The Silent Duke

by Michaels, Jess

  Swiftly, he showed Charlotte and the others how much sand to put in the bags and how to tie them off securely. Then he grabbed two of the heavy bags and headed down to the water’s edge to join the others.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes at the attitude, but put her charges to work as the rain pounded on and river continued to rise.

  Ewan came up the slope of the hill, trying to ignore all the aches and pains in his muscles. It was hard, heavy work to build the barrier, and a reminder that while he might play at physical labor, he certainly wasn’t as strong as some of his tenants or servants.

  All those thoughts left his mind as he reached the top of the hill and found Charlotte standing in the drizzling rain, her skirt soaked and the bottom covered in three inches of sand. She was tying off a sandbag with a triumphant call of, “Finished!”

  He blinked, uncertain if he was hallucinating. One of the men had said something about the tenants helping to fill bags, but Ewan had had no idea Charlotte had joined their ranks. From the way they all gathered around her, it seemed she was actually the leader of their group.

  The children laughed up at her, the women looked at her with approval. And she seemed as though she fit into their circles in that moment, despite the fact that she was a duke’s daughter and an earl’s widow. There was no boundary between herself and his people, and on this day, when he knew the tenants were afraid, that mattered.

  She turned and caught sight of him. With a grin, she lifted her hand in greeting and raced down to him. His heart leapt and he leaned forward, as if he could simply fold her into him.

  “How does it look?” she asked quietly, her tone serious but her face still bright for those who were watching.

  “It will hold, assuming the rain continues to taper off like it has at last,” he signed, unable to hold back an exhausted sigh.

  Her shoulders slumped slightly and a look of relief passed over her face that he would have expected if her own home were being threatened. But of course she would have such empathy. She was Charlotte.

  “Shall I tell them?” she asked.

  He nodded. She linked her arm with his and drew him forward to the group of women and children. “The duke says that they feel the lessening weather and the strength of the dam will keep the flooding from getting worse.”

  One of the women began to cry as the rest gathered close. The children jumped with pleasure. Ewan’s heart swelled with it all. He had good people in his care. He took their well-being seriously.

  He signed letters and words at a breakneck speed and Charlotte translated to the group, “His Grace still believes the Nickel, Swanright and Beckham families should take to the shelter tonight. It’s the big hunting lodge where the items have been taken and there are comfortable beds, as well as a feast that will be sent down from the big house.”

  “Our tarts?” one of the boys called out.

  Ewan shot Charlotte a look. “Tarts?” he signed.

  “I promised tarts to the boy and girl who helped fill the most sandbags,” she explained. “Though I think there should be tarts for everyone!”

  He nodded. “I agree. Tarts and pheasant, vegetable stew, bread and cheese and wine.” The eyes of the families boggled, and he smiled. “The same will be sent to the homes of the families who were not evacuated as a thanks for all their help today.”

  The door to one of the cottages higher on the hill opened and a lady hustled out with a huge teapot and a plate of simple cakes and breads. It was Mrs. Boyd, whose home was not threatened by the flood.

  “For you and the men, Your Grace.” She bustled and another of the tenants rushed to help her pour cups. The men were coming up the hill behind him and they gratefully took the warm brew to take the chill from their bones. Ewan took his cup last and drew in a breath of the fragrant tea.

  As he took a sip, Mrs. Boyd smiled at Charlotte and handed her a cup. “It will be a fine thing to have a new duchess on the estate.”

  Ewan just barely kept himself from spitting his mouthful of tea across the worn grass at the assumption. Charlotte shot him a side glance before she smiled kindly at Mrs. Boyd.

  “Oh, gracious, I am not to be the new duchess,” she explained gently. “The duke and I are…we’re simply old friends. We’re awaiting the arrival of family when the bridge opens to have a holiday celebration. I couldn’t let him come down here to all of you and not offer to help.”

  Mrs. Boyd blushed. “Oh, there I go putting my foot in it. I just assumed—”

  Charlotte reached out and placed a hand on hers. “There’s no harm, of course. If today I stood well in the place of the Duchess of Donburrow, I am happy for that.”

  Ewan swallowed as conversation passed to other things. He hardly attended to any of it. All he could do was watch Charlotte. Even wet and dirty, she was lovely. She could put any person at ease—she did it without even trying. And it was clear by the way the ladies of his estate cooed over her that she was instantly adored by all.

  He shifted slightly, trying to keep his mind from turning to thoughts of her truly as his bride, his duchess. She would make things so much easier, especially since she had clearly established relationships with his people in just a few short hours. And the idea that she would be at his side always, in his bed always, in his arms always…

  He shook his head and stepped forward to return his empty cup to Mrs. Boyd. He signed and Charlotte translated, “The carriage to take us back to the estate is coming, it seems. The men will keep watch on the barrier we built, and if anything changes or worsens, please don’t hesitate to send word. We can evacuate even more.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Chadworth said, reaching out a hand. Ewan shook it, and then the hands of all the men who he had worked side by side with today. Charlotte hadn’t been with him then, but he hadn’t needed to speak to communicate.

  That was a big reason why he liked doing physical labor. He could find respect with his body without needing someone to decide if he had a mind at all.

  The ladies were saying their goodbyes to Charlotte and he waved off his footman and waited by the carriage door. When she at last turned toward him, she smiled.

  “I am to be helped into my carriage by the Duke of Donburrow, himself,” she teased softly. “What a great honor.”

  He shook his head with a laugh as he took her hand. Her fingers flexed through her gloves and his heart jumped to life. Even in the cold and the rain he reacted to her. Nothing could stop it, it seemed.

  She settled into her seat, and he climbed in after her and pulled the door shut behind him. It was more than twenty minutes back to the house from this part of the estate, and he settled in for a cold ride.

  “I thought a carriage back would be better than horses,” he explained through sign.

  She nodded. “Yes, I admit it’s nice to sit and let someone else do the work after such a long morning.”

  “You were good with the tenants,” he signed. “You helped calm their fears.”

  “Well, I owe a bundle of children wooden swords and dollies, it seems,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “Once the bridge is back open, I hope you’ll come with me to town and help me pick their prizes.”

  He tilted his head to look at her in the dim carriage. “Your kindness is so effortless, isn’t it? You don’t even think about it.”

  She shifted, as if that statement made her uncomfortable in some way. “My father may have had his…issues…but a lack of kindness was not one of them. I like people, I like hearing their stories. It reminds me how similar we all are.”

  “Some ladies of your station wouldn’t see it that way.”

  “Far too many,” she agreed with a frown. “But if my home were threatened by a flood, I would react the same way those women did today. That is a human reaction—it has naught to do with station or class or fortune.”

  “That is a good way to think of it,” he signed as he settled back against the carriage seat. He pondered her words for
a moment and then his hands began to move, signing more almost against his will. “I felt…separate from everyone around me for so long, it’s harder for me to make those connections.”

  She leaned in closer. “You were always able to connect with your friends. With me.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, though he was unable to look away from her face. It was so close now. He could just reach out and trace her cheek. Claim her lips.

  She must have read his intention, his desire, for she scooted across to his seat. Slowly, she peeled her wet gloves away and tossed them back on the opposite seat, then lifted a trembling hand to smooth a lock of wet hair away from his forehead.

  “You are very handsome…wet,” she whispered.

  Suddenly Ewan didn’t care if he was cold. He didn’t care if he was soaked to the bone. He only cared about the woman next to him. He only cared about the press of Charlotte’s body against his side, the feel of her fingertips as she traced his jawline.

  He leaned in and kissed her. She made a soft sound of surrender in the back of her throat and lifted against him, like she was trying to get closer. He turned in his seat, leaning into her, pressing her back against the carriage wall as his arms came around her and his mouth became more insistent against hers.

  Her mouth opened beneath his and he dove in, tasting her, drowning in her, reveling in her feel and her smell and her flavor that seemed to surround every single part of him. He was lost in her, he always had been, and this physical exchange only made that clearer.

  He should have cared about that. He should have resisted it. But he couldn’t. Not when she was lifting her hips to his, not when her arms came around his neck and she angled her head for better access. Not when she was all that mattered in his world.

  The carriage stopped and Ewan jolted, lifting his head in surprise. Had they been lost in kissing for so long? It had seemed like a moment since they left the others, but here they were, at the estate. He straightened and glanced at her in apology. But she looked anything but sorry. She was pink and smiling as the carriage door opened and a footman appeared to help him down.

  He turned and helped her from the vehicle and they made their way to the house together. Smith waited for them at the door and Ewan could see the concern on his face at their dirty and wet appearances.

  “Are you both quite well?” Smith asked as he began taking their wet hats and jackets and gloves.

  “Very well,” Charlotte provided. “It seems Ewan and his men have built a dam that will protect the tenants.”

  “If it holds,” Ewan signed, and Charlotte squeezed his arm gently.

  “That is very good news,” Smith said, and Ewan saw him sag a little with relief. Again, Ewan was struck with what good people worked in his employ. He was very lucky that way.

  “The arrangement you asked for is ready,” Smith continued, nodding to Ewan. “Would you like for us to provide the same for you or would you like tea first?”

  Charlotte shook her head as she looked at Ewan. “Arrangement?”

  He smiled down at her and signed, “I thought you deserved a steamy hot bath after all your work today. I sent word to have it ready when I requested the carriage.”

  She glanced at Smith, then back to him. Then she signed, “And will you join me, Ewan?”

  He swallowed, heat flooding his cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment. Smith didn’t know their finger language. No, this was the flush of desire. Of need.

  And he knew he wouldn’t deny her. “Tell Smith I’ll be fine and not to worry. That we’ll want tea in…”

  He shrugged and she smiled before she turned to Smith. “His Grace says you shouldn’t worry about him at present, but that he and I will take tea together in two hours.”

  “Very good, my lady,” Smith said, then slipped off to leave them alone.

  Ewan stared at her. “You may overestimate my prowess, my lady,” he signed.

  She caught his hand and drew him toward the staircase with only a laugh as her answer. And he surrendered to her, because it was impossible not to. Especially when she offered him everything he’d ever wanted.

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte drew Ewan into her chamber and smiled. There in the corner was a big brass tub, filled high with steaming water and even a few flower petals. Perfect, because of course Ewan had designed it to be perfect.

  As always.

  She faced him as he shut the door behind them and smiled. “We’ve rushed before,” she whispered. “I would very much like to take my time with you this afternoon.”

  He nodded slowly, and she watched as his gaze flowed over her like a waterfall. Even with her soaked to the bone, covered in sand and dirt, with her hair wild from the wind and rain, he looked at her like she was a goddess. He made her feel that way.

  And he was her match and her mate, even if he didn’t believe that. Yet.

  She moved forward and touched the wet front of his shirt. It was half-plastered to his broad chest, and she glanced up at him in approval as she unfastened each button slowly. He slipped the shirt away and stood in just his trousers. She licked her lips. Damn, but he was muscular. Cut as if he were made of granite. She touched him and she could believe it was stone beneath his flesh, he was so hard and so perfectly formed.

  He was still as her fingers trailed down his chest and found the flap on his trousers. She loosened it without breaking eye contact and let it fall forward. He was hard already, his cock curling toward his stomach in a proud display of the desire he’d fought for so long.

  She caught him in one hand and stroked him from base to head, eliciting a deep sound from his chest and a sharp exhalation of air. He dipped his head back and she studied him in fascination as pleasure softened his expression, stole some of his control.

  She wanted all of it.

  But he seemed to have different ideas. Without warning, he straightened, grabbed her shoulders and turned her, pressing a hand into her back to bend her slightly as he tugged at her dress, popping buttons loose with a flick of his fingers. The warm air of the chamber hit her chilled skin and she let out a sigh of pleasure. One that doubled as he shoved the contraption down, peeling it off her arms and tugging it off her hips so it pooled in a damp pile around her feet. She toed off her boots and rolled her stockings away, then turned to face him and found that he, too, had removed the rest of his clothes.

  He was staring, just staring at her, and she blushed even as she arched her back slightly, trying to give him the best angle on her body. The way he swallowed hard, the way his pupils dilated, she knew he liked what he saw.

  So did she. His broad shoulders, his carved chest and stomach, his trim hips, his thick thighs, his heavy cock, all of them could have been designed out of a book of her fantasies. Or perhaps that book had long ago been written with him as the muse.

  Right now it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she wanted him. And while he would still allow that he wanted her, she was going to take advantage of every single moment they shared.

  She shimmied forward and stopped just in front of him. “And now what?” she whispered. “What do you want, Ewan?” He pointed to the tub, and she laughed. “By myself?”

  He shook his head slowly, then guided her to the tub. He took her hand and balanced her as she stepped into the water. She hissed out a sound of pleasure as the steamy water hit her cool flesh. When she had situated herself, he knelt beside the tub, watching her through the clear waves. She tilted her head, examining his face as he reached into the water to smooth his fingers along her bare thigh, her hip.

  It was hard to remember that just yesterday he’d told her he was a virgin. Making love to him had been immensely powerful, but she had to recall that he was still learning her body and her likes, as well as discovering his own.

  She parted her legs slowly, draping one leg out of the tub to open her sex as she settled back. Her breasts were only barely covered by the water. He jerked his face toward hers, a ques
tion.

  “I assume you want to see,” she said, maintaining a lilt of innocence to her tone. “To touch.”

  He didn’t answer her by signing, but by returning his attention to the assets she had just laid out before him. He stroked one breast gently, rubbing his thumb over her nipple as she gasped in pleasure.

  “I like that,” she whispered, barely able to form words. “Just a bit harder, though?”

  He obliged, firming his thumb around the hard nub until she gripped at the edge of the tub with a soft cry she couldn’t hold back. He smiled at the sound and moved to the opposite breast, swirling and pinching the same way. Already she could feel the slick readiness of her sex. The tingling anticipation of his body fitted into hers.

  But he wasn’t finished with his exploration. He dragged the back of his hand down the front of her body, stoking her stomach, her hip, and then her open sex.

  He slid a hand behind her and lifted her slightly, pulling her lower body to the top of the water. She understood then what he wanted. To see her. So she lifted higher and gave him what he desired.

  He stared, his hands shaking, and then he cupped his palm against her sex. She jolted against him, turning her head as pleasure mobbed her. It was amazing how just a tiny touch from him could make her alive with electric desire. Her husband had never done that. It had taken work to come. With Ewan, it seemed she might do it from just the barest touch.

  But he wasn’t satisfied with that bare touch. Gently, he parted the folds of her sex, opening her and revealing the wet slit of her opening and the glistening pearl of her clitoris. His sharp intake of breath made her tingle as much as his touch, and she closed her eyes to focus as his finger traced her entrance.

  She reached down and covered his hand with hers, their fingers tangling against her slick sex as she maneuvered him into position. She pressed his thumb to her clitoris and slowly they circled it together. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her face, and she smiled.

  “Just like that,” she gasped, releasing his hand so he could guide this pleasure on his own. And he did, so perfectly. He used the same amount of pressure she had asked for against her nipple, and it didn’t take long for her to jolt in electric desire and lift her hips toward him in a seeking rhythm.