Dukes Are Forever

by Anna Harrington

  His weight pressing down on her was delicious, exactly what she’d craved for weeks, and so were his hands as they roamed her body to caress and explore every inch of her. But it was his strength and hardness she’d missed most of all, that wonderful feel of hard male against her feminine softness. And oh, those fingers—those clever fingers that circled, teased, and pinched at her nipples until they ached, until she writhed beneath him, begging for more.

  It had been too long since he’d been inside her, simultaneously taking his pleasure and giving it, and her body wanted his. Now. With a whimper of need, she spread her legs wide to welcome him.

  “Kate,” he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers to nip at her throat. “We can’t, not like this.”

  For a heartbeat, she froze. Surely, he didn’t mean—he couldn’t mean that they had to stop! Not now, not when her body wanted this so much that every inch of her quivered with aching need for him, so much that she would burn up and die if she didn’t have him. “Edward, please—”

  “Like this.” He rolled onto his back, bringing her up on top with a surprised gasp as her thighs straddled his hips.

  “Oh,” she breathed as she looked down at him, and a new excitement pulsed through her. He’d meant that his still-tender shoulder wouldn’t tolerate having to brace himself over her to take her as he’d done before. He meant he wanted her sitting on…Oh! His erection strained hard beneath the fabric of his breeches, and when she made a taunting little test of his restraint by swirling her bottom against him, he sucked in a mouthful of air between clenched teeth, his entire body shuddering. “Oh my,” she whispered wickedly.

  Then she leaned over to kiss him, her tongue sliding back and forth across his lips until he opened for her and let her sweep inside to taste his kiss the way he’d tasted hers. He’d surrendered control to her, and she thrilled with it.

  Her mouth left his to lick and bite her way down his throat and across his chest, pausing only to worry his flat, male nipples between her teeth before moving lower. His body was amazing, and she couldn’t believe any other man could feel this good, so hard the muscles, so soft the bare skin. And every inch of him delicious. Her tongue lapped over the hard ridges of his abdomen, following the thin trail of dark hair until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

  “These need to go,” she whispered, sliding her finger down over his trousers and torturously across the straining bulge. “I want your warm skin against mine tonight.”

  A soft groan of agreement escaped him, and she gave a playful laugh as she cupped him possessively against her palm through the fabric. Tonight, he was hers, and she refused to let him forget that.

  Her fingers trembled as they slid free the buttons in eagerness to have her hands on him. He lifted his hips from the mattress to help her as she peeled the fabric down his legs and off to the floor.

  Kate stared, her breath hitching at the naked sight of him. His erection was large and hard with hot arousal for her, simply magnificent in its manliness, and he was all hers, just waiting for her to take what she desired. She touched him gingerly with an exploring brush of her fingertip along his length, fascinated by the feel of his steely hardness beneath wonderfully soft skin even on this part of his body, and he twitched against her fingers.

  She gave a soft laugh of wonder and touched him again, and this time when he jumped at her fingertips, Edward rasped out her name in low warning.

  But she was too captivated with her power over him to hold back and reached for him again, this time to wrap her entire hand around his hard length and squeeze. His hips bucked beneath her, and with a devilish smile, she began to pump her hand over him, mimicking with her clenched fingers the way her body had stroked around him before.

  “That feels…so good,” he forced out, his breaths coming in pants, his heart beating so fast she could feel it pulsing through his hard shaft beneath her fingertips. “Don’t stop.”

  But she had no intention of stopping, thrilling with each stroke of her palm along his length and reveling in the way her own body’s arousal grew from simply touching him. She shook violently now, the throbbing ache between her legs nearly unbearable, and she was so close to coming just like this, from only having her hands on him while she knelt beside him.

  She helplessly whimpered her need, and in answer, he slid his hand between her thighs and slipped his fingers inside her, burying them deep in her wet warmth. A moan tore from her as his fingers plunged in and out of her.

  Her folds quivered shamelessly around his fingers, her body taking its own pleasure even as she gave it. “Edward, please,” she begged, lost to the wonderful sensation of his manhood in her hands as his clever fingers possessed her sex. Her heart skipped in its fast tattoo with each teasing swirl of his fingertips. “I want—I want…now.”

  He grabbed her around her hips and lifted her to straddle him. Reaching down between her thighs, he placed her hand back around him, the tip of his erection aimed at her pulsing core.

  “Hold me right there, angel,” he ordered, his hoarse voice filled with his need to be inside her.

  Then, with one large hand clasping her hip, the other reaching between her thighs to spread her open wide with his fingers, he guided her down over him, his length sinking smoothly inside her tight warmth.

  He growled as he lifted his hips from the bed to shove up hard inside her until she was fully seated on top of him, his length buried inside her to the hilt. With a soft cry at the sensation of being filled so completely, she grasped for his shoulders to keep her balance.

  “Take your pleasure, Katherine,” he murmured hotly, circling his hips beneath her in permission for her to let herself go.

  Drawing a deep breath, she began to move, rocking herself in gentle, little pulses of her hips. Small, testing movements as she shifted over him—

  “Take it,” he encouraged her fiercely, his hands clamping around her waist. “Like this.”

  He lifted her up his length and then dropped her, plunging back into her at such a raw angle that she lost her breath. But, oh, the sensation was amazing! Each time her hips landed against his, he thrust up against her, grinding against the throbbing nub at the top of her folds and sending an electric jolt shooting through her.

  But it wasn’t enough. With a whimper of need, she instinctively leaned forward onto her knees, the new angle opening her sex against him and rubbing her aching point against his pelvis as she began to move not up and down but forward and back over his body.

  Licking her lips, she closed her eyes and grabbed at his shoulders as she thrust over him, each movement grinding against him, rubbing harder at her pulsing bead. Soft whimpers and mewlings escaped from her lips as she rode him hard, her thighs shaking as she galloped toward release.

  His hands cupped her bottom to urge her on, and he leaned up to latch his mouth on to her breast. Each hard pull of his sucking mouth shot straight through her, down to the flaming heat where he thrust between her thighs, and she moaned. With a shudder, she tossed back her head as her thighs clenched down hard against his hips, climaxing in a white flash of heat and electricity.

  His arms went around her, yanking her down on top of him and capturing her mouth beneath his to smother the passionate cry that tore from her. She was helpless against the waves of pleasure that pulsed through her to do anything more than lie across his chest and whimper softly as he thrust up beneath her, now taking his own pleasure. She felt him jerk between her thighs, followed by the rush of his release deep inside her, and she clung to him, never wanting to let go.

  Still holding her tight, he rolled them both gently onto their sides and slipped from her warmth. He stroked her face as she kept her eyes closed, enjoying the diminishing pulses of pleasure still throbbing dully through her.

  He gave a soft laugh and nuzzled her neck. “Good Lord, angel,” he panted out as he caught his breath, “if that’s what happens when you’re angry, I’m going to keep you furious at me forever.”

 
“Don’t tease,” she chastised gently. “Not about that.”

  “Apologies,” he murmured, his lips caressing her temple. “How about if I keep you happy instead?”

  Her heart soared, and unshed tears stung at her eyes. Unable to speak around the tightening of her throat, she tenderly touched his cheek, delighting in the warmth and strength of him beneath her fingertips. He wanted to make her happy, but what more could he do to make her any happier than she was at that moment, at that simply wonderful, perfect moment in his arms?

  She felt him hesitate before he added, “As my wife.”

  Her heart stopped. And when it started again, the painful thud tore her breath away. “Pardon?”

  “You can marry me,” he explained quietly, carefully, as if he were afraid she might startle and flee like a doe.

  Stunned, Kate stared at him in disbelief. Marriage? Oh, he was simply mad!

  “We’re meant to be together, Kate. Tonight proves that.”

  She shook her head, and the happiness humming inside her melted into misery. To be his wife—but she couldn’t accept. Wouldn’t accept. The sacrifices she’d be asked to make would be too great for a man who hadn’t admitted to loving her…her home, her medicine, her life. Her heart. He wasn’t offering marriage; he was presenting an impossible choice.

  He reached to stroke her cheek, but she pulled back, suddenly afraid to let him touch her.

  He frowned at her reaction. “Don’t you want to be with me, Kate?”

  “Yes,” she answered honestly, so softly there was no sound.

  Of course she wanted to be with him, but at what cost—marriage to him or her freedom? She wouldn’t make the same mistake her mother had and marry a man who did not love her. She wouldn’t surrender her life, not when she’d already lost her heart.

  She pressed her hand against her chest, which burned with the anguish and misery of grief, and she inhaled sharply, knowing his heartbreaking response even as she whispered, “But you don’t love me.”

  “And you don’t love me,” he countered evenly.

  But she did. How could she not love this man, who protected her and promised to keep her safe, who both teased and infuriated her, who made her feel beautiful and wanted? Yet she could never tell him, not as long as he didn’t share those feelings. And she wouldn’t marry him unless he did. A married woman’s life belonged solely to her husband to control, her heart his to wound, her body his to beat or rape, and a man who did not love his wife had little incentive to be kind. Her father had proven that.

  Edward wasn’t her father, but for all that he’d promised to protect her and made being in his arms so very special, he did not love her.

  “Besides, we might not have a choice.” He raised a brow. “You might have gotten with child.”

  With a gasp, she covered her belly with her hands, as if a baby were certainly there. But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be—but the panic inside her only grew. “I won’t enter a loveless marriage, Edward.”

  He gave a gentle shake of his head. “If you are carrying the Strathmore heir—”

  “I’m not.”

  “If you are,” he repeated, his calm voice only making the emotions churn faster inside her, “we will marry, whether you want to or not.”

  “I’m not,” she forced out, somehow finding the strength to boldly meet his dark gaze. “So there is no point in continuing this conversation.”

  She began to scramble from the bed, but he grabbed her arm and tugged her back to him.

  “Kate,” he said gently, “I am asking you to be my duchess—”

  “I won’t give up my medical work.” She latched on to the feeble excuse in order to avoid telling him the truth—and oh, how pathetic he would think her if he knew! That she was willing to give up the possibility of a future with him because she foolishly believed in love. Rather, because she knew the devastating consequences of its absence. She pushed against his chest, even now mindful not to hurt his wound. “I can’t be both your wife and a doctor, we both know that. No respectable gentleman would let his wife be around diseases and half-dressed male patients, or even be a midwife. Certainly not a duke. There would be gossip and cuts and—”

  “No, you can’t be both,” he agreed solemnly. “A duchess as a doctor would be too scandalous.”

  She’d put him into an impossible situation, she knew. For all that Edward was nothing like other English peers, he still carried the weight of the Westover reputation on his shoulders, and giving in to her impossible demand to be a doctor was too much, even for him.

  “Then I won’t be your duchess.” She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t see in her expression the unbearable anguish and utter desolation tearing at her heart.

  But he took her face and forced her to look at him. “It’s only because of that, then?” he pressed, his dark eyes flickering as they searched her face for answers. “Because you won’t give up your medicine.”

  She drew a deep breath and lied, “Yes.”

  He cursed sharply, and she saw the frustration rise instantly in him, the anger smoldering beneath. He shoved himself off the bed and snatched up his trousers, yanked them on, and angrily fastened them.

  “I’m so sorry, but I cannot marry you, Edward,” she whispered, her heart breaking.

  “You will.” His quiet words were an order, but she heard the softer pleading underneath. “Because you might not be willing to give up being a doctor, angel.” He placed his hands on the mattress and leaned over her, his eyes burning with determination as he lowered his face level with hers. “But I’m not willing to give up you.”

  His mouth captured hers in a fierce kiss. There was no tenderness in him, no persuasion; his kiss was predatory and possessive, making no mistake that he’d branded her with his body and claimed her for his, and now he wanted all of her, body and soul.

  But what Kate wanted, she could never have, because what she wanted was simply everything—a home, her medical work, and Edward’s love.

  She would never marry for anything less. Not even to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  You’re certain Benton followed them?” Edward’s eyes flicked away from the former sergeant standing before his desk to glance toward Nathaniel Grey as he leaned back against the windowsill. It had been a fortnight since Hedley first saw Benton spying on the two women on Bond Street and reported it to Grey and Edward, and Phillip Benton’s activities troubled both of them. Today, he’d been spotted following them through Hyde Park. “Was there any contact between them?”

  “No, Colonel, none,” Hedley assured him. The man Grey hired to keep watch on Benton’s every move had served with them in the Scarlet Scoundrels and was completely trustworthy. “He never got close enough. Don’t think they saw ’im at all.”

  “But he saw them.” Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand against his sore shoulder.

  Hedley paused, choosing his words carefully. “Can’t be certain, sir. If he did, ’e didn’t react none.”

  No—Benton knew Augusta and Kate were there, Edward had no doubt. What he didn’t know was what the man hoped to gain.

  “Most likely coincidental.”

  Edward frowned. Too much coincidence for comfort. “Anything else unusual?”

  “Nothin’, sir.”

  “If he follows the countess or Miss Benton again, tell me immediately.” His eyes flicked to Grey. “And Litchfield?”

  “He caught a ship for America.” Grey grinned. “With a little help.”

  Edward grimaced. “Do I want to know the nature of that help?”

  “No, sir.” Grey’s eyes met his, wholly unrepentant. “I don’t think you do.”

  Hedley spoke up, “Anythin’ else, then, Colonel?”

  “Not for now.” Edward stood and handed Hedley his payment. “But keep a close watch. He got by us with Litchfield. I don’t trust him not to try something again.”

  When Hedley nodded, Grey added, “We could help him to America, too.”

  The thought of
Phillip Benton shackled and impressed onto a ship bound for the ends of the earth was appealing. Damnably appealing. And for a moment, as his eyes met Grey’s and he saw the man arch a brow in silent suggestion, he considered it strongly, then shook his head. “You can’t guarantee he’d stay there.”

  “Actually, sir.” Hedley cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I think we might could help ’im w’ that, too.”

  Edward knew exactly what kind of help Hedley implied, and he couldn’t let that happen, no matter how tempting. “Just keep watching him. He knows we caught him scheming with Litchfield. Perhaps that will be enough to keep him in line.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll track ’im down right now.” Hedley gave him a smart salute.

  Edward hesitated before returning it. He was no longer an officer, but he wouldn’t deny that he missed army life or the dedication of men like Hedley.

  When the ex-sergeant left, Edward crossed to the liquor cabinet to pour two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Grey. It was too early in the evening to start drinking, but he didn’t care. The news Hedley had brought of Benton stalking Augusta and Kate rattled him and only reinforced what he knew to be true—Benton was dangerous.

  “Tell me the truth, Grey.” Edward frowned into his whiskey. “What was Benton doing in Hyde Park?”

  “I think he was plotting out what to do next. And he will do something. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “You think I should send him a message, then, to fall in line?”

  Grey tossed back half the glass in a single, gasping swallow. “I think you should let him go.”

  But Edward would never do that. He would never release Benton from his control. “He’s already had me shot. What else can he do to me?”

  “Next time not miss.”