Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

by Julia Justiss

She nodded. ‘Thank Him—and you. When you jumped down from your horse this afternoon, I was never so glad to see anyone in my life! Just having you nearby makes me feel safer.’

  He bit his tongue on the urge to propose here and now. Instinct warned that, with things just returning to a semblance of normalcy after a day of chaos, it wasn’t the moment to suggest she disrupt her whole life again. ‘I hope I can always keep you safe,’ was all he allowed himself. ‘In fact, let me urge you to accompany me back to your sister at Highgate Village. I don’t believe there will be more trouble, but I wouldn’t like to risk it. You’ll need the stable rebuilt and a complete airing of the main house before it’s truly habitable again; you could have that visit with your sister while the work is underway. By the time it’s complete, we should be close to finally passing the Reform Bill, ending any further threat for good.’

  After sitting thoughtfully for a moment, she nodded in agreement. ‘It would be better to move the boys from any possible danger, and no one could enjoy living in this smoke. Large as this manse is, it will take for ever to fully air it out.’

  ‘Hire as many as you can from the village to help. They’ll be glad of the wages, which will also sweeten the mood of the surrounding area.’

  ‘Another good suggestion.’ Taking one last sip of brandy, she set down the glass. ‘Suddenly I’m weary. Will you walk with me back to the bedchamber wing? I wouldn’t want you to get lost and end up sleeping on a trestle in the Great Hall.’

  Now that they were alone, in the intimate camaraderie of candlelight and darkness, the desire always simmering beneath the surface intensified. The mere mention of ‘bedchamber’ made his member leap in anticipation. Having her escort him to his chamber was probably a very bad idea.

  Before he could answer, she continued. ‘I have to admit, I still feel a shiver down my spine, every time I turn my back.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m as bad as Colin! But I’ve never experienced such...naked animosity. It was...unsettling. How magnificently you handled the crowd, though!’

  ‘Nothing like a little reminder of the gallows to make men reconsider their rashness,’ he said wryly, finishing his own brandy.

  While she blew out the candles on the sideboard, he picked up a brace, then escorted her from the darkened room. Shadows danced along her face as he walked her down the hallways, the battle between desire and good sense intensifying with each step.

  He was barely able to breathe by the time she halted in front of a door. ‘This chamber is mine,’ she said, her voice as unsteady as his heartbeat. ‘Would you go inside with me, and make sure no rioters lurk in the corners?’

  His mind immediately played with the words of her request, bringing up images of another sort of penetration. His mouth too dry for speech, he merely nodded before opening the door and walking in, Faith trailing behind him. After making a circuit with the candelabra, shedding light across a sitting area, the hearth, a dressing table...and then back to a wide, four-poster bed, he set the candelabra on the bedside table and made himself walk back to the open door.

  Halting there, he had to swallow twice before he could get any words out. ‘Goodnight, Faith. Sleep well.’

  She stepped over, closed the door and turned to face him. ‘Oh, Davie,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t really mean to leave me all alone tonight, do you?’

  He ought to, but desire seemed to have snuffed out reason as completely as Faith had extinguished the candles in the library. He simply stood, unable to make himself quit the room, every bit of will engaged in keeping himself from picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she whispered again. Reaching up to cup his face in her hands, she leaned up and kissed him.

  And, as always, he was lost.

  * * *

  In the time it took him to register the touch of her mouth against his, her kiss turned from tentative to frantic and demanding. Anxiety relieved, passion long denied—whatever it was, it drove him as powerfully as it did her. Opening to her, he scoured her tongue with his own.

  She clung to him with one arm, trying with her other hand to raise her skirts high enough to wrap her legs around his. Still kissing her, their mouths locked, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Perched on the edge, she yanked at his neckcloth, unravelling the knot and pulling the length free, jerking the neckline of his shirt open until she could slide her hands up and under, the imprint of her fingers sizzling against his bare skin.

  As he leaned her against the pillows, driving his tongue into her, she pulled his hands to her breasts, gasping into his mouth as he rubbed his thumbs across nipples so rigid, he could feel their hardness through the layers of chemise and gown. She sought his hardness, too, trying to grasp and stroke the erection straining against his trouser front, fumbling for the buttons.

  Knowing he’d never last if she touched him there, wanting her satisfaction to be complete and overwhelming, he pushed her hands away. Apparently misunderstanding his intent, she began tugging up her skirts.

  But he was a large man. Not knowing how long since she’d last been loved—not wanting to know—and intent on giving her pleasure unmarred by discomfort, he helped her pull up the skirts, bunching them around her hips until the pale skin of her thighs gleaned in the candlelight. But instead of uncovering himself to straddle her, as she urged, he caressed his fingers up her legs, over her knees, across the bare skin of her thighs, over the softness of her stomach.

  She cried out, thrusting her hips against his hand. And so he moved his fingers lower, stroking across her cleft, where she was hot, and wet, and oh so ready. Bending to kiss her again, his gentle fingers massaged and caressed, back and forth across that tender ridge in time to the thrusts of their tongues, until a few seconds later, she reached her peak and cried out, going rigid in his arms.

  He let her sag back against the pillows, laying his cheek against her head while they both gasped for breath. But before he could move away and ease himself on to the pillows beside her, she thrust her hips against his hand again.

  ‘More, my darling?’ he whispered, giving her a tender kiss.

  ‘More, please,’ she whispered.

  Quite ready to continue, he trailed his fingers from her centre down one bare thigh, up the other and back. Bending to kiss her again, he slid one slick finger into her warm depths. He felt the tremor within her as she gasped and angled her hips to invite him further. Stroking deeper, he inserted another finger, then another, stretching her, filling her, sliding in and out until, her hands clutching his shoulders, she shattered again.

  This was bliss, he thought, gathering her against him, kissing her damp forehead, exulting at the response he’d drawn from her. But he shouldn’t be surprised that his tree-climbing, crowd-confronting, tender-hearted Faith was as passionate as she was fiercely loving.

  While he reclined in a euphoria of pleasant, if unsatisfied, satisfaction, she stirred against him. ‘Ah, Davie, that was wonderful,’ she murmured. ‘But I want to feel you inside me. All of you. Now. Please.’

  As she spoke, she worked open the buttons of his trouser flap, freeing the straining erection. Stroking him, she said, ‘I think you want that, too.’

  Her hand still on him, she lowered herself against the pillows and urged him down over her. So close to breaking under the stimulation of her touch, he knew he couldn’t hold back much longer, he gasped, ‘No, not like that!’ Gently removing her hand, he rolled to his back and held out his arms to her. ‘I’d crush you, sweetheart. Ride me instead.’

  ‘Willingly.’

  And not only was she willing, wicked wench that she was, she retained enough of the presence of mind he was fast losing to be able to tease, straddling him and running a finger along his swollen length before guiding him home. Even then, she eased herself down on him gently, inviting possession one slow bit at a time, until he was nearly mad from res
training the wild motion his body craved.

  But once she’d fully sheathed him, ah, then, she too abandoned any pretence of patience, moving with him in hard, frantic thrusts that soon had them both spinning into the abyss together.

  * * *

  Some time later, Davie drifted awake, floating happily in the grip of the most splendid dream he’d ever had—making love to Faith, falling asleep with her cradled in his arms, awakening to the warmth of her beside him, her soft breathing the only sound in a chamber gilded by flickering candlelight.

  In the moment he realised the experience was real, not just the most vivid dream he’d ever had, a sense of awe and wonder suffused him.

  He must convince Faith to marry him. Having tasted such magnificent joy, how could he go back to the dull greyness of a life without her?

  Then she stirred and smiled up at him. ‘‘Oh, Davie, I’ve never been so happy.

  ‘Nor have I, my darling,’ he said, smiling back.

  ‘Well, that is, I could be a little happier. If we dispensed with all these annoying garments.’

  He grinned. ‘Happy to oblige, my angel. Shall I blow out the candles first?’

  ‘No, don’t.’ Her merry eyes grew serious. ‘I want to see you. All of you. Oh, how often I’ve dreamed of it! I want to see every bit.’

  Everything within him stirred and tightened at her request. ‘Only if I can see all of you in return.’

  To his delight, despite her boldness earlier, a shy blush coloured her cheeks. ‘If that would please you.’

  ‘How often I’ve imagined it,’ he echoed her response, that prospect the ultimate fulfilment of all his many dreams.

  ‘Then imagine no more.’

  She eased from the bed and offered him the laces at her back. Swiftly he undid them, helped her out of her bodice, then her skirt. When she turned, the outline of her breasts clear under thin linen of the chemise, he had to halt long enough to kiss them, his member stirring as he cupped each full, heavy round. He had to stop again after he’d pulled off her chemise to suckle the soft pink nipples into rigid points, before caressing his way down her legs as he stripped off stockings and garters.

  When she stood before him, fully naked, he could only stare, mesmerised. ‘You’re even more lovely than I imagined.’

  ‘My turn,’ she said, her voice trembling. Distracted by her nakedness, he was scarcely aware of shrugging off his jacket and vest, kicking off the already-unbuttoned breeches, peeling down his hose, until a draught of wind that rattled the shutters sent a cold breath of air to prickle his skin.

  All he cared about was her molten gaze, fixed on him. ‘What a wonder you are,’ she whispered, running her fingers over the breadth of his shoulders, his chest, down arms and thighs whose muscles tensed at her touch. ‘So big, so powerful. Such pleasure you give me.’ Before he could guess her intent, she bent and kissed his erection.

  Dizzied by the intensity of his response, he clutched at her shoulders to steady himself. Before the pleasure of it made him lose his balance entirely, she pulled him over to the bed, driving him mad again as she suckled and caressed. Knowing he was nearing the peak, he moved away from her, breaking contact.

  Ignoring his body’s protest, he slid to his knees before her. ‘I want to taste satisfaction on you,’ he whispered. The sloe-eyed seduction of her gaze spurring him on, gently he parted her legs and plied with his tongue the tender areas his fingers and shaft had pleasured, until she was pressing against him, sobbing for release.

  She motioned him back on to the bed, pulling him up, pushing him back against the pillows, sheathing him to the hilt in one swift thrust. There was no pretence of teasing this time, just urgent, relentless movement that drove them both to completion.

  Sated, dazzled, Davie subsided against the pillows. Exhausted after the anxiety of the day and his long hours of riding, he tucked Faith against his chest, blew out the candles, pulled the blankets over them, and fell immediately into the most contented sleep of his life.

  Chapter Twenty

  Smiling drowsily, Faith snuggled into the warm, solid shape beside her. She couldn’t remember, she thought with a sense of awe, ever feeling so safe and cherished, so completely happy and at peace. So satisfied.

  And then she remembered. Davie, making love to her tenderly, completely, thoroughly. Davie, here in her bed.

  Wasn’t he? Suddenly terrified it was only a dream, she sat up abruptly, panic draining away to leave only delight when she saw he was, indeed, still lying on the pillow beside her, arms crossed behind his head. A beam of morning light illumined his face and the blue, blue eyes watching her, full of tenderness and the same sense of wonder she felt.

  She leaned down to kiss him, sure in the whole history of the world, there had never been a sweeter, more beautiful awakening. ‘You are still here,’ she said as she released him.

  ‘I am.’ He reached up to trace the line of her jaw with one finger. ‘Where I’ve wanted to be for so long. Where I never want to leave.’

  She caught his finger and kissed it, then slipped it into her mouth and suckled it, drawing a groan from him and sparking a delicious flutter in her nether regions. Which, though oh-so-satisfied, seemed to indicate they were quite ready to begin the activities of the night all over again.

  She took his hand and cupped around her bare breast. ‘Last night was...magnificent. Amazing. I never dreamed such pleasure existed.’

  He stroked her breast, drawing his hand up to caress the already rigid nipple. ‘All for you.’

  She whimpered, leaning into his stroking fingers. ‘Now I understand why men and women have affairs.’

  He stopped abruptly, his smile fading, and drew himself up against the pillows. Pulling her into his arms, he said, ‘I don’t want to have an affair with you, Faith.’

  Alarmed by that blunt statement, she pushed away so she might watch his expression. ‘You don’t? How can you say that? You couldn’t be so cruel as to dismiss me after only one night! Surely you care more for me than that!’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t want one night—I want every night. I want you in my life, in my arms, in my bed, from now until the day I die. I love you, Faith, totally and completely. I have, I think, almost from the moment we met. Won’t you marry me, my darling?’

  Shock washed the drowsy sensuality clean away. ‘Marry you?’ she gasped. ‘But I had no idea—’

  ‘Surely you had some idea. True, I never spelled out what I really wanted for us. At first, I didn’t think I had the right. But the night the Reform Bill passed, I realised in the new England we wish to create, if I truly believe I am the equal of any man, I should act like it. In fact, with Lord Randall, and with the crowd today, I’ve been of more use to you than I would have been, had I been born a peer. The rioters would have ignored—or attacked—a nobleman, leaving you in danger.’

  She shook her head wonderingly. ‘I can’t think of another man who could have accomplished what you did.’

  ‘The only reason I hesitated to press my suit was my concern over the boys. Before I came to Derbyshire, I talked with Englemere and Sir Edward, to ask their opinions about how your children’s trustees might react, should you marry me. They felt certain they would not disapprove—at least, not enough to remove your sons from your care. It only remains to determine if you believe I am your equal, and if so, to decide if you love me enough to suffer the other consequences.’

  ‘Other consequences?’ she echoed, still too shocked to really take in what he was saying.

  ‘The titters from those who believe you’ve married far beneath you. Cuts direct from people who cross you off their guest list. Your own mother-in-law might refuse to receive you any longer.’

  She laughed. ‘I would rather call that a “blessing”! You should know more than anyone how little I would miss anything abou
t society. But...marriage?’

  Suddenly, she saw not Davie’s dear face but Edward’s, the night he proposed. How ardent he’d seemed, how completely intent on convincing her that he wanted her and only her, to be his wife and bear his children, his alone for the rest of his life.

  How long had that ardour lasted? How much was it her fault that it had not?

  ‘Unless you believe I’m not...good enough,’ his voice recalled her.

  ‘You not good enough?’ she said incredulously, looking back at him. ‘How can you even think that?’

  Her avowal earned a fierce hug and an even more ardent kiss. ‘Then you’ll accept my hand?’ he said as he released her.

  Much as she hated to disappoint him, warning bells were sounding in her head like the voice of Cassandra predicting doom.

  ‘I...oh, I don’t know! You know I care about you. But...you’ve wanted me a long time. Loved me a long time. I...I fear you have created a vastly over-rosy image of me, as some sort of paragon, something I could never live up to. I’m not very special, really. I don’t embroider, or sing, or play, or make clever, witty conversation. I fear I would end up...disappointing you, and I couldn’t bear that.’

  Fortunately, since she found herself perilously near tears, he did not laugh at her, or make some dismissive remark. Instead, he took her hands and looked straight into her eyes. ‘You are special to me. A shining star who brightens the life of everyone around her. Who else would climb a tree, just to make her son smile? Or stand before an angry crowd who threatened her sons, and yet show mercy? A woman scorned and belittled by society, by the family that should have cherished her, who reacted with calm resignation rather than hate and vindictiveness. I’ve felt that way about you since the first day we met. My heart rejoices every time I see your smile, or hear your laughter. I expect some day, our world will have created machines to embroider, or play music, or even to sing to us. But I don’t think there will ever be as beautiful a spirit as yours, or one whose sensitivity and compassion make my heart rejoice every time I see her.’