The Duke's Mysterious Lady

by Maggi Andersen

  Hugh gave into to the exquisite emotions swirling through him and swept her up in his arms. He lay Viola down onto a pile of dry leaves. Untying her shirt, he kissed the smooth skin of her throat, before pulling it over her head. Her full breasts were soft and pale, kissed by moonlight. He shaped them with his hands and bent to taste them, the nipples firming against his tongue.

  “Oh!” She arched her back and clung to him.

  He captured her mouth again, exploring her lips and her mouth with his tongue, marveling at her response. Her hand at his nape pulled him closer, until her body molded to his, every inch of her driving him mad with desire. He pulled away to run his hands over her waist to the flare of her hips, feeling the plush warmth of her skin, the fine curve of her backside.

  Lord, but he wanted her! Wanted to discover the delights awaiting him, knowing their union would be unforgettable. He had never made love to a woman he felt such a bond with. Lovemaking had always been about slating his lust. He sat up and began to shed his clothes, slipping off his shirt, boots and trousers.

  Naked, his erection leapt free.

  Viola sat up “Oh, but you’re beautiful!” Hugh gave a guttural laugh. “Beautiful? I hardly think so.” He pulled down her pantaloons kissing his way over her body, moving down to the patch of soft, pale hair at the juncture of her thighs. He circled the pearl nestling beneath the petals of her sex with his tongue.

  “Oh! That’s…” Her hands found his hair, and she tugged on it, trying to pull him away. He persisted until her hands moved to his shoulders. When she cried out. Hugh lifted his head to find her gasping, her eyes wild, licking her swollen bottom lip. “I never felt such…”

  “I know, my love. But this may hurt for a short while.”

  She was moist as he edged inside her tight channel, pausing when he found what he had suspected was true. She had never known a lover. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Mm. A little,” she whispered.

  With one quick thrust, he was fully inside her.

  With a gasp, she tensed and clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Hugh felt her body adjust to him and began to move inside her. He worshiped her with his mouth and his hands and his whole body, wishing for her to enjoy this as much as he, but knowing the first time was never as good for a woman. He struggled to control his mounting passion, his heart so full, and when she wrapped her legs around his hips and moaned against his mouth, he was lost.

  He seized her bottom and thrust rhythmically into her tight hot channel, aware of every mew of pleasure she uttered, her hands stroking his back, raking his hair, their panting breaths mingling.

  He couldn’t delay his orgasm and called her name into the still air as he withdrew to spill his seed onto the ground. Spent, he settled beside her and drank her in while his heart and his breath quieted.

  She lay on her side, one hand toying with the hair on his chest. A smile lifted her lips.

  “My love.” Her shy gaze met his.

  “That was every bit as wonderful as I imagined.”

  He could do it better, much better, but they had a lifetime to learn each other’s bodies. It was a very promising beginning. He raised his brows with a glimmer of humor.

  “You imagined?”

  He loved it when her hands went to her cheeks. “I confess I had given it some thought, although I’d little to go on.”

  “I’ve learned more about you tonight.” He bent to tongue a taut nipple causing her to laugh and wriggle.

  “What?”

  “You’re a passionate, wonderful lover, and you have never been married.”

  “It would seem I haven’t,” she said, with a frown. “I wish I could be sure.”

  “We will learn the truth, sweetheart. We’ll take it day by day.”

  But first, an unpleasant interrogation awaited him and Felicity. He hoped Felicity could be persuasive, for he would not back down. The matter would be resolved. It must. Viola and he would marry as soon as possible.

  He propped his head on his elbow and gazed down at her, his eyes feasting on her beauty. He was her first love and was determined to be the last.

  “You are mine now, Viola.” Her eyes were deep pools of midnight violet, her expression hard to read.

  “I’ll ride to London tomorrow and shake up Bow Street. I intend to return with answers. We must plan the rest of our life together.”

  Viola began to gather her clothes. “I wish we could stay like this, but I must go back before Nanny realizes I’ve gone.”

  He leapt up and took her hand, drawing her to her feet.

  “You’re not sorry we made love, are you?”

  “Never, never, never.”

  “And you promise you’ll wait for me to return from London?”

  “Yes.” her voice was muffled beneath the garment she pulled over her head “I give you my promise, Hugh.”

  “We are like Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden,” he said with a laugh.

  “As long as there’s no nasty serpent around,” she said, reaching for her pantaloons.

  After they’d dressed, Hugh untethered Molly and they walked towards the stables, his arm around her waist.

  They stabled the horse and strolled down the lane.

  Nearing the cottage, Hugh drew her close. “Know that I love you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I want to take you home with me right now to my bed, where we can enjoy each other properly.”

  She shook her head. “No bed of silk will ever be as sweet for me as that bed of leaves.”

  “It will, I promise.” He tilted her chin, gazing into her eyes. “I mean to make love to you slowly. To wake up in the morning with you beside me.”

  She touched his cheek and sighed. “I pray that day shall come, but until then, tonight will fill my dreams.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Viola crept upstairs, and ripped up the note she’d left for Nanny. She climbed into her bed and hugged to herself every detail of their lovemaking. Her body tingled, and she tucked her hands between her legs with a delighted shiver. She would remember what happened between them for the rest of her life.

  But it could never happen again. His declarations filled her with joy, but they must be realistic. A vision crept unwelcome into her thoughts: herself as Hugh’s mistress. It brought a thrill of pleasure and a flush to her face, as she envisioned herself reclining on a chaise, awaiting his company in some silken boudoir. She had not understood the power of love. How it took over your mind and body and joined a man and woman together body and soul. How could she now live without such love? It would be worth almost anything. Even the fact that they could never marry….

  She sat up in bed, her hands to her cheeks as the horrified and dismayed faces of Nanny, Clarissa, and Felicity flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t bear to hurt them, to suffer their disdain, just as she knew she could never share Hugh with another, or have their babies born on the wrong side of the blanket.

  Doing a wrong to others never brought happiness or peace. She had no idea of her life before she came here, but no matter how much she loved him, she could not live as Hugh’s bit of muslin. And she refused to bring scandal down upon his head when it appeared others in the ton were keen to do so.

  But Hugh would help her now. He had promised and he was a man who kept his promises, although the realization brought her no measure of comfort.

  She lay down with a sigh.

  Oh, how impossible it all was! She should be devastated, but a smile lingered, as she recalled the pleasing weight of Hugh’s strong body atop hers, the exquisite feelings he provoked once the initial discomfort passed. She moaned and her face grew hot when she recalled what pleasure he had wrought with his hands, his body and his mouth.

  How could she now live without him?

  ****

  Hugh woke smiling, and shook his head in wonder at the memory of the previous night. He could blame the brandy for his lack of self-control, but Viola’s breathtaking loveliness tampered with his r
eason. He’d wished to give things time to develop, to win her over with his good character.

  Never mind. All would be well soon. They would have a wonderful life together. He remembered how she clung to him. How she moved under him.

  He looked forward to showing her more of lovemaking. She was so passionate!

  All the pleasures they would share together. A lifetime of sharing. He rolled over and groaned.

  Damn! He needed to be with her.

  He wanted so much to ask Viola to marry him. He wanted so much to protect her from whatever it was that had so terrified her. And he hoped he could attend to the matters ahead with Felicity’s parents with some semblance of grace, but he was determined now that the arrangement was at an end.

  If they disinherited Felicity, he must stand by her. She was such an innocent and the ton could be so cruel. They would find a way through this.

  After their meeting, he would ride to London. He prayed to God that the Bow Street Runners had discovered something of Viola’s past. All he could think of was when he and Viola could be wed, the sooner the better. He would take everything on his shoulders and protect her from the worst that Society could throw at them, which meant making his peace with Prinny. Eating humble pie if need be. In time, people would come to love Viola. She would make a fine Duchess, regal and beautiful.

  He rose and waved his valet away. “I need a portmanteau packed. After I write a letter, I’m riding to London.”

  “How long shall I pack for, Your Grace?”

  “A few days at most.”

  Hugh went to his writing desk, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and paused for a moment, thinking. The letter was composed with his mind conscious of haste, not etiquette. He read it again, blotted it, and applied the wax seal. Then, throwing back his chair, he called for his shaving water. He was eager to be gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The day Hugh departed for London; Viola went for her usual ride. First telling Nanny, she asked Ned, the stable boy, to saddle Molly for her. “Barton’s not here at present, Miss Viola,” the boy replied. “He’s gone on an urgent errand to the village.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have no need of a groom. I know my way blindfolded now, Ned.”

  She chose her usual route along the river and into the cool, dappled woods. Molly trotted along the path through the trees as her thoughts turned to the future. She hoped Hugh would return with important news. He had come to see her before he left, but could say little under Nanny’s watchful eye.

  Viola yearned to tell him she would never regret what happened between them. She had watched him ride away, her throat aching. Soon, she must leave him, but armed with his letter of recommendation at least, if not some knowledge of her past.

  The beauty of the wood lifted her spirits. Squirrels darted along tree branches, a graceful young deer danced away to safety, and a guinea fowl, disturbed from its nest, rose into the air.

  How she wished she could stay here forever. At a sound like a man’s cough, her peace evaporated. She chided herself for her fears. It could be a grounds man, workman or even the gamekeeper, but the hairs on the back of her neck stirred.

  Sensing she was watched, she turned Molly’s head and led the horse back the way they’d come. Aware that the birds had fallen silent, a chill ran up her spine. The beauty of the woods turned into something sinister. She urged the horse on, scolding herself for her ridiculous flight of fancy, when five or six more guinea fowl burst from the bushes ahead in a flurry of flapping wings.

  Molly whinnied.

  Heart thudding in her ears, Viola urged Molly into canter, but pulled back up on the reins when low tree branches threatened to detach her head from her shoulders. She would soon reach where the path widened and could urge the horse to go faster.

  She was almost clear of the thicket, when two men came out of the bushes at a run. A brute with a scarred face seized the bridle. She kicked out at them, her half-boot connecting with the smaller man’s chin.

  He fell back, cursing. Viola rode on through the thicket, losing all sense of direction. Sensing her fear, Molly whinnied and reared. As Viola fought to keep her seat, the beefy man with small cruel eyes grabbed her skirt. She slid backwards.

  Grasping her by the waist, he dragged her down from the horse.

  Viola’s scream was cut short by a dirty hand covering her mouth and nose. She fought him, terrified she would suffocate, her legs thrashing uselessly in the air.

  “Keep her still, Alf,” the other man hissed. He produced a bottle from his pocket and yanked out the stopper.

  Poison?

  Viola squirmed and struggled against the man’s hold, but he shook her like a doll.

  Her cry became a whimper as they forced her mouth open and poured a liquid that smelled of cloves down her throat.

  Viola spluttered and choked. She spat some out, but couldn’t avoid swallowing a good deal of it. When she tried to draw breath for another scream, they poured in some more. A strange languor possessed her limbs and her body grew heavy. She desperately tried to keep her eyes open, but her vision blurred and everything slid away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Something dug into Viola’s cheek. She raised her head from the button on the crimson velvet squabs and dizzily looked around.

  She was in a coach. One she recognized. She could hear the cracking of a whip. They were traveling very fast, the carriage rocking violently on its springs. She dragged herself up into a sitting position, her head fuzzy and strange.

  Waves of nausea rolled over her, making her afraid she’d vomit. Her hair fell into her eyes, half-blinding her, and she pulled it back with shaking fingers.

  She knew the fair-haired man sitting opposite her in a dark-blue greatcoat of Bath superfine. The tormenter of her dreams.

  “My sleeping beauty awakes. Viola, isn’t that the name you’ve been using?”

  A fury gripped her, tightening her stomach. She leaned forward, her hands curling into fists.

  “I know you murdered my father, Rupert.”

  “Did I? If I had it would have been a mercy surely.” He scowled. “I go to all this trouble to return you to your home and that’s the thanks I get? I even bought a new coat for the occasion.”

  “He was ill, but not on the verge of death that day,” she croaked, finding her throat horribly dry. She felt leaden, as if a physician had opened a vein and blood slowly drained from her body.

  “Why should I kill a dying man?”

  “I saw you come out of his room when I’d been gone for only a few minutes. I found him dead.” Her voice rose. “You were impatient, weren’t you? You’d waited years for this.” She clamped her lips on a sob. “And I could believe anything of you.”

  The memories came flooding back. The horror of that moment and the frantic dash, which followed, right up to the moment when she fell onto the road near Molton’s Cross.

  “So, Cousin, your memory has returned. Have you known for some time? And preferred to hide your secrets perhaps.” His eyes turned bright green. “While having a nice old time with the Duke of Vale. Romping together in the fields. Are you still an innocent?”

  It cut too close to the bone, but her anger helped her.

  “None of your business.”

  “Well, that’s where you are wrong, Cousin.” Rupert smiled thinly, his smooth-skinned face with the straight family nose as handsome as ever. He hadn’t inherited the family’s violet-blue eyes. His were green, flat, and oddly lifeless, like an autumn leaf just before it curls up and dies. They turned a vivid green when he was angry and when he gambled or rode some poor horse too hard. They were emerald now.

  Studying his arrogant face, she realized she had never completely trusted him. Those years spent together as children, when they’d run free and ridden together, even then she sensed he kept a part of himself hidden. Only now did she understand what drove him to that awful act of betrayal.

  How he had charmed her father. Poor Father. He had beli
eved, almost to the last, that he was leaving her in safe hands.

  She shuddered, looking at those hands now, remembering how cruel Rupert could be.

  He was talking. It was vital to keep him calm, to give her time to plan. Defeat seeped into her bones, into her very marrow.

  “Are you listening, Rosalind?” Rupert demanded. “You are not attending. Shall I repeat how much expense I have had to endure? And with my limited means.” His smile was more of a sneer, but she suspected it was designed to hide the blow to his pride. “Your running away has put my plans on hold far too long. We shall remedy that as soon as we are back at Merryville House.”

  She wondered what his mad plan was, but didn’t want to hear it. “How did you get past the gatekeeper at Vale Park?”

  He gave a smug smile. “We found a break in the wall, about a mile down the road.”

  “You cannot make me stay with you.”

  “You shall have to, my dear Rosie.” He examined his blue cuff, carefully brushing off a trace of dirt. “Your options are few and for most part unpleasant, and as far as I am aware, things have not changed.”

  “I’ve told the people at Vale Park about you. You must let me go.” Rosie heard the panic in her voice and bit her lip.

  Rupert leaned forward, placing his hands on the seat either side of her knees, his face close to hers. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled of alcohol. He was always too fond of drink and the dice. He had gambled away his inheritance long ago. He had committed himself to this dreadful act and must now be determined.

  “I sent my man to the village to distract Vale’s groom after I discovered your habit of riding every morning. Some things never change, eh? Easy to learn about the charming young woman with pale hair staying on the estate and living as the duke’s guest. She had lost her memory, and was found out on the road near Molton’s Cross.” He sat back in his seat again. “But the gossip centers more on how she was found. Dressed as a male servant? That’s infra dig, is it not, Cousin? I never suspected you capable of such a thing, I confess. Perhaps you’d like to tell me how you came there. Please fill me in on what has happened since we last met. I’m dying to know.”