If the Duke Demands

by Anna Harrington

  He smiled against her temple. Last night had been one surprise after another, from the moment he’d walked into the room and found her waiting for him to the quiet way she’d admitted that she loved him.

  She loved him…Good God. He still couldn’t believe it. Not only had she dared to utter the words, but he could taste it in her kisses and feel it in the way she’d made herself so vulnerable to him. No woman had ever told him that before or made love to him like that, with so much affection behind the passion.

  But then, no other woman was Miranda.

  He had no idea what he was going to do about her or about his own growing feelings for her. Selfishly, he didn’t want to think about the future. At that moment as she lay sleeping next to him, all warm and deliciously bed-rumpled, smelling intoxicatingly of roses and the sweet musk of sex, he was at peace. He was happy, happier than he’d ever been in his life. And he didn’t want to acknowledge the world beyond his bedroom door.

  She stirred in her sleep and shifted closer until her bottom rested snugly against his hips. Slipping his arms around her, he smiled against her hair as she awoke with a long, soft sigh.

  “Sebastian,” she whispered, rolling onto her back, her body still warm and pliant with sleep.

  “Good morning, Rose,” he murmured. Then he shifted over on top of her and was rewarded with the sight of her breasts displayed deliciously in the morning light. He lowered his head to place a kiss on her pink nipple.

  “Yes,” she breathed, “good morning.” With her eyes still closed, awake but drifting on the edge of dreamlike sleep, she breathed out another deep sigh and arched her back toward him. “Oh…a very good morning…”

  He chuckled softly. Unable to deny himself from taking even this small pleasure that she so freely offered, he took her nipple between his lips and suckled gently at her. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy this quiet moment when she still belonged completely to him.

  Her body wakened further until she was fully aroused and panting softly. If the way her nipple hardened against his tongue was any indication, she was already craving him inside her again. Good. Because he planned on making love to her once more before he let her out of his bed.

  Reluctantly releasing her from his lips, he raised his head and whispered her name. Her eyes fluttered open, and the happiness he saw in their green depths took his breath away.

  Oh yes, she loved him. And if he wasn’t careful, she’d have him loving her right back.

  She reached up to trace her fingertips over his cheek. “Do you often wake up like this in the morning?”

  “No.” He touched his lips to hers and grinned against her mouth. “But with you, it’s my favorite way.”

  “But you’ve never woken up with me before.”

  He teasingly repeated her words from the opera, “That’s why it’s my favorite.”

  A bubble of laughter escaped her, then she bit her lip with a hint of shy seduction that sent his heart skittering. “Mine, too.”

  Slipping her hand behind his neck to run her fingers through the hair at his nape, she turned her head to glance at the window.

  “It’s after dawn,” she whispered. The happiness on her face faded, and he felt its absence like a blow to his gut. “I should have left hours ago.”

  He nibbled at her throat to distract her and immediately felt her pulse race beneath his lips. Sweet Lucifer, the woman was insatiable, but so was he when he was with her. “I’ll take you home later.” Although his mind was already whirling to come up with a way to keep her right there in his bed for the rest of the day.

  She arched a dubious brow. “And what excuse will we give for why I’m not at Audley House when your mother goes looking for me?”

  He lowered his head to once more kiss at her breasts. “We’ll tell her that her eldest son is a debauched philanderer”—he took her nipple into his mouth and worried it between his teeth until a scrumptious shiver of arousal raked through her—“who kept you chained naked to his bed all night and ravished you insatiably until you begged for mercy.”

  “Oh,” she replied, deadpan. “So the truth, then.”

  He laughed, nuzzling his cheek against her breast and enjoying the scratch of his morning beard against her soft skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much while in bed with a woman, if ever. She was one surprise after—

  The door flung open. Quinton bounded into the room.

  “Thought I’d head to Tattersall’s today and—” He halted and stared. “Dear God, apologies! Thought you’d be alone by now. I’ll just…” He whirled for the door, then stopped. And glanced back. Bewilderment darkened his face. “Miranda?”

  She gave a soft shriek of mortification and pulled the coverlet over her head.

  “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, cold fury speeding through him.

  “But—but—” Quinn stammered, staring in stunned disbelief. “Miranda?”

  “Get the hell out!”

  The door shut with a bang, and Sebastian dragged in a deep breath for control. With concern for Miranda pulsing through him, he slowly pulled down the coverlet, only to find her hands firmly pressed over her face. All of her shook violently.

  “It will be all right,” he told her as gently and reassuringly as possible. “It’s only Quinn. I’ll take care of him.”

  “What will you do?” Her voice was a pained whisper from between her fingers, one that tore into his heart. In her humiliation, she was unable to open her eyes and look at him.

  “I’ll explain everything and swear him to secrecy.” And when that didn’t work, he’d toss his brother’s murdered body into the Thames. “It’s Quinn. He would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “It’s Quinn!” she choked out in exasperation from knowing his brother as well as he did. “When has he ever been able to keep a secret?”

  “Starting now,” he said with conviction. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He slipped out of bed and yanked on his trousers. When he looked back at her as he headed out the door, she’d once again pulled the coverlet over her head. Seeing her like that ripped into his chest, feeling the pain of her humiliation right along with her. And that only fueled his fury as he charged after his brother.

  “Quinton!” he bellowed and raced down the steps.

  He found his youngest brother in the entrance foyer, within steps of slipping out the front door and escaping. Grabbing his arm, he shoved him back against the wall. Anger seethed in every inch of him…anger at Quinton for barging into his room and finding them together, and anger at himself for being so caught up in Miranda that he’d recklessly left the door unlocked.

  “You didn’t see anything,” Sebastian threatened through gritted teeth, his hand clenching at Quinn’s cravat.

  “But Seb…Miranda?” Quinn stared at him incredulously, blinking with visible confusion and surprise. “How long— I mean, when—” In his shock, he stumbled over his thoughts. “For God’s sake! We all grew up together. She played in our nursery until she was twelve.”

  “She isn’t twelve anymore,” he bit out. Christ! Didn’t any of his siblings realize she was a grown woman?

  Quinn lifted a brow. “Obviously.”

  He tightened his hold on Quinn’s collar. “It is none of your business, and she doesn’t deserve to be ruined. If you say one word about this—if Mother or Josie finds out—so help me, Quinton, I will string you up between two trees in Hyde Park and—”

  “I won’t tell them,” he promised, and Sebastian released his hold. “Good Lord, Seb, I would never say anything that could harm her. Or you. You know that.” Quinn shook out his shoulders and pulled at his cravat, heaving out a long breath of irritation that Sebastian would think so little of him. “I like Miranda.”

  He blew out a hard breath, his shoulders sagging as the emotions he felt for her crashed over him. “So do I.”

  Quinton grinned. “Obviously.”

  With a growl, Sebastian shoved him back against
the wall again. “She was never here, and you didn’t see anything,” he slowly forced out, each word a cold warning. “Understand?”

  “She wasn’t here,” Quinn repeated solemnly, knowing not to bait Sebastian again if he valued his life. “And I didn’t see anything.”

  He stepped back, taking a deep breath to steady himself and to figure out what to say to Miranda before he returned upstairs. Dear God, she must have been completely mortified. And now terrified that her reputation would be ruined. To be discovered like that—

  Robert stepped out of the breakfast room and elbowed Quinn in the ribs. “What didn’t you see?”

  “That Seb’s sleeping with Miranda,” Quinn answered immediately.

  Robert blinked in confusion. “Hodgkins?”

  Sebastian’s furious gaze swung between his brothers, not knowing which one of the two to kill first. “Not one word, do you understand?” he threatened, his anger barely controlled as he clenched and released his fists. “Both of you! Not one word about any of this to anyone.”

  “Hodgkins?” Robert repeated, stunned.

  Sebastian rolled his eyes, at that moment wanting to be an only child more than he ever had in his life. “She is a good and kind woman who doesn’t deserve to be hurt because of me. The only mistake she made was trusting me when I have the two of you for brothers.” After all the times they’d covered for one another with women in the past, he prayed he could trust them to protect his privacy one last time. And hers. But just to be certain, he jabbed Quinn in the shoulder, and his brother wisely retreated back against the wall. “Not one word. To anyone. If she’s hurt because of you—”

  “I thought you were hunting a wife,” Robert interrupted, still bewildered.

  “I am.” A swift stab of pain sliced into his chest as he uttered the words, the unbidden flash of betrayal toward Miranda unexpectedly piercing. “That hasn’t changed.”

  Robert frowned. “So you’re marrying Miranda?”

  Quinn grinned. “Mother’s going to faint when she hears this!”

  “She isn’t hearing a word of it, understand?” Sebastian scoured his hand over his face, as if he could physically fight down the churning emotions roiling inside him. Or the guilt that threatened to consume him. The weight of the dukedom came crashing back onto him, and his shoulders sagged beneath the crushing burden of it. Worse, because for a few precious hours last night, he’d tasted happiness, and now he knew how empty his life was going to be going forward without her.

  Robert shook his head, concern for her visible on his face. “But Miranda—”

  “I’m not marrying Miranda,” he ground out, anger pulsing through him as the guilt gave way to desolate wretchedness and overwhelming frustration. Why wouldn’t the two of them shut up about Miranda and marriage?

  “Does Miranda know that?” Quinn pressed.

  “It’s none of your business,” he growled, adding jealousy at Quinn’s concern to the already growing knot of emotion choking the air from his lungs. “And you’ll forget about this, both of you.” He snapped a murderous glance between Robert and Quinn. “I am marrying the daughter of a peer, just as I’ve always intended. Miranda has absolutely nothing to do with that decision. She never has, and she never will, no matter what happened between us.”

  No matter that she made him happy. Or that she loved him, more deeply than any other woman ever had. Or that he knew he’d never have the same depth of peace and comfort again that he’d experienced in her arms.

  She was the orphaned niece of one of his tenants. In truth, no better in social rank than a barmaid, shop girl, seamstress…His father would never have accepted her as duchess.

  He said again for good measure, to convince himself more than his brothers, “Never.”

  Quinn repeated annoyingly, “Does Miranda know that?”

  Robert answered grimly with a nod toward the stairs. “She does now.”

  Sebastian turned and gazed up to find Miranda standing on the top landing, wearing the same driver’s coat she’d worn to the house two nights ago, covering herself from neck to ankle. Only her hair, loose around her shoulders in a riot of strawberry-blond curls, gave any reminder of the way he’d found her when he’d awoken this morning, so sweet and loving. So happy.

  His breath ripped from his chest at the raw pain that radiated from her. Even from two stories away, he could see her green eyes glistening with wounded tears as she stared down at them. The look of betrayal on her face devastated him.

  “Miranda.” His voice was a hoarse rasp of regret. “I didn’t mean—”

  She turned and fled down the hall.

  His gut twisting with remorse, Sebastian rushed up the stairs after her and found her inside his sitting room, her hands shaking fiercely as she quickly pulled back her curls and tied them with the same green ribbon he’d removed from her hair last night. Tears fell down her cheeks even as she kept her face turned away from him in her anguish, and his heart shattered as he watched her collect herself so she could flee from the house. And from him.

  “Miranda,” he pleaded quietly, crossing the room to her and reaching for her shoulders. The sight of her pain ripped at his heart. “Please listen—”

  She yanked herself away and put half the distance of the room between them. Instinctively, he knew not to follow.

  “You said I was special,” she whispered, unable to find a louder voice beneath her tears, although he knew he deserved to be cursed in screams. “I know it’s not love, but—” She choked on a sob, and the soft sound sliced through him. “I never imagined this was what you meant.”

  He flinched at the recrimination in her voice. “I didn’t.”

  She turned on him, her eyes flashing bright with furious tears as she accused, “The message or the delivery, Sebastian?”

  His eyes met hers, guiltily returning the pain he saw in their stormy depths and hating himself for causing it. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair to keep from reaching for her again. “What do you want from me, Miranda?” His shoulders slumped in defeat beneath the unbearable weight of his life. And of her love. “Whatever it is, I can’t give it.”

  Nothing had changed for him, no matter how much he enjoyed being with her. No matter how much peace he had found in her arms or happiness in one of her laughing smiles. He was still a duke, and he could never be free to marry whomever he wanted.

  “I want you, Sebastian,” she breathed in a heartbreaking whisper.

  Her soft words fell through him with a pleasure-pain so intense that it ripped his breath away. At that moment, he recognized all the love and happiness that fate held dangling in front of him, all wrapped up inside a spirited woman with unruly strawberry-blond hair and a freckled nose—only to have it snatched away. The wretchedness of it was unbearable.

  “I can’t give it,” he repeated, his voice choking.

  “Even now?” she whispered, the pain in her voice heartbreaking. “Even after last night and all we shared?”

  Damning himself to hell, he admitted quietly, “Even now.”

  She flinched as hard as if he’d hit her, ripping out what little was left of his heart. “But you’re not marrying Lady Jane,” she whispered, blinking rapidly to hold back her tears. “You told me last night that you…”

  Her voice drifted away as the truth sank slowly through her, and he watched as the fight ebbed from her, stealing away the energy and vivacity that he loved so much. She transformed before his eyes, from the beautiful woman set on seizing life for all it was worth to a dull shadow of herself. He’d never hated the dukedom or himself as much as he did at that moment.

  “So it wasn’t that you preferred Jane,” she whispered, so softly he could barely hear her, but his heart felt every torturous word stab into his chest. “You simply never wanted me.”

  “That’s not it,” he bit out in his own pain and frustration, “and you know it.”

  Damnation! He’d been placed into an impossible situation, didn’t she realize that? What d
id she want him to do—throw aside his obligation to his family by selfishly marrying the woman he wanted rather than one who would be best for the dukedom? Wasn’t it enough that he had to carry inside him the guilt he felt over not being at his father’s side when he died? Or did she want to haunt him, too, reminding him forever of the happiness and love he’d lost in her?

  Once before, he’d chosen a woman over his family, and she had cost him the last opportunity to speak to his father. He would never put a woman before his family again. No matter how much he loved her.

  “I would marry you if I could, Miranda.” The soft confession tore from him with an anguish so intense that he winced. “I would give you a home and a family, and I would spend the rest of my days spoiling you. But I’m not free to marry you, you know that. Even before we left Islingham, you knew that I needed to find not just a wife but a duchess.”

  “But you need someone who makes you happy,” she whispered through the tears. “More than anything else I want—I just want to make you happy—” She choked, her words turning into a sob.

  “My happiness is not your responsibility, Miranda. Neither is anyone else’s.” He kept his voice as gentle as possible, to compensate for the harshness of his words, but he had to make her understand how futile her feelings were for him, even with the best intentions behind them. “You want to help people, and that is selfless and wonderful. But you cannot save us all, just as you couldn’t save your parents. Some of us are beyond your help, and you have to let us go.” He paused, his gaze holding hers as the pain of the truth registered on her face. “You have to let me go.”

  She stared at him, as if clearly seeing him for the first time, and he watched the last tendrils of hope seep out of her. Then her watery gaze lowered to the floor, unable to bear holding his a moment longer, and her hand swiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. The pain inside him was unbearable. God’s mercy, how he hated seeing her cry! And with each tear, something tore deep inside him, until it shattered completely.