by Diana Quincy
He’d come to realize it didn’t matter if Willa were no longer innocent. Bellingham was a villain who could have easily manipulated a young girl into a regrettable indiscretion. But she hadn’t let it defeat her and he admired her for that. Willa carried herself with pride and self-worth. He thought of the way her eyes sparkled when an idea intrigued her mind, and of the cutting sense of humor she often kept hidden.
His all-encompassing desire for her had come to eclipse everything, even her questionable virtue. His body ached for her almost constantly, with a raw intensity which meant Hart would marry Willa any way he could get her. And he would kill to protect her. But what of the lady? Perhaps part of her still wanted Bellingham, particularly if he’d taken her innocence. The thought of it made Hart’s chest burn.
He refocused on his target and gently squeezed the trigger. This time with perfect aim.
“Good shot,” said Cam admiringly. “You were dead on point.” Unable to summon the enthusiasm to continue, Hart quit. He and Cam left the other gentlemen to the shooting practice and headed back to the house.
“The house party concludes in a few days,” Cam said as they walked. “I thought perhaps we should announce your betrothal at the ball.”
The ball. Just a few days from now. Hart shot his friend a sidelong glance. “My future duchess appears somewhat reticent.”
Cam set his jaw. “She has consented. I’m certain Willa will not betray her word.” He looked over at his friend. “She appears to take pleasure in your company these last days. Am I mistaken?”
Hart gritted his teeth. How to explain? “No, you are not. Nonetheless, the situation still needs to be attended to. I shall see to it immediately.”
…
Willa stood by the window in the drawing room which overlooked the garden. She pretended to listen to Mother chatting with Lady Rawdon, but anxious thoughts crowded her mind. The earl had departed shortly after their walk and would soon return expecting her answer. She’d yet to think of a way to avoid succumbing to his ultimatum. Her friends could not be ruined because of her. She would not allow it.
A hush descended upon the room and Willa realized the duke had entered. He strode with purpose, his strong jaw set. Hart’s determined manner made him appear all the more formidable. Her heart flickered at the sight of his dark hair and the sharp cut angles of his face. Especially when she remembered that fiery kiss by the pond. Impeccably turned out as usual, he dressed in a gentleman’s simple country clothes, yet his air of easy authority enhanced the crisp white shirt, fawn-colored breeches, and gleaming riding boots. Despite his civilized manner and attire, the duke had a hint of danger about him today. Hart greeted the group with polite words, exchanging enough niceties to be appropriate before turning to Willa and offering his arm.
“Will you join me for a walk in the gardens, Lady Wilhelmina?” It was not really a question. His smooth tone was underscored by a steely determination that made him hard to refuse. Even if she wanted to.
“Of course,” she replied in her usual reserved public manner. She turned to the others. “Will you join us? The flowers are quite beautiful this time of year.” They all declined, sensibly concluding the duke would not welcome their company. Many of the guests stole a look at the couple as Hart escorted Willa from the room. Her mother positively beamed.
They walked in silence as they headed to the flower gardens. Willa’s heart moved faster. She felt very physically aware of herself…and of him. She shook the thoughts away. She must not allow herself to be drawn to this man. Her course was set. Panic welled at the idea of wedding Augustus. But what else could she do? Her friends would not be ruined because of her. She must steel herself and become accustomed to the notion of being the earl’s countess—as intolerable as that sounded.
They reached the garden and turned to stroll down one of its many paths. The sweet smell of the flowers flanking the pathway hung in the air. Many were now in full bloom, providing bursts of color along their path.
Hart finally broke the silence. “Camryn intends to announce our betrothal at the ball.”
Willa’s stomach rolled with dread. There was no way out. “I’m afraid I must decline your offer.”
He stilled beside her. “I see. Do you think Camryn will allow you to remain unwed after what occurred between us?”
“No.” She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. “I am to be a bride, just not yours.”
“Bellingham?” A sharp intake of breath. “You’ve accepted his suit after all?”
“I have no choice in the matter.”
“Wrong, my dear. You do have a choice and you’ve made it.” Controlled anger tinged his voice. “At least admit to it.”
She inhaled and met his intense gaze. “The earl knows about my involvement in the coffee house.”
His forehead shot up. “You shared the information with him?”
“Hardly. He set someone to spy upon me.” She expelled a shaky breath. “He’s threatening to use the information against my friends.”
“But not against you?”
“I could withstand his assault on my character, but I cannot allow him to do the same to my friends. Their reputations are unimpeachable.”
“Unlike yours.” His face darkened. “And that bastard means to use it against you. What has he asked of you?”
“He wishes to marry. He expects my answer upon his return from Town.”
“I see.” His tone emerged harsher than he intended. “Is that what you intend to do?”
It felt as if a fist was lodged in her throat. “I will not let him destroy my friends.”
Dark eyes burned into her face. His warm, clean, masculine smell stole over her. “Perhaps your heart lies with Gus.”
“It does not.” She struggled to keep the rising panic out of her tone. “I have no choice in the matter.”
His sharp features firmed. “Then I won’t allow you to cry off.”
As if either of them had a choice in the matter. “I have faced the humiliation of a tainted reputation. I cannot subject good women to it.”
“No harm will come to them. I will see to it.”
“How?”
“I do own of the building in which the coffee house is situated.”
Her heart sank. “The sale is complete then?”
“It is. I received the papers this morning.”
“I fail to see how purchasing the building can protect the reputations of my friends.” The words were cool. “Your acquisition does not seem to serve any purpose other than to deprive hardworking women of their livelihood.”
“Since I will no longer accept rent from the coffee house, it ceases to be a profit-making enterprise. As the Duchess of Hartwell, it will be your first charitable endeavor.”
“My first charitable endeavor?” Confusion clouded her mind. “You aren’t forcing the coffee house to close?”
“No. I have reconsidered. It is a worthy enterprise, one that is important to you and, as such, important to me as well.”
She stared at him, her throat aching with feeling as his words sank in. “You would do that for me?”
“You are to be my duchess.” Earnest eyes held hers. “It is my duty to protect you and to ensure your future happiness.”
A kernel of relief began to unfurl in her chest. “It might work.”
“Never underestimate the considerable influence of the Duchess of Hartwell.” His eyes twinkled. “Adopting a philanthropic endeavor is all the rage among the ton.”
She turned it over in her mind. “Your solution allows for the coffee house to remain open while also protecting my friends’ good names.”
“I shall make certain of it,” he said. “You will be at the height of fashion. Everyone will talk about how clever you are. They’ll scramble to find their own pet cause.”
The weight in her chest eased a bit. It could work. It might save her from the earl. But at what cost to Hart? “It is too much to ask of you.”
His dark brows d
rew together. “Nonsense.”
“It does not change what is between us.” Or isn’t between us. “I don’t wish to have a husband who does not esteem me.”
His eyes widened. “Of course I esteem you.”
“You find my morals to be so lacking that you anticipate that I shall be an unfaithful wife.” Her defiant tone challenged him to dispute her. “You have made your disdain for my character quite clear.”
“The truth is that I have wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
She understood how he wanted her. “Like a man wants a strumpet, not with the care one feels for a wife.”
Hart’s face flushed. Taking her hand in his large, masculine grip, he directed her to a bench. “You are very direct, so I will not dissemble with you.” He urged her down beside him. “I not only welcome the idea of possessing you in every way, I hunger for it.”
She’d been right. Tears blurred her vision. She rose, but Hart’s warm strong hand clasped hers, preventing her from leaving.
“The truth is also that I believe you will make a fine wife and mother,” he continued. “I admire your strength of character. You have a keen mind and sharp sense of humor that I should like to see in my offspring.”
“Truly?” Her chest swelled with feeling and tears of a different sort threatened now.
He nodded, a devilish glint entering his eyes. “Although you can be tiresomely stubborn, conversing with you is far more enjoyable than with anyone else of my acquaintance.”
Delight jolted her. He preferred her company to anyone else’s. She gazed into the gardens, processing his response. He esteemed her as a person. And there was certainly plenty of passion between them. She’d already experienced his heady desire for her. Perhaps he did not find her beautiful and he certainly hadn’t given her his heart, but they still had more common ground between them than in most society marriages. She squelched a lingering pang of disappointment. She had hoped for more, for love, yet Hart had been honest. He’d made no empty pronouncements about love. And he’d pledged not to be unfaithful.
She would be married to a man whose self-assuredness and raw charisma appealed to her. Oh, he could be infuriating, but it dawned on her that she liked the challenge of talking to him, of being able to match wits with him. He had undeniable charm and an appealing tendency towards easy laughter. Marriage to the Duke of Hartwell promised benefits that outweighed any negatives.
“Thank you for your candor.” She chose her words with care. “If that is truly how you perceive our future, than I would be unwise to object to such an arrangement. It seems as though we might suit after all.”
A delighted grin opened up across Hart’s face. “Well then, that appears to settle the matter. Shall we?” He rose and offered his arm. Willa stood and placed her arm in the crook of his elbow. She felt a warm satisfaction when he placed his other hand somewhat possessively over hers, making her feel safe and treasured.
“Tell me more of India,” she said as they walked. “Have you visited the Taj Mahal?”
His eyes warmed. “My future duchess is full of surprises. What do you know of the Taj Mahal?”
“I find India fascinating. There are many stories in the Times recently about the East India Company’s charter being renewed.”
“Not only is my betrothed wife undeniably lovely, but she has a curious mind as well.”
Willa’s heart beat a little faster. “Stop making sport of me.” She gave his arm a light tap. “You are fortunate to be able to travel to whatever faraway lands capture your fancy.” It was something an unmarried lady in her position could only dream of.
“Very well. The Taj Mahal. It is in the city of Agra. They say it is a tribute to lost love. A mogul emperor built it as a testament of love to his favorite wife. She died bearing their fourteenth child.” He paused and looked at her. “Perhaps I shall build a monument to you after our first child is born.”
Their first child. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. What a romantic notion. “Have you seen it?”
“The taj mahal? Yes. It is also their tomb. They are buried there together.” He stopped and gave her a thoughtful look, the sun’s shadows falling across the sharp lines of his face. “It reminds me of you.”
“Me?” Was he comparing her to a building? “Strong and stable perhaps?”
He laughed. “Hardly. The Taj Mahal is made of a white marble unlike anything you’ve even seen. When the sun shines down on it, the place literally glows.” His eyes lingered over her face. “You have that quality. You truly seem to radiate from within. It is most enchanting.”
The unexpected caress of his voice and intimacy of his tone made Willa’s stomach tingle. He tilted his head down toward her and brushed his lips against hers. This kiss was hot, gentle and excruciatingly intimate. Her lips, soft and welcoming, parted for him and his tongue glided against hers in long tantalizing strokes. His intimate taste was warm and delicious, thoroughly masculine, and the impact of the kiss showered through her, leaving her weightless, as though she were both falling and floating.
“Oh, my lord, may I be of service?”
Recognizing the voice of Harry, the lead gardener at Camryn Park, Willa pulled away with a rush of horror. Beyond the hedgerow came Cam’s answering voice.
“No, not at all, Harry.” She froze, a cold rush of fear pumping through her veins. She couldn’t see them, but their voices suggested they weren’t far.
“I was boasting of our exceptional flower garden to our guests.” Cam’s voice sounded closer now.
“We seem to have a knack for getting caught in compromising situations.” Frustration and dark amusement warred on Hart’s flushed face as he tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Although I shouldn’t mind being forced to push up the wedding.”
Chapter Ten
Willa slipped into the library for a few moments of solitude, reluctant to join the other ladies who were gossiping and doing needlework in one of the public rooms. She settled into a comfortable chair by the fire and opened her book. It wasn’t long before a short rap on the door interrupted her.
The door pushed open and Hart sauntered in, his eyes going to the book in her lap. “I thought I might find you hiding in here. Wollstonecraft again?”
Smiling in welcome, she nodded and put the book aside as he approached. The duke wore a linen shirt open at the neck, revealing a dusting of small dark curls. His muscular thighs were gloved in fawn breeches.
He came to stand in front of her chair, causing her pulse to ratchet up. “Wollstonecraft was quite the adventurer. She had children without the benefit of marriage. Lived with the man she loved.” He bent closer, placing a hand on each armrest, his face just a hair’s breadth from hers, his eyes like black velvet. “Tell me, Willa, are you adventurous?”
She swallowed, her nerve endings enthralled by his closeness and the clean masculine smell thickening the air.
“Wollstonecraft speaks of a woman’s passion being like that of a man’s.” His eyes glowed. “Do you agree?”
“I cannot say I have fully experienced a man’s passion,” she said, feeling decidedly lightheaded. “Or my own for that matter.”
Hart’s eyes flashed in a way that made desire pool at the bottom of her belly. “I will endeavor to change that, my dear. We will have to mount a full exploration.”
The back of Willa’s neck prickled. He lowered his lips on hers, loving her mouth with light teasing kisses. She parted her lips to receive him. His tongue stroked inside with a seductive, flirtatious rhythm. Willa felt her skirt being lifted and then Hart’s warm hand on her bare thigh at the top of her stocking. She froze.
“Are you willing to fully explore a woman’s passion?” He watched her face as his finger skimmed the top of her thigh. “Solely in the interest of scholarship, of course. To test Miss Wollstonecraft’s theories.”
Heat flushed through her. How was it possible that she ached for his touch—down there of all places? “Perhaps
when we are married—”
He chuckled against her ear and it rippled through her. “Not a forward thinking answer at all. What would Miss Wollstonecraft say?” His tongue slid inside her ear. “Tell me to stop and I shall.” Willa closed her eyes, captive to the sensual uproar raging inside her, unable to bear the thought of him stopping.
He obviously took her silence as permission to go forward. Straightening, he strode to the door and threw it shut. He pushed a heavy wooden table up against it. He turned and looked at her with gleaming eyes. Striding over, he lifted her without warning, carrying her to the table that now barred the door. He sat her on it, his lips coming down on hers.
“Now I am quite compromised,” she murmured through his kisses.
“You shall be thoroughly so once I’m done with you.” His fingers feathered along her inner thigh. Willa reflexively squeezed her legs together.
“Open your legs,” he said softly, licking her ear, making her tremble. “Do not deny me.” His lips came back to hers, consuming her again. His hands gently pushed her legs apart while his fingers still moved enticingly along them.
Willa’s heart thumped through her body. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, relaxing her legs as the insistent throbbing between her thighs grew all encompassing.
Hart’s unrelenting lips, soft and hot, moved along her neck with caressing kisses. His fingers brushed her most intimate area. She stiffened, embarrassed by the dampness he must feel there.
“Not such an ice queen after all.” He seemed delighted. His clever fingers probed her folds, his breath coming out in short hard bursts. “You are perfect.” He knelt, shocking her by kissing her intimate area.
Startled, she pushed him away. “Hart, do you—? Is it—?” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought.
“Let me love you here, Willa,” he said, kissing her there again. She bit back a scream of shock and pleasure when she felt the moist probing of his tongue moving lightly up and down along the length of her womanhood. He paused before delving his tongue inside of her. An intense tremor rocked her. She shivered and tried to move away from the delicious intensity, but Hart caught her, holding her hips as his tongue latched onto a spot that seemed to have a million nerve endings.
