When a Duke Loves a Woman

by Lorraine Heath

  “You want to take me to your estate?”

  “You said you’ve never been outside of London. We’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

  The thought of leaving what she knew filled her with dread, but then a good part of her life had been doing things that filled her with dread only to be grateful later that she had. But the dread had never been this great. “I can’t afford to neglect my business any more than I already have.”

  “Pity.”

  He sounded as disappointed as she felt. “Still, I’ll think on it.”

  “While you do that, I’ll get muddled. To be honest, based on the past week, I’m surprised I haven’t turned to copious drinking sooner.”

  Men were so unattractive when three sheets in the wind. “The drinks will not be on the house.”

  “I don’t expect them to be.”

  “Don’t you have clubs for this sort of thing?”

  “Ah, yes, but people know me there and gossip will abound.”

  “People know you here.”

  “Not as many.”

  She wouldn’t be able to keep running over with drinks. She’d have to let her girls do it. With their fine figures and the jutting out they’d be doing, if he returned to the tavern after tonight, it wouldn’t be to see her. She didn’t much like the jealousy that swept through her. Still, he wasn’t hers, would never be hers, and she’d always prided herself on being a realist. “You should be forewarned I leave gents where they pass out.”

  He grinned, his eyes sparkling with teasing. “Warning noted.”

  “I’ll bring you another whisky.”

  “You might as well fill it to the brim.”

  When she stood, so did he. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him.

  “But I want to.”

  “If gents stood up every time I neared, they’d be popping up and down all night.”

  “Then I shall pop up and down all night.”

  She did wish his response didn’t please her so much, but she had a good many more things to keep an eye on than one customer. “I’m going to have one of my girls bring you your drinks.”

  “As you wish.”

  It wasn’t what she wished, but too much time in his company was likely to make her wish he’d ask other things of her, things that involved going to his estate and doing something other than messing about with horses.

  He’d spent many a night in taverns and public houses, drinking the swill, talking with his mates, laughing uproariously about nothing at all, and having a jolly good time so that when waking with a pounding head he could claim the discomfort worth it. But he’d never simply sat in a corner alone, sipping on his whisky, and observing the small details and intricacies of the world that surrounded him, of the woman who fascinated him.

  She had to be exhausted, yet her smiles never faltered, she never gave the appearance of impatience. Now and then when someone said something to her, she would laugh, the sound reaching out, circling about, causing others to smile, causing something to stir deep within his chest that lightened his mood more than the whisky. Watching her, he realized she served more than drinks. She served up an attentive ear, a kind word, a soft smile, an occasional laugh. She created an atmosphere of warmth and welcome.

  He found himself becoming drunk on her rather than on the spirits she offered.

  She’d made a good point: he could have indulged at the club. But he hadn’t because he’d needed something more than amber liquid spreading warmth through his chest. He’d needed her.

  He wanted her to himself, yet she belonged to all these people. Like him, they came here because of her, because she offered more than a glass of escape. She offered hope that on the morrow, the reasons that had brought them here wouldn’t seem so dire.

  She’d opened her tavern here because she’d recognized she was needed, but the hell of it was he believed she could have opened her tavern anywhere and met with success, because she offered people a portion of her heart. Without thought, without guile, without expecting anything in return. She was incredibly—

  The three empty chairs around his table were scraped across the floor, turned about, and straddled by her brothers, crossing their arms over the backs. It seemed to be a night for the Trewlove men to make their presence known. “Gents,” he said calmly.

  “Thought you might buy us a pint,” Aiden said.

  “Gladly, although I’d have not thought she charged you.”

  Aiden grinned. “She doesn’t, but her till can use the coins.” He twisted around, held up a hand and three fingers. “Polly, love, three brews.”

  The lass gave him a smile, the same one she’d flashed at Thorne a few times, that indicated she’d be willing to give him other things as well. Aiden turned back around. “Isn’t there a club somewhere in need of your presence?”

  “I wanted to ensure Gillie was recovering from the blow she took to the head last night.”

  “Tell me you didn’t take advantage.”

  “I didn’t take advantage.”

  “Tell me you won’t.”

  He ground his back teeth together. “Nothing will happen between us that she doesn’t want to happen.”

  “She’s not to be a duke’s plaything,” Beast said.

  “I hadn’t intended to make her one.”

  Leaning forward, Aiden placed his forearms on the table. “You see, the three of us have mothers who were playthings of the nobility. Finn and I have the same father. He was delivered to Ettie Trewlove’s door six weeks after I was. The man had a harem of mistresses. Gillie is not going to become your mistress. We won’t let her be hurt in that manner.”

  Thorne decided, no matter how he responded, they would either not believe him or find fault with his response. There was no love lost here, no trust to be had. “So you’re all some nobleman’s by-blow. Related to me by any chance?”

  “No,” Finn stated flatly. “The man who sired Aiden and me was a notorious earl.”

  “Listen, gents, I appreciate your concern for your sister—”

  “I’m not certain you do,” Aiden stated flatly, “because if you did you’d be walking out—”

  Liquid suddenly rained down over his head, and he jumped to his feet, sputtering and cursing. “What the devil, Gil?”

  She stood there, holding two mugs filled with brew in one hand, an empty mug in the other. Thorne had been so focused on her brother he hadn’t seen her arrive.

  “Polly said you wanted beer,” she said.

  “To drink, not to bathe in.”

  “It didn’t look to be a friendly conversation.”

  “He’s spending too much time here.”

  “That’s my business, not yours.” She gave her other two brothers a hard glare. “You can take your mug, full of beer, and go sit elsewhere or I can pour it over you and you can take your leave.”

  Thorne rose. “Actually, I was on the verge of offering to buy them a drink.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You want their company?”

  “I welcome it, yes.”

  “They’re not trying to chase you off?”

  “I’m not one to be chased.”

  She studied him for a full minute before giving a nod. “I suppose you’re not.” She set a mug in front of each of the two sitting brothers, pulled a towel from the waistband of her skirt and handed it to Aiden. “Dry yourself off, clean up the mess I made, and I’ll send Polly over with another beer.”

  “We’re just looking out for you, Gil,” Aiden said.

  She patted his cheek. “I don’t need looking after.”

  She glanced at Thorne, and he wondered what it might take for her to come over and pat his cheek—or better yet, give him a kiss. That should send her brothers through the roof. Her gaze dropped to his tumbler, still half full. “I don’t think you understand the art of getting fuddled. You should have had three of those by now.”

  He’d been nursing the one, filled to the brim, she’d brought him. “I prefer to savor.
But feel free to send another over with your brother’s beer.”

  After she gave a nod and walked away, Thorne retook his seat.

  “So why invite us to stay?” Finn asked.

  “Because I want you to tell me what Gillie was like growing up.”

  The brothers exchanged secretive smiles.

  “A hellion,” Aiden said as he dropped into his chair.

  She wasn’t quite certain she trusted all the smiles and laughter going on at the table in the rear of her establishment, as she rather suspected she was their main topic of conversation, because every now and then Finn or Beast would glance over at her, looking quite guilty as they did it. They were no doubt telling tales on her.

  “Your brothers seem to be getting on with your gent,” Roger said.

  She was weary of stating that Thorne wasn’t her gent so she overlooked that portion of his comment. “I suspect they’re sizing him up.”

  “As any loving brother would. Probably issuing a few dire warnings, too.”

  They meant well but she was no longer a child in need of their protection. She glanced over at the clock and saw it was nearing midnight. “Time to close up shop.”

  “Right-o. Hear, hear, mates! Finish up! Five minutes and out you go!” He began wiping down the counter. She went out into the main part to help her girls start clearing the tables as people departed.

  “’Night, Gillie,” many called out to her as they headed for the door. This was her favorite part of the night, giving a hug here and there, offering a kind word to someone who might not sleep so well that night. It was also her least favorite as she hauled a few gents to their feet and worked to keep them on a straight path to the door. The worst moments came when someone got all blubbery. It didn’t happen often, but it was an embarrassment for both of them, especially when next they saw each other.

  As usual, her brothers were the last to wander out.

  “He’s not such a bad sort,” Aiden said as he hugged her tightly.

  “He’s smooth,” Finn said as his arms came around her. “I don’t trust him.” But then he wouldn’t, not under any circumstances. Once he’d trusted the nobility and it had cost him dearly.

  Beast was next, his embrace always her favorite because his size allowed him to envelope her in a safe and comforting cocoon. “Take care with your heart.”

  She wanted to ensure him that she always did, but doubts regarding that particular skill were beginning to haunt her. She was keenly aware she fancied Thorne far more than was wise for a woman who owned a tavern. After seeing her brothers out, she turned, expecting Thorne to be waiting to have a word with her. Instead, following the example set by the men who worked for her, he was lifting chairs onto tables so the serving girls could go through more easily with brooms and mops. He’d set his jacket and waistcoat on the counter, rolled up his sleeves. She could see Polly and Lily fairly slavering at the sight of his magnificent forearms. With a quickness to her step, she crossed over to him. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “If I help, the chore will be done more quickly, which means you can get out of here sooner. You have to be exhausted.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “So tonight you’ll have a few extra minutes to yourself.”

  Had he forgotten himself, his status? She very much doubted it. “A few extra minutes will be welcomed.”

  It was amazing how much more swiftly everything got done with an extra pair of hands. He didn’t balk at hauling kegs or boxing up the empty bottles, but he pitched in, taking on any chore asked of him. When all was done and her staff had made their exits through the front door, she turned to watch as he once again made himself presentable. “Thank you for everything,” she said.

  “I’m not finished yet. I’ll be seeing you safely home.”

  “I can get my own self home. I do it every night.”

  “Not tonight.”

  Seeing no point in arguing with him, she locked the front door. “We’ll go out through the back, and check on Robin.”

  The lad was asleep in his small bed beside the fireplace, the book Thorne had given him tucked up against his chest. Tenderly she brushed her fingers through his hair, then brought the covers up over him. After making certain all the lights were dimmed, and strolling through one more time to reassure herself all was secure, she led Thorne out through the rear exit and locked the door behind them. She wasn’t surprised when he took her hand, tucked it within the crook of his elbow, and escorted her down the short flight of steps and toward the taller ones that led to her flat. When they reached the stairs, she turned to face him.

  “I’ll see you up,” he said before she could make any remarks.

  “Your thigh—”

  “Is well on the mend. I’m disappointed you haven’t noticed I have barely any limp at all. Go on with you.”

  “You’re a stubborn duke.” Still, up she went, with him following one step behind. When she reached the landing, she once again turned to him, standing only slightly higher than he because he hadn’t taken that final step. “I always sit here for a while to absorb the quiet. Would you care to join me?”

  The only light came from distant streetlamps, but still she saw his flash of a smile. “I would indeed.”

  She quickly lowered herself to the landing, her feet supported on a lower step, and waited as he worked his way down until he was sitting beside her, their hips and thighs touching because the stairs were quite narrow. Placing her hands between her knees, squeezing, she closed her eyes, dropped back her head, and inhaled deeply, letting the tension slip away. “My favorite moment of the night,” she said on a long sigh.

  “Watching you, I would have sworn you loved working in the tavern.”

  Opening her eyes, she gave a little shrug. “I do. Truly. It’s only that there’s so much noise—people talking, laughing, glasses hitting the table, or sometimes hitting the floor, orders shouted—some nights I feel as though my soul is being pummeled. A dress shop would have been quieter, but I haven’t a talent for creating patterns or doing fine stitchery.”

  “You did well enough stitching up the holes in my clothing.”

  “Well enough will not bring a seamstress loyal clientele.”

  “I suppose not. Your clientele seems quite loyal.”

  “For some it’s a place of refuge from the harshness in their life.” She squeezed her knees even tighter, until her hands ached. “I’m surprised Polly didn’t offer to take you home with her.”

  “She did, but I wasn’t interested.”

  Snapping her head around, she couldn’t imagine it. Polly was all bouncing energy, ample bosom, and wide hips. She gave a man something solid to hold onto. “Why not?”

  His bare hand came up and cradled her chin, his thumb stroking the curve of her cheek all the way down to the corner of her mouth. “Because she doesn’t intrigue me. You do.”

  She’d never had any trouble breathing out here, but suddenly the wisps of fog rolling in threatened to take away all the air. “You might be more fuddled than I thought.”

  “I’m hardly fuddled at all.”

  “I’d expected to have to haul you out and to your carriage.”

  “I’m not one to imbibe to excess—well, except when my bride runs off. Then I seem to lose my ability to think clearly. However, I have ceased to curse my idiocy. Because of it, I became acquainted with you.”

  As well as some of the more scandalous members of her family. “What were you and my brothers laughing about?”

  “They were telling me about a little girl who used to chase after them, always caught them. She was so fast, people thought she was a lad. You mentioned you wore your brothers’ clothing until you were older. Is that the reason you bind your breasts? Because you’re not comfortable being seen as a woman?”

  “My mum always told me I needed to hide the things men fancied. Otherwise they wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “You don’t have to hide anything about yourself. Not anymore.”


  “It’s a habit now.”

  “Habits can be broken. You deserve undergarments of silk, satin, and lace.”

  She furrowed her brow. “You think of my undergarments?”

  “I think of you in undergarments. I would purchase you some if I didn’t think you’d toss them in the rubbish bin.”

  He made her wish that, at that very moment, she wore something provocative beneath her clothing, something he might take pleasure in removing. She shouldn’t want him to divest her of her attire—and yet she did. She licked her lips. He moved his thumb over so it rested against the center of her mouth.

  “You did that when you were feeding me broth. Drove me mad to watch that little tongue dart out.”

  “You ordered me to stop.”

  “Because I was in danger of embarrassing myself. One thing that makes you so intriguing, Gillie, is that you are so unaware of your ability to drive a man to distraction. I have no other woman in my life to whom I must remain loyal, which means I am at liberty, if you are willing, to do this.”

  He moved slowly as though fearful she might bolt, might shove him down the stairs, kick him in his bad leg, react in a way to indicate she didn’t want what he was about to do. But she did want it, desperately. She had been thinking about it, dreaming about it, ever since he’d first kissed her, had feared he’d found it unappealing since he had refrained from kissing her again.

  But now as his lips touched hers, his mouth settled in, his groan echoed around her, she realized he’d only been acting a gentleman because she’d been injured. And he was acting a gentleman no more.

  She parted her lips on a sigh and it was the invitation he needed to take the kiss deeper, to sweep his tongue through her mouth, drag her onto his lap—the ease with which he did astounded her, as she’d obviously misjudged his strength and her willingness to be handled thus—hold her nearer until her breasts were flat against his chest. She wanted to push him down and lie along the entire wondrous length of him. She felt his hard cock pressing against her hip, astonished it had reacted to her nearness. No other man had ever given any indication she was in the least bit desirable. Although to be honest, she’d never wanted to be desired by a man—not until him, not until the duke had ended up in her bed.