I wish to to claim you. I wish to be claimed by you.”
He lowered his head and kissed her gently, and passed through into his room, where the massive four-poster bed sat solidly in the middle. The covers had been turned back, and Ryde placed her gently on the bed, and pulled the string that tied her chemise to her.
“Raise your arms for me, my love,” he told her, and she did as instructed.
He pulled the chemise over her head, and stared at her full breasts in awe. Mother’s milk plumped them even more, and her nipples beaded under the combined heat of his gaze and the chill in the air.
“You are my beautiful bride,” he said, “and I love you.”
He bent to kiss her again, licking his way into her mouth and exploring, before withdrawing once again to strip himself. He was wearing nothing under his robe, and Lottie looked at him as though she had never seen him before. His chest was broad, the hairs that covered it silken to the touch, The trail narrowed as it went down until it was a furrow that led directly to his jutting sex, surrounded by a nest of dark hair. She reached out and curled her hand over him, enjoying the feeling of his hairs on her fingertips.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned, and pushed himself further into her hand. “I love it when you touch me,” he said, pushing her back onto the bed, and spreading her legs wide. “My turn now,” he announced. “Lie back.”
He settled himself between her spread thighs and feasted on her, making her whimper and groan as he nipped and licked and suckled her. She was so responsive that it drove him wild, and he ate her until she came in his mouth and all over his chin. Dragging a hand over his face, he stood up, pushing her back across the sheets and crawling up beside her. He kissed her mouth hungrily, sharing her taste with her as he slid his hands over her mound and pushed two fingers into her.
Lottie groaned and raised her hips, needing him deeper. Ryde obliged, sending his fingers all the way inside her as he kissed her.
“You are bone of my bone,” he whispered, “flesh of my flesh, heart of my heart. I will love you forever.”
He stroked into her, adding the torment of his thumb against her clitoris, and she came again, crying out his name as she did. And before she was done, he surged up and rocked into her body, his cock hard and hungry, taking her higher and higher.
“Do you like it like this, my love?” he whispered, nipping her ear as he plunged into her.
“Yes, oh yes!” she exclaimed, gripping his shoulders, loving the way his body fit into hers. “Go harder, Barry,” she begged him. “Take me harder!”
Ryde obliged, ramming her, growling as she thrust up against him, tightening the muscles in his buttocks so he could give her what she needed. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him deeper into her, and he lost control completely, slamming into her and coming hard, feeling her follow him over the edge. They cried out into each other’s mouths, breathing hard. He could not stop his hips until he had emptied himself inside her.
“Happy wedding day, Lady Snowley,” he whispered, rolling to the side and pulling her into his body.
Lottie smiled and snuggled closer, pressing her bottom into his still half hard cock.
“Much more of that, my lady, and you shall suffer the consequences,” he said in mock threatening tones.
Lottie giggled. “I can’t wait, my lord!”
THE END
BONUS!! - We want to hear your thoughts. Rate this eBook and get another one FREE!
Click here or copy the link below to leave your feedback.
https://docs.google.com/a/readersclubdeluxe.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfBstB4hoXbRzGjudZP9Bys9Hmv4t9O8so9_9hzQDu4lAhcOw/viewform
Thank you,
Historical Deluxe,
GET THREE HISTORICAL EBOOKS FOR FREE
Join the “Historical Deluxe” newsletter and THREE eBooks for FREE!
*Get Free Historical Romance eBooks for your reading device and other cool giveaways*
*Discover exclusive deals and discounts before anyone else*
*Be the first to know about hot new releases from your favorite authors*
Copy or click the link below to join
https://readersclub.leadpages.co/hdk/
In Bed With a Duke
Introduction
The Duke of Devonshire is a barely acknowledged relative of the Queen; he’s in line for the throne, but his rakish attitude and taste for married women is sure to keep him safely out of favor with Her Royal Majesty. Blessed with an impressive title and a sizeable income, the Duke does what he likes, when he likes and doesn’t have to answer to anyone… especially now that his mother is dead.
The Napoleonic Wars rage on, and with their husbands away fighting, the Duke has opened his house and given the high-born women of the village his personal protection. Charlotte Rutledge is one of the only women who has been able to avoid the Duke’s inappropriate advances, but now that her darling husband has been sent away to the thick of the fighting, she has nowhere else to turn. Will she be able to resist his flirtations, and what will happen if she does finally submit to his handsome smile and irresistible charm?
Chapter 1
I wiped away a fresh bout of tears as I stared out the garden window. George was marching with the garrison today, and I don’t know how I can stand to watch him go. I’m not ready to lose my husband. We had met at a Regimental Ball only two years ago, he had been so handsome with his brass buttons, gold braid and the deep wine red of his dress jacket. The candlelight that had filled the hall had made my pale pink dress glow, and George had come up to me after the first dance and shyly filled in a space on my dance card while my face had burned and my sisters and their friends had twittered behind their fans. Who would have guessed that a visit to my cousin’s country house would have resulted in a marriage proposal? Certainly not me.
Another tear dripped over my cheek and fell onto the bodice of my dress. I couldn’t let George see me crying. I’m a soldier’s wife, and because of that my life is uncertain. I know that now. I had been following news of the war as best I was able – Napoleon seemed like the worst kind of scoundrel and I dreaded the thought of George going across the Channel to meet this French demon and his armies on foreign shores. From what I could gather from the newspapers I had been able to catch sight of, it was in the National Interest to be hopeful, but deep down, I was sure that I would never see my darling George again. I wiped away my tears with a square of muslin I had embroidered. I ran my finger lightly over the intricate pattern, George had one embroidered with the same whitework pattern; I had made them as a gift for him last Christmas, at least he would be able to take a remembrance of me with him when he left. No more tears. George would be expecting me to be strong, like all the other women in town.
I smoothed my dress and checked my face for redness or other signs of my distress in a small mirror that I carried in my dress pocket. My eyes were a little puffy, but hopefully George wouldn’t notice. I could hear him in the hallway talking to the housekeeper, who was no doubt fussing over his uniform. George and I had been married for two years, but his mother insisted on hiring all of our servants, and the housekeeper had been a loyal member of the Rutledge household since George had been a child. I tried not to let the calculated slight bother me, but it was a daily struggle. Mrs. Baker fought all of my decisions tooth and nail, and I knew that she reported everything back to George’s mother, who wrote me often to chastise me for one slight or another.
“Oh, Master George, you do look so proud in your uniform. I will never stop being proud of how you’ve grown up so handsome and tall, and now look at you, off to war in France!” I rolled my eyes, Mrs. Baker never tired of fawning over George. I wish I could say that he hated it, but I knew that wouldn’t be true. George was the baby of the family, and he was used to being taken care of. His older sisters were no better, and I dreaded their visits.
“Mrs. Rutledge, there you are. Mr. Rutledge was just about to leave us, and I was worried that you wouldn’t be here to see him off.” My smile was tight, but Mrs. Baker wasn’t looking at me when she spoke. I disliked being spoken to like a child, but I had learned to let most of what she said roll over me like water over rocks in the riverbed. George shooed the older woman away as I approached so that he could fold me into his arms and pull me to his chest. His uniform was crisp and new, and the smell of the polish he used on his buttons was sharp in my nose. I wanted to remember him this way forever. Handsome and brave in defense of King and Country. I tried to hold back my tears, I couldn’t let Mrs. Baker see me crying.
“You must write to me, and promise me that you will stay safe?” My voice was muffled in his jacket but he squeezed me tighter and kissed the top of my head tenderly.
“You mustn’t fuss, Charlotte. I’m going to war, and Napoleon is on his last legs out there. The garrison will be marching back home before you even realize that I’m gone.” I looked up at him with wide eyes, and wished that I shared his optimism. He gripped my chin lightly between his gloved fingers and kissed me lingeringly on the mouth; how I loved the way his lips felt against mine. Mrs. Baker cleared her throat loudly behind us, and George reluctantly ended the kiss. Propriety be damned!
I clutched the lapels of George’s jacket and almost pleaded with him not to go, but I knew such wailing would be useless, George loved the army, and for months all he had been talking about was how much he hoped to be called up to go to France. He smiled down at me while I straightened his cravat and fussed over his buttons. It was hard to be brave. But it was harder still to watch him walk to the door where his friend Mr. Grace waited. He had an impatient look about him, and I imagined he was as eager to get out of England as George was. George didn’t tell me that he loved me, not in front of Mr. Grace, or Mrs. Baker, but I knew he wanted to.
I stood on the stoop and watched them go. Other wives were bidding goodbye to their husbands too, mothers fawned over their sons, and sisters hugged their brothers tightly as they joined George and Mr. Grace in the street. We would be a village of women and children until the men came home from war. The loneliness of it all was crushing, and I could feel the tears pricking at my lashes once more. I closed the door tightly behind me and went to my rooms. With the finality of George’s departure finally sinking in, there was nothing I could do to keep away the tears, and I sobbed into my pillow. For two years I had known true happiness, and now it was all slipping away. With George gone, I had no one – my family was too far away to come and keep me company, and I couldn’t bear to leave the house that I had shared with George. Mrs. Baker was a spy for my vile mother in law, and I couldn’t imagine what she had in store for me now that George would no longer be able to protect me from her vicious barbs and judgements.
Mrs. Baker’s rapid knock on my chamber door pulled me from my misery. The housekeeper’s voice was muffled by the wood of the door, but her shrill voice still penetrated the silence of the room.
“Mrs. Rutledge, you have a visitor. Mrs. Charles is here to see you.” I hiccoughed slightly, I knew that I looked a fright but I didn’t care. I hauled myself off the bed and opened the door. Mrs. Baker looked me up and down, a n expression of annoyance on her face. “It won’t do to lock yourself away sobbing like a child.” I felt my face redden with embarrassment, and I wiped away my tears hurriedly.
“Charlotte! Charlotte come down!” Sophia was awful at waiting, but being around her never failed to lift my spirits. I pushed past Mrs. Baker and went down the stairs to where Sophia was waiting. Sophia had been the first person to befriend me after my marriage to George. She was quick-witted, had a sparkling laugh and was the best pianoforte player I had ever met. She and I had played together many times for balls and social gatherings, and she
was the only one who knew how to compliment my voice with her playing.
Sophia’s husband had gone away to France months ago, and I had consoled her through the worst of her tears, and I was grateful that she had come to see me. I fell into Sophia’s arms and a fresh bout of tears spilled over my cheeks and onto the soft fabric of her coat. “Charlotte, hush now.” Sophia hugged me tightly as I sniffled, “Come sit with me, I know this is hard, but this is what happens to soldier’s wives. We marry dashing, brave, stupid men who go to war. When this silly thing in France is all over with, they’ll be here annoying us day in and day out and stinking up our parlors with cigar smoke, drinking and playing cards and moaning on about the ‘great old days’ with their odious friends.” I giggled and started to relax. Sophia really did know just what to say.
We went into the parlor and sat on the edge of the sofa, it was hard and uncomfortable, but it had been a wedding present from one of George’s rich uncles and his mother would know in an instant if I even thought about getting rid of it. Sophia reached out and swiped a tear from my cheek.
