by Burke, Darcy
“It never made sense to me.” He dropped his gaze to hers. “Not until now.”
“And yet you never defended yourself. Why?” She’d long wanted to understand that. She’d certainly never believed him capable of pushing her, and she still didn’t think that was what he’d done.
The look in his eyes turned bleak. “Does it matter? The truth is that I am as horrible as everyone believes.”
“It was guilt.” At last she understood. “Allowing everyone to think the worst of you was the punishment you gave yourself.” She cupped his face with both of her hands. “Well, now you will stop. You’ve tortured yourself long enough, and it’s time for it to end.”
“How? Now that we know the truth—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “It changes nothing. Now you know why you fought, why you grabbed her arm. No one knows what happened after that, and while you may have a strength you don’t always realize, you wouldn’t push her.” She moved her hand to the back of his neck, cupping her fingers around his nape. “How angry were you with my f-father d-down-downstairs?” Damn, she’d just gotten herself under control, and the mere mention of him was sending her back into a dither.
“Furious.”
“Enough to thrash him, I’m sure. And yet you didn’t. You are not a violent man, Simon.”
“You don’t know what happened, and neither do I. Because I was stinking drunk.” He spat the last, his eyes narrowing with self-disgust.
“You drank often and to excess before you married, did you not?” At his nod, she continued. “Did you ever get into a fight or find yourself in a violent situation?”
“No.”
She wasn’t surprised. “I know enough of your reputation to think you had the opportunity. You were a consummate rake, if rumors are to be believed—gaming hells and brothels.”
“Once again, you’re employing logic. With wondrous results.”
“And you’re employing humor to avoid the matter at hand.” She exhaled sharply. “Am I getting through to you?”
He clasped her waist. “Yes. But to be clear, there were no brothels. I had a mistress.”
“Whom I don’t want to hear about. Ever.”
“Don’t be jealous, my love. You are the only woman I want. Now and forever.”
His words enflamed her, taking the anguish clawing at her insides and turning it into something wholly different. “Show me.”
His eyes widened. “Now? Despite everything that just happened?”
“Because of everything that just happened. I need to feel you, to know that I’m not alone in this world, that I’m safe.”
Chapter 16
His brain didn’t have time to catch up with his body. Simon brought her to him, pulling her against his chest. He pressed his mouth to hers, his lips already parted and hungry for her kiss.
She didn’t make him wait, twining her arms around his neck and licking into the recesses of his mouth with long, lush, eager strokes of her tongue. She threw her leg over his hips and straddled him. Her pelvis pressed down, but her skirts were bunched between them.
With a strangled cry, she pushed them out of the way. He aided her cause, pooling the fabric around them so that when she came down again, her bare sex pressed wantonly against his breeches.
His cock jerked, desperate for her. But this was an unfortunately awkward position, with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He wanted to drive into her, to feel her muscles squeeze around him.
Lifting her skirts, he slipped his hand between her thighs. She was unbelievably wet. The moment his fingers stroked her flesh, she moaned deep into his mouth. He kissed her hard and rubbed her clitoris until she moaned again.
Her hips thrust against him, and she pulled her lips from his. “I need you now.” She brought her hand down from his neck and unbuttoned his fall. A moment later, her fingers encircled his cock, tugging impatiently on his flesh. As good as she’d been that first time, she’d learned much more. Her slightest touch stirred his lust and made him mindless with need.
“I have to get up,” he rasped.
“No, I can ride you here.” She rotated her hips, grazing her sex along the length of his cock.
“I can’t move. I have to move. If I can’t drive into you, I might die.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” she murmured, sliding off him. “Hurry.”
He rose against the bed and clasped her hips, lifting her with him. Turning, he set her on the edge of the mattress and spread her legs so he could stand between them. He pushed her skirts to her waist, exposing her sex and the pale silk of her thighs. He wanted to kiss her, to lick her, to stoke her desire until she panted his name.
She freed his cock from his garments and pulled at his flesh, urging him toward her. “Now, Simon. I need you inside me.”
He traced his fingers over her folds as he thrust forward. She guided him into her slick channel and claimed his mouth once more. The kiss was wild and reckless, their tongues tangling as he drove deep into her body. She welcomed him, her legs curling around his hips, squeezing him as her hands clutched at his back.
He wanted to watch her face, to revel in the joy and wonder of her orgasm when he led her over the edge. He tore his mouth from hers and pushed her back on the bed. Halfway down, she clutched at his shirt, her fingers snagging in his cravat. The silk came loose, and she pulled it free. After she tossed it aside, he clasped her hands and leaned forward, pressing her backward until she was flush against the mattress. He pinned her hands on either side of her head and stared into her slitted eyes. Her gaze was dark and seductive.
Never taking his eyes from hers, he held her down as he pulled almost completely out of her sheath, then plunged forward again, filling her to the base of his cock. She cried out and tightened her legs around him, her heels digging into his backside.
He repeated his thrust, moving a bit faster, but taking care to give her his entire length. “Yes,” she moaned, over and over, reminding him of that night in Coventry when Mrs. Ogden had done the same thing. He’d never imagined that night would spark an attraction between him and Diana that would only grow and flourish and become an intrinsic part of him.
Her eyes opened a bit wider as she focused on him. “Harder,” she demanded. “Faster. Please, Simon,” she purred. “I need you to let go. Show me why I’m the only woman for you.”
White-hot desire pulsed through him, and he relinquished his restraint. He thrust into her, over and over, and felt her muscles tense. She was so close. He let go of her hand and stroked her clitoris, stoking her orgasm. Her sheath squeezed him mercilessly as she came. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” She repeated the plea until he clasped her hips and brought her up off the bed. Tilting her to the perfect angle, he drove into her as his pleasure built. He felt her tense again and knew she was on the precipice once more.
Her heels pressed into his backside, and her thighs squeezed as her muscles contracted around him. He shouted her name and poured his seed into her, giving himself completely over to rapture.
He continued to move for another moment as her body took everything he had to give. Then he fell forward carefully, putting his weight off to her side but managing to stay inside her. He wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.
She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead, then his temple.
He tilted his head back and looked up at her. “I need to go back downstairs and throw your father out. You don’t need to come with me.”
“I d-don’t w-want to.”
“Have you always done that?” he asked softly. “The stutter.”
She nodded, her gaze suddenly shy. She looked up at the ceiling. “It grew worse as I got older. By the time I was to make my d-debut, it was quite awful, much to my f-father’s cha-chagrin. So it was delayed until I was able to master the problem. And my father insisted I pretend to be younger than I am rather than be judged a spinster.” Her gaze dropped to his. “I’m twenty-four, not twenty.”
S
imon stared at her. “Well, that makes sense. You’ve always seemed much more mature than most young ladies.”
She laughed. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely.” He grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses along her palm and wrist.
“I had to be,” she said soberly, her gaze returning to the ceiling. “My father insisted upon it.”
“How did you do it? Stop stuttering, I mean.”
She didn’t immediately respond, and he almost told her to ignore the question. He didn’t want to press her. “I wasn’t given a choice. Every time I stuttered, he forced me to do speech exercises. And if I failed at those, which I often did, he put me in a closet for an allotment of time—one hour, two hours, three hours. I had to sit on a stool and balance a book on my head.” Her gaze drifted to his briefly, and he saw the anger and suffering in their depths. “Do you know how difficult that is? My back would ache relentlessly, and if the book fell, I had to start over. All the while, I had to recite the speech exercises while my governess supervised me.” She paused to swallow. “I went through four governesses because they would all eventually leave. They couldn’t bear my father’s cruelty any more than I could. But I didn’t have their luxury of leaving.” She turned her head toward him, and her features softened. “Until you.”
Her blue eyes sparked with gratitude. “You took me away. You saved me.”
He slid from her body and rose up and took her mouth in a fast, possessive kiss. “We saved each other, and I would do it again. In fact, I’m about to.” He reluctantly stood, thinking he’d much rather stay in bed with her and let the villains downstairs rot.
He fastened his breeches as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What are you going to do?”
“Throw the baronet out and forbid him from returning. You can choose to see him when you feel like it. If you feel like it. Or not. The choice is yours.” He reached for his cravat and then decided he didn’t want to bother. Instead, he cupped her face. “The choice will always be yours as long as I draw breath.”
She nuzzled his hand with her cheek. “I never thought I was worthy.”
“You are a magnificent woman, Diana. Any man would be lucky to have you. But I’m the one who gets to claim you.” Pride soared in his chest, and he was nearly overcome with the joy of his fortune. He leaned forward and kissed her again. “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded and smiled at him before he turned and left.
Before he reached the stairs, he stopped to adjust his clothing. Minus the cravat, he supposed he would pass muster. Not that he cared. He didn’t give a fig what Diana’s parents thought of him, and right now he wasn’t sure if he was going to toss his own mother out as well.
He rushed down the stairs and when he reached the bottom, an odd sensation stole over him. That was the first time he’d come down without hesitating, without feeling a cold rush of guilt.
Not wanting to contemplate that too deeply, he stalked toward the drawing room. He was shocked to find his mother taking tea with his in-laws. It looked far too…pleasant.
He surveyed the room and its inhabitants with a frown. “I’m glad to see you’ve enjoyed some refreshments. Now get out.”
His mother looked aghast, particularly when her gaze dipped to Simon’s lack of a cravat, but it was Sir Barnard who responded. He stood from the settee and glowered at Simon. “I should have left that house party the minute you arrived. You poison everything you touch.”
Simon rounded on the man and gave full rein to his ire. “Actually, I think that’s probably a better description for you. Just look at your wife. She would clearly prefer to be anywhere other than here. Every time you speak, she flinches.” Simon turned his attention to the woman, whose eyes were wide with shock and perhaps a bit of fear. “If you ever require a place to stay, you are welcome here.” He hoped he wasn’t making an offer Diana wouldn’t support, but he had the sense her mother, while complicit with her husband’s abuse, had suffered too.
Simon returned his icy gaze to the baronet. “You, however, are not welcome. You’ll leave now and not return unless you are explicitly invited. If you try, I shall have you forcibly removed. Do I make myself clear?”
“You can’t do that. My daughter won’t allow it.”
“She not only allows it, she endorses it. She is no longer your daughter. She is my wife. The duchess you always wanted her to be, and as such, she can decide whom she wants to see and when she wants to see them. You are not on that list. Now, do remove yourself, or I shall call my staff to assist you.”
Lady Kingman stood slowly and lightly touched her husband’s arm. He pulled away from her and sent her a nasty glare. She jerked away, giving Simon a sad look. “You’ll take care of her. Thank you. Come, Barnard.”
Sir Barnard’s throat worked, and his eyes blazed. “I will not be pushed out.”
Simon’s mother jumped into the fray. “She married a duke. What more do you want? If it’s to have the duke like you, I think you’ve missed that opportunity. Off with you, then.” She waved him away as if he were an annoying insect.
When it appeared the baronet wasn’t going to leave, Simon called for Lowell.
Sir Barnard looked as though his head might explode. Even his ears were red. “I’m going. For now.”
“Forever,” Simon corrected. The butler appeared in the doorway, and Simon inclined his head. “Please show Sir Barnard out. Permanently. If he tries to return, you may not admit him. Lady Kingman is welcome if she arrives alone.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler escorted Diana’s parents from the room, and when Simon heard the distant sound of the front door opening, he allowed his muscles to relax.
But only for a moment.
Then he turned to address his mother. Before he could speak, she said, “That was very well done. Your father would be proud.”
Simon could’ve said a dozen things, but ended up blurting, “Whatever were you doing down here with them?”
His mother arched a sardonic brow. “Having tea. Wasn’t it obvious? Don’t think I was nice to them. For the most part, I ignored Sir Barnard, and he was content to simply sit and seethe. Lady Kingman is actually a decent sort—she clearly cares for her daughter. She apologized for her husband’s behavior, which earned her a glare that would strike fear into the bravest of men, and said she was happy her daughter had made a love match. I’m happy too. You’ve been very lucky when it comes to love, my boy.”
Lucky? Was she mad? “How can you say that after I lost my first wife?”
“Because I see you with your second wife. Ask yourself this, if you could turn back the hands of time and have Miriam, would you be willing to say good-bye to Diana? Could you?”
That was a bloody nonsensical choice. And he couldn’t make it. But even as he thought that, he already had an answer. He simply couldn’t imagine his life without Diana in it, whereas he’d had to move on without Miriam. “Thank you for making me feel horrible again.”
She got up from her chair, causing Humphrey to stir from his nap. He stood up and stretched, turned in a circle, then settled himself in the center of the cushion where it was warm.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel horrible. You know I speak plainly.” She always had. “I was only trying to point out that you’re a lucky man to have found love twice, especially after losing Miriam.”
He eyed her skeptically. “You sound sympathetic. What happened to the woman who blamed me for her death, who turned her back on me after the funeral?”
“She realized life is too short and that she knows her son.” She stepped toward him. “It was an accident. You wouldn’t hurt her, even if she was carrying a bastard.”
“Do you think she was?” The pain of that possibility was less now that it had been earlier. He didn’t know why exactly, but he’d welcome the improvement.
She shrugged. “We’ll never know. Mrs. Dodd confided the rumor to me, and I didn’t tell you because you were in such bad
shape.”
“And yet you told me today.”
“It’s time to put it all to rest, don’t you think?”
“I’d like to, but I don’t know if it’s possible.” This was an improvement too. Before, he would have flatly said it was impossible, that he’d made a promise to Miriam never to let her memory fade. “Why did you abandon me?”
She exhaled, and he detected a note of self-recrimination. “I can’t say I’m proud of it. I was angry at your behavior. Not because I thought you’d maliciously pushed her down the stairs, but because you couldn’t remember. You know how much I hated your drinking.”
Yes, he did. “You were right to hate it. I don’t drink anymore.”
“Ever?”
“Not a single drop. I’ve become quite a tea enthusiast.”
“How remarkable.” She blinked and glanced away for a moment, bringing her fingertip to the corner of her left eye.
“You were right to abandon me.” Diana was right—he’d cultivated people’s scorn and derision as a form of self-punishment. He’d accepted his mother’s treatment as something he’d deserved. “I could barely live with myself. Why should anyone else?”
Her brow creased. “You needed care and support. I should have been there for you. Yes, it was a horrible thing—an accident. You must find a way to forgive yourself. But it seems you may be on that path. I wasn’t there for you, but clearly Diana was. And is. I can see how much you care for her. It’s similar to Miriam, but different too.”
“I miss her, but I do care for Diana. More than I ever thought possible. How can there possibly be room for both of them in my heart? Already, Miriam is starting to fade a bit.” His chest constricted as he recalled coming down the stairs just now and not even thinking of her until he was at the bottom.
Mother gave him a wan smile. “My dear boy, she will fade with time. Even your father has faded for me—and I haven’t remarried. It doesn’t mean I love or miss him any less. It only means I’ve found a way to continue, to move forward. And he would want me to do that. Miriam would want that for you too.”
