by Erica Ridley
What if they could have this every night and every day? They needn’t wait until Fit for a Duke was delivered to every breakfast table in England.
As soon as his presentation was over and the duke’s investment safely transferred, Calvin could offer Belle a secure future in addition to passionate nights. He could not tell her his plans yet—only once his company was on solid footing would he have the means to sway her from one night of pleasure to all the rest of the nights; a lifetime of pleasure.
He would make himself a catch worthy of her. Then there would be no more need for good-byes.
Chapter 13
Belle pressed her knuckles to her lips to contain the gasps of pleasure coming from her mouth, but it was no use. Her arms fell bonelessly to her sides, her head lolling helplessly into his pillow. Calvin knelt between her thighs, his mouth and tongue feasting on her in ways she’d never known possible.
She was no stranger to the delicious pressure building inside her. Her fingers had found this spot before, had brought her to the edge and over, but never like this. She felt splayed open and worshipped, vulnerable and powerful.
He could do anything at all, and she would let him, would beg him not to stop. But all he wanted was to bring her pleasure. To devour her until she could no longer think, no longer feel the soft pillow or the woolen blanket or the cool air against her bared limbs because nothing else existed but his tongue and his fingers and the building, building pressure. Yes, right there, exactly like that, she was going to—
She fractured into a thousand pieces, her muscles convulsing, her legs trapping him to her, then falling limp to his shoulders. She should be sated. She was sated. But her body was greedy and wanted more, wanted him. She wanted everything. Even if all they could have was one last stolen moment.
Especially because all they had was tonight.
She could count their remaining hours on her fingertips. It was not enough, but it would have to be. She would make it so. Tomorrow he would pursue his dreams and she would return to obedience and duty, but in this precise moment they still had each other, and she was far from ready to let him go.
She reached for him to pull him to her, but he would not be rushed. He pressed lazy, openmouthed kisses to the crease of her thigh, to the curve of her hip, to the dip at her waist, to the valley between her breasts, to the peak of her nipple.
Only when she could feel the pressure rising within her once more did she realize his hand was between her legs, teasing her with sensual promises the same way his mouth and teeth and tongue did to her breasts and nipples. She wanted more. She wanted it all.
When she could feel herself rising close to the crest again, she tugged him to her. “Calvin— I want—”
He needed no explanation. His eyes glowed in the moonlight; his body hotter than any fire. He eased himself from her just long enough to cast his trousers off the edge of the bed and then he was back, hotter than before, harder, bigger. He positioned himself at her entrance, the hard, pulsing length of him rubbing where his fingers and tongue had been, making the same wicked promise.
She was through with promises. She wanted action; she wanted life. She wanted it to be him.
His mouth was hot on hers, but he broke the kiss long enough to say, “Are you certain?”
Her heart clanged as she nodded.
That was sweet of him, to ask. He thought her a worldly widow, and nonetheless wanted to be sure she—
He drove inside with one long thrust and Belle could not keep her cry of pain and surprise trapped inside her throat.
He froze at once, his face filled with alarm. “Am I... Are you...”
“I’m fine,” she managed, and it was almost true. Already the initial pain was a dull ache, leaving her instead with a not unpleasant sensation of fullness and promise. “It’s just... It’s been a while since...”
A long while like never, but she didn’t want him to stop now. She didn’t want to explain herself, didn’t want the guilt, the recriminations, the weight of who she was supposed to be and what sort of man she was and was not supposed to want.
She didn’t want any regrets at all, because for her there would not be any. There was no one else she would rather lie with, no one else worth saving herself for. All other men would have to live up to him, not the other way round. And she would forever find them lacking. No one could ever replace Calvin.
He began to move, slowly, carefully, eyes open and fixed on hers.
He need not worry. The only ache left now was the one he’d built with his mouth and fingers. A swirling, rising, pressure that stoked higher with every stroke. Her hips found the rhythm, and she wrapped her legs about him to meet him again and again, intermingling deep and slow with fast and hungry. Their kisses were just as ravenous.
Oh, how were they ever meant to limit themselves to just one night? She wanted all his nights, all his days, in his bedchamber and out. She wanted to breathe in the same air, feel the same sun on her skin, share the same meals. She wanted to wake up every morning in his arms and return to bed every night just like this, their bodies joined together, their hands and mouths insatiable for each other.
There didn’t exist a number of nights that could ever be enough. No quantity of days or months or years could extinguish the impression he had made in her heart, a mold that only he could fit.
Here came the crest again—this time, he would ride it with her. She gripped him close, their kisses punctuated by gasps as her muscles contracted around him. At the last pulse, he jerked his hips from hers as his seed spilled hot against her thigh.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, away from the wet proof of their lovemaking and into his warm, solid embrace. He held her close, his breathing as labored as hers, his heartbeat just as thunderous.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, then lay his cheek against the spot he’d kissed and cradled her close. She had never felt so precious, so cherished. She did not trust herself to speak, lest she say words that must forever remain unspoken.
Despite her very best efforts, she loved him, would always love him. That it was forbidden did not dampen her ardor. He was in her arms, inside her body, and still she longed for more. For forever.
She couldn’t keep him, of course she knew that. Her family would be apoplectic at the very idea. Her reputation! The family’s good name! Nor would she put Calvin through the hell the Nottingvale family would rain down upon him for daring to steal a kiss, much less her heart. It would be the end of Calvin’s dreams, not the beginning of a new life. The best thing she could do for him, for them both, was walk away and never look back.
But not until morning. She would not allow the fate of their births to steal a single extra moment.
She awoke in his arms, the pink light of dawn caressing them both.
His heartbeat was slow and steady, his muscular form warm and familiar. She wanted to wake him up and make love all over again, to carry the secret ache between her legs with her when she left, like a brand marking her as his.
But she was not his, and they were out of time.
Dawn meant Ursula would awaken at any moment, and hurry upstairs to help her mistress into her carriage dress for the journey ahead. Belle could not allow her maid to arrive and find the chamber empty. They had to leave without raising any eyebrows at all.
She slipped from Calvin’s arms and padded about the room as quietly as possible, retying her stockings, slipping on her chemise, struggling with the gown she’d worn in the hopes of dazzling him into bed.
“Come here.” His voice was gruff, indulgent.
She whirled to face him, her cheeks heating. How long had he been watching her? Was it possible he had not been sleeping at all, but just lying there, holding her to his chest in silence as the sun poked above the evergreens?
She presented him with her spine as she’d done every morning and every evening since her arrival, but this time on shaking legs. She could not be near him without wanting to kiss him, to press her b
ody into his, to fall back onto the mattress and forget whatever it was the sunrise wished to demand of her.
When the last button slipped into place, she stepped away from him rather than into his embrace. It was time to say good-bye. The distance between them would soon be insurmountable.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”
He frowned and rose from the edge of the bed. His lack of clothing did not make him look naked, but rather more powerful, more dangerous. Irresistible.
She would have to be strong.
“It’s morning,” she babbled. “I have to go.”
“Do you?” He was suddenly right before her, touching his thumb to her cheekbone.
She swallowed. “My maid will arrive soon. I must... I must go.”
“Will you be back for breakfast? You can bring Ursula.” His finger traced the outer shell of her ear. “I promise not to ravish you until the next time we’re alone.”
She took a deep breath. “There won’t be a next time. This is good-bye.”
“For now,” he agreed, and took her hands in his. “Belle—”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t say it.”
“I’m not in a position to offer marriage—”
She opened her eyes, sagging in relief.
“—but I will be soon,” he continued, his gaze earnest and unwavering. “Thanks to all your help, I know our presentation will be a success. Once we’ve secured the Duke of Nottingvale’s investment and endorsement, Fit for a Duke can provide—”
“No,” she said. “I mean, yes. Fit for a Duke will be a smashing success and so will you. But I cannot be part—”
“You won’t be part, Belle.” His eyes were fierce, but his thumbs tender against the backs of her trembling hands. “You’re everything. Once the company is stable, it won’t require much of my time. If you don’t like my cottage, I’ll be able to afford a bigger one, with a parlor dedicated exclusively to your art, or whatever it is that would please you most. I don’t just want to provide for you. I want us to—”
It sounded lovely.
It was impossible.
“No. I...” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not just me, it’s...”
“Oh.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ve been insensitive. Forgive me. I’m not trying to replace your first husband, Belle. Your memories with him—”
“Stop,” she choked out. This could not go on any longer.
He was proposing to a better version of herself than even existed. There was absolutely no reason at all for Mrs. Lépine not to leap into his arms with eager acceptance. He was everything she could want in a husband, first or second or otherwise.
But she was not Mrs. Lépine. She was the daughter of a duke, the sister of a duke, the despair of the current duchess of Nottingvale.
She would hurt Calvin more by keeping up the charade of being an independent widow who could make choices on her own without having to consider their impact on a centuries-long dynasty. Mrs. Lépine was free to say yes, which would make her no sting all the worse.
Belle was not free. She had never been free. And now she’d gone too far. It was past time to be honest with him. Once he knew the truth, he would no longer want her. She had a talent for disappointing the people she loved most.
“I know I am not the finest catch at the moment. But as soon as I can give you the life you deserve, I want to be the man who does it.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “Will you think about it?”
Belle would think about this moment for the rest of her life. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Calvin... there’s something you should know.”
Chapter 14
Calvin brushed a stray wisp of hair from Belle’s cheek. There was something she felt he should know?
“I think I know what it is,” he said gently, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed sooner. “I didn’t realize you were a virgin until it was too late, and I was already inside you. Forgive me, Belle. It never occurred to me that you and the late Mr. Lépine did not consummate—”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “That’s not it at all.” The blush spread further. “That is to say, yes, I was a virgin, but not due to any failure to consummate on Mr. Lépine’s part.”
He frowned. “Then how—”
“There is no Mr. Lépine,” she burst out, her face miserable. “I’m not a widow. I’ve never been married. I’m—”
He dropped his hand from her cheek. “You lied to me?”
“I lied to the proprietress.” She swallowed visibly. “And yes, to you, and to everyone in this posting house, because the only way to keep one’s reputation intact is with the constant presence of a maid—or by not requiring one. Ursula was in the sickroom and there was no one else to play chaperone, so I lied about my name out of desperation.”
Calvin scrubbed his face. Well, there. That wasn’t so dreadful a fib, was it?
Her alleged widowhood hadn’t protected her virtue last night in his bed, but as far as the rest of the posting house knew, nothing untoward had occurred. Her quick thinking had worked. Nor did it change his feelings—or his intentions—toward Belle. He was no less in love with Miss Lépine as he had been with Mrs. Lépine.
Yet something she’d said niggled at him.
“You lied about your name?” he echoed slowly. “Or just your marital status?”
“I’m still Belle,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes until, suddenly, she did, as if rallying courage. “There are no Lépines. I am Lady Isabelle.”
“Lady... who?” Calvin took a step back, suddenly aware of his nakedness.
The name did not sound familiar, but then why would it? He was no aristocrat. The only dealings he’d had with the ladies of the ton had been when he’d helped his mother design their trousseaux over a decade ago. He’d never bothered keeping up with the names and titles in Debrett’s Peerage because he didn’t rub shoulders with the nobs, nor did he wish to. Their worlds did not intersect.
Until now.
“Lady Isabelle,” he repeated, the syllables sticking to the roof of his mouth like ash.
He had let her see every tiny hidden part of himself, and she hadn’t even been honest about her name.
She wasn’t who he’d thought she was. No, it was worse than that. She inhabited a world he could only ape. She was silk and gold and diamonds, and he was a cheap facsimile. And she’d known it all along.
Calvin had fallen in love, but Lady Isabelle had merely been on holiday. He was a lark, nothing more. She’d been amusing herself with the hapless tailor since that first shared pie, playacting at “commoner” until the snow cleared enough for her to return to her ivory tower.
Of course she had said no to his mangled proposal. She had known from the start that what they had meant nothing at all.
He snatched his trousers up from the floor and shoved his leg into the wrinkled nankeen.
“You’re angry,” she said hesitantly.
He sent her a dark look as he bent to scoop up his shirt.
She wrung her hands. “It’s worse than that.”
He pulled on his shirt in silence.
“Calvin—”
“Your plan was to walk away and never see each other again, wasn’t it? Then there’s no need for any more drawn out confessions.”
“Just one more,” she said in a small voice. “I thought it might be prudent for you to know that I’m... the Duke of Nottingvale’s sister.”
He staggered backward as though each word had pummeled his solar plexus.
“You thought it prudent for me to know that I despoiled the Duke of Nottingvale’s virgin sister?” His stomach dipped as gooseflesh rippled across his suddenly clammy skin. “Why wasn’t this information prudent yesterday, before I had you naked in my bed?”
She stared at him in misery. “I... I wanted...”
“You wanted,” he spat. “Of course you did. You were raised to only care about your wants, and damn anyone else. I was a toy, no
t a person. And now you’ve ruined both of us.”
“I didn’t know you’d want to make an honest woman of me!” she burst out.
“I’m not sure anyone could do that,” he said coldly. He had never felt so foolish.
She thought he would take her and forget her, as she had intended to do with him. It was what she’d wanted.
He raked a trembling hand through his hair. It was over. Not just his affair with “Mrs. Lépine” but Fit for a Duke and all it entailed. Belle hadn’t stopped with merely breaking his heart. She’d managed to destroy his life’s dream for good measure.
“I suppose you’ll be at the party,” he said dully.
Another fortnight under the same roof, but this time under the watchful eye of one of the most powerful men in England. Jonathan was depending upon him to bring the materials for the presentation, and Nottingvale was relying on him not to despoil his little sister along the way.
There was no way Calvin could go.
“Party?” Belle stammered. “My brother invited you... to stay for Yuletide...”
“Merry Christmas to us all,” Calvin said flatly. “The investment will be off once the duke finds out—”
“He can’t find out.” Her eyes were wild. “I’ll never tell him. His reaction would be nothing compared to my mother’s. She’d never forgive me for sullying the family with… scandal.”
Wonderful. Exactly the reaction a man hoped for upon proposing marriage.
Proof that he was of no more value than a clump of mud stuck to her shoe. He was in pain, angry and numb at the realization that everything he’d worked for had disappeared the moment he’d taken her into his arms. He’d hoped they could forge a new future.
Now there would be nothing at all.
“We won’t have to tell him,” Calvin said with a sigh. “He’ll know. We cannot possibly keep up the charade of total strangers whilst trapped under the same roof for an entire fortnight. You might be that talented of an actress, but I am not.”
