The Spring Duchess (A Duchess for All Seasons Book 2)

by Jillian Eaton

  “Thank you for bringing her to me.” Ignoring the tiny quiver in her belly as she wondered just what sort of ‘midnight amends’ her husband had in mind, she walked purposefully across the room and gently lifted Henny out of his hand.

  Pressing a kiss upon the top of her pet’s head – while most hedgehogs were nocturnal, Henny had long ago adapted to Eleanor’s schedule – she deposited her in a wicker basket with a lid that hooked closed so Henny couldn’t go on anymore nighttime excursions. Tucking the basket into a closet where the sounds of thunder would be muffled, she turned back towards Derek just as another brilliant streak of lightning lit up the room.

  The blinding flash of white illuminated the duke’s countenance, and even though it only lasted for a split second it was long enough for Eleanor to see the dark desire in her husband’s gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as he prowled towards her, his steps as long and fluid as a panther, his ebony hair just as sleek and his eyes…his eyes glowing with a feral intensity she’d never seen before.

  “What – what are you doing?” she asked, swallowing nervously. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed there was nowhere for her to go as he advanced with a single-minded purpose. In four strides she was pinned against the chaise longue, the back of her knees pushing against the sumptuous velvet as she leaned away from him.

  “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

  “K-kiss me?” she ventured.

  “That’s a good place to start.” As thunder boomed and lightning flashed, Derek buried his hands in her unruly waterfall of auburn curls, tilted her head back, and plundered her mouth with his. After a moment of token hesitation – she may have been angry with him, but she so did enjoy kissing him – Eleanor parted her lips and welcomed the slide of his tongue into the dark recesses of her mouth.

  This kiss wasn’t like the others. She sensed that at once. There was intention behind it. A thrilling sense of something more to come. It was the beginning, not the middle. And not nearly close to the end.

  Her small hands splayed across his granite chest, fingers slipping beneath his open waistcoat to brush against the soft fabric of his shirt. Beneath the ivory linen she felt his muscles coil and clench, and her belly did the same when he cupped her breasts through the lace-trimmed bodice of her pale blue nightdress. His thumbs flicked across her dusky nipples and her head fell back, green eyes bright and glassy as she stared blindly up at the ceiling.

  “Do you like it when I touch you like this?” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp of sinful decadence against her flesh before he took her earlobe between his teeth and suckled. Incapable of speech she managed a jerky nod, and felt the rumble of husky laughter against her neck.

  “I’m going to touch you everywhere before we’re done. Here.” He squeezed her breast. “And here.” His hand trailed with tantalizing slowness down to her navel. “And especially here.” He cupped her womanhood and she gasped, her startled gaze flying to his face.

  Biologically she knew how intercourse worked. She’d read enough books on the subject to glean the basic mechanics of it all. Granted, they’d mostly been about animals, but procreation was procreation. The man’s genitalia went into the female’s genitalia and semen was released. On paper, it was all very matter-of-fact and to the point. But this wasn’t paper. Which was a very good thing, she thought dazedly, for if it were they’d surely burn the entire house down.

  He gave a light flick of his finger and heat bloomed between her thighs. Another flick and her knees wobbled. Shamelessly she spread her legs apart, her body instinctively yearning for more pleasure. She may have been a virgin inexperienced in the art of lovemaking, but she knew what she liked. And she was bold enough to ask for it.

  “What a greedy little temptress you are.” Derek captured her mouth again, taking long, slow pulls that mimicked the stroking of his finger as it burrowed deeper and deeper between her nest of curls, seeking – and finding – the most intimate part of her through the thin layer of her nightdress.

  She groaned when he abruptly withdrew his hand. Trembled when he began to kiss his way down her neck. Shivered when his clever fingers caught on the shoulders of her nightdress and slowly pulled it down until her breasts, pale as freshly fallen snow in the intermittent darkness, spilled free.

  Once the nightdress slithered past her hips it fell in a pool of white cotton at her feet. Embarrassment at being naked brought a dull flush of red to her chest and cheeks, but any discomfort was immediately forgotten when he picked her up and then gently lowered her onto the bed.

  Reclining back on a small mountain of pillows she watched through heavily lidded eyes as he undressed, starting with his waistcoat and ending with his trousers. Her eyes widened when she saw that part of him, smooth and pulsing and so large that if it weren’t for all of the books she’d read she never would have believed it was going to fit inside of her. As it stood she had her doubts, but they drifted away in a cloud of sensual pleasure when he lowered his body onto hers and began to kiss every inch of her until she was half mad with need and writhing with desire.

  Outside the windows the storm raged on, a wild tempest that paled in comparison to the raw strength of their passion. Reaching down to the floor, Derek yanked up his trousers and pulled a small glass vial no larger than a pill box out of one pocket.

  “What’s that?” Eleanor asked, sitting up on her elbows to watch in fascination as he unscrewed the top of the vial and poured its contents into his palm.

  “Olive oil. It will help ease the pain of your first time.” He kept his gaze steady on hers as he slathered his cock with the oil, then positioned himself on top of her. “Look at me,” he whispered when his hand, still slick with oil, dipped between her legs. He used two fingers to slowly and carefully ready her entrance, circling, stroking, stretching as she bit down hard on her bottom lip and wondered if it was possible for a person to spontaneously combust into flame. “Keep your eyes only on me.”

  Then he was sinking into her and at first she felt only pressure and the tiniest twinge of pain, but soon there was only wave after wave of undulating pleasure as he began to plunge deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips.

  Thunder crashed. Lightning erupted. And they both tumbled off the edge into oblivion.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Eleanor asked, one auburn brow arching.

  “Like what?” Derek replied, absently twirling a sprig of clover between his fingers. The clover was the same color as her eyes, a deep emerald that reminded him of the rolling hills of Scotland right before the heather took bloom and everything was dark and rich and green.

  It had been precisely thirteen days since their marriage had finally been consummated, but it already felt like a lifetime…in the best possible way. They spent every night wrapped in each other’s arms and every afternoon, after Eleanor had tended to her animals and he’d seen to his work, they explored the estate like children, each day seeking a new and exciting adventure.

  Thus far they had gone galloping through the fields on horseback, climbed to the top of the highest turret, played a rousing game of chess in the library, and taken a (very cold) midnight dip in the pond sans clothing. Today they’d packed a picnic basket and taken an early dinner on one of the side lawns overlooking the horse pastures where a herd of mares and their foals frolicked and played.

  Through Eleanor’s eyes he had begun to see Hawkridge in a new light. When he was with her the ghosts of his past faded away and he was able to appreciate the castle for what it was now instead of loathing what it had been.

  Instead of a prison, he saw promise. Instead of inconvenience, he saw opportunity. And instead of a wife he wanted to forget, he saw a woman he always wanted to remember.

  “Like you don’t hate me,” she said, leaning forward to pluck another piece of roasted chicken out of the basket. Ignoring the utensils a maid had thoughtfully packed, she ate with her bare hands, nibbling the chicken down to
the bone before tossing the scraps to the two pigs that had followed them on their little excursion and were now sitting side by side like expertly trained dogs.

  “I don’t hate you.” Derek’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. Is that what she still thought? That he hated her? He supposed he couldn’t blame her, given the monstrous way he’d behaved. He’d called Eleanor a savage, but in truth he was the barbaric one. By forcing himself to see her as nothing more than a means to an end, he had treated her with unnecessary cruelty. Cruelty that he now regretted down to the depths of his soul.

  He’d tried to make up for his behavior the same way he always had: with expensive gifts. His mistresses had always forgiven him any transgression – real or imaginary – for a pretty piece of glitter. But his wife had gently declined each and every present he tried to give her.

  ‘I don’t need jewelry or furs or fancy dresses,’ she told him one morning when they’d lain sprawled on their backs on top of the coverlet, their bodies covered with a thin sheen of perspiration after making love as the sun rose in the east. ‘I would much rather have time.’

  ‘Time?’ he’d asked, his brow furrowing.

  ‘Time with you. Time with my animals. Time with myself. Time is more special than all the jewels in the world because it can never be bought, only given. Give me time, and I shall be the happiest woman in the world’.

  So that’s what he’d done. He had given her time. It was the least expensive – albeit the most important – gift he had ever bestowed.

  Their marriage was still far from perfect. They’d had an argument just that morning about where the new carriage barn was going to be built. And even though he had walked away in a fit of anger – Eleanor knew exactly what strings to pull to get under his skin – he had quickly returned. He would always return. Because for the first time in his life, he’d allowed a relationship to become personal. And it may not have been perfect or easy, but that was what made it so right.

  “I’ve never hated you,” he continued, his gaze seeking and finding hers. “It’s just that…I was never expecting you. I wasn’t adequately prepared.”

  A smile hovered in the corners of her mouth. “You make me sound like a storm.”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “That’s precisely what you are.”

  Her smile was replaced with a perplexed frown. “Well that doesn’t sound very good. No one likes storms. They’re disruptive and damaging.”

  “Yes,” he repeated. “They are. But sometimes they’re exactly what’s needed to wash away the old and make way for the new. Without storms we wouldn’t have lightning or thunder or the wild rush of cool rain on a hot summer’s night. Without storms nature would be dull and meaningless. One day running into the next with nothing to break up the monotony of it all.” Leaning over the basket he gently cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re my storm Eleanor,” he murmured against her lips. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  On a soft, dreamy sigh Eleanor leaned into the kiss.

  A storm, she thought with no small amount of delight as Derek nibbled lazily at her bottom lip. It was the least complimentary compliment he’d ever given her. And all the more perfect because of it.

  If someone told her she and the duke would be kissing over a picnic supper less than one month after his return to Hawkridge, she would have laughed herself into a fit. Yet here they were, sitting in the middle of the lawn with a basket between them and Sir Galahad and Lancelot chaperoning from a distance.

  The last two weeks had been the most magical of her life. Not because she had discovered lovemaking – well, not only because she’d discovered lovemaking – but because she had finally discovered her husband. It may have taken eleven months and twenty-nine days, but at long last she’d found the man behind the mask. And he was everything she ever could have hoped for.

  Gone was the cad who had mocked her and demanded she give up her animals. In his place was the man who had given her her very first kiss. The valiant knight who had saved Donald from the housekeeper and rescued Henny from the thunderstorm. The charming rogue who had, against all odds, managed to steal her heart.

  All that being said, he was still a scoundrel and they still fought like cats and dogs. But that was part of their appeal. Despite what he’d said in the carriage barn out of anger, Derek did not want her to be anyone other than who she was. He told her as much the morning after they’d made love when the first light of dawn had yet to steal across the sky and she’d been tucked into the hard concave of his body.

  ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before,’ he’d told her, one hand absently combing through her tangled curls. ‘I used to think that was a bad thing. But now I know it’s your greatest asset. Never change, Eleanor. Even if someone is stupid enough to ask you to.’

  To date, it was the second best compliment he’d ever given her.

  “We need to stop,” she murmured, pushing lightly against his chest when she felt his fingers unbuttoning the back of her dress.

  “Why?” he asked as his lips worked their way down her throat.

  “Because…because I think I hear someone coming up the drive.”

  “Let them come. I certainly intend to,” he said, mouth curving in a wicked grin against her bare shoulder as he pulled her sleeve down. She batted his hand away.

  “Derek, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Fine,” he sighed. Giving her one last kiss, he stood up and shrugged on his waistcoat. “But if this is anyone less than the king himself, I’m coming back here and – bloody hell.”

  “What?” Alarmed by the dark shadow that stole across his countenance as he turned to look at the drive and the shiny black coach rolling up it, Eleanor scrambled to her feet and hastily straightened her bodice. “Do you know who that is?” she asked, watching as a tall, thin man alighted from the carriage and, after a surreptitious glance at the manor, proceeded directly inside.

  “Yes,” Derek said grimly.

  “And?”

  “You’re better off not knowing. This will only take a few minutes.”

  “I’ll go with you.” She started to follow him, but he stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him.

  “It’s better if you remain here.”

  “But I–”

  “Eleanor.” His jaw tensed. “Please.”

  “Very well,” she said, even though she had absolutely no intention of staying put. “But only if you promise to tell me who that man is when you return.”

  He pressed a distracted kiss to her brow. “I promise.”

  She waited until he’d gone around the front of the house before she picked up her skirts and dashed around the back. Using the servant’s entrance, she slipped through the kitchens and down the hall.

  It was easy to find where her husband had gone. All she had to do was follow the sound of raised voices to the front drawing room. The door had been left slightly ajar and she felt only the slightest twinge of guilt as she peeked inside. If Derek hadn’t wanted her to eavesdrop then he should have at least told her who the man was that had instantly put him in such a bad mood. It wasn’t her fault she had a healthy dose of curiosity.

  Her husband stood with his back to her, his rugged frame partially obscuring the thin stranger so all she saw was one sharp blue eye and a flattened lick of black hair. Georgiana, dressed in black and looking supremely bored, sat on the sofa with Mr. Pumpernickel perched on her lap. Over the past few weeks the two had taken a liking to one another and it was rare to see them apart.

  “…know you’re not welcome here, Norton,” said Derek tersely. She couldn’t see his face, but his tension was obvious in the rigid line of his shoulders.

  “I’m family, aren’t I?” The stranger – Norton – replied with an insolent sneer that immediately put a bad taste in Eleanor’s mouth. If he really was family it must have been a distant relation, for with the exception of their hair color he and Derek looked nothing alike.

  “You sh
ould have sent a calling card, dear cousin.” This from Georgiana who was looking at Norton as if he were something she’d just had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. “At least then we would have known to hide the silver.”

  “Georgie. Pleasant as ever, I see.” Norton’s attention flicked back to Derek. He smiled thinly. “You know very well why I’m here. The timing of the will was quite specific.”

  The will? Eleanor’s brow knitted with confusion. What will?

  “With one day to go, I decided to see for myself if you’ve met the terms our dearly departed grandfather set forth. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, Derek. Truly I don’t.” Norton’s sigh was annoyingly long. “But the will was quite clear, I’m afraid.”

  “I know the bloody terms of the will,” Derek snapped. “Say what you’ve come to say and then get the hell out. My patience is wearing thin.”

  “Very well. I hesitate to speak so bluntly in front of a lady.” His gaze swerved back to Georgiana as an insolent smirk twisted his narrow lips. “Which is why I’m glad there isn’t one here.”

  A growl that was more beast than man tore bubbled up from Derek’s throat. “Insult my sister again,” he said in a deceptively soft voice, “and it will be the last thing you do.”

  “What’s a little teasing between family? Fine, fine,” he said when Derek took a menacing step in his direction. “No need to get violent. No need at all. This is why Grandfather put that last little caveat in the will, you know. Because he knew you weren’t suited to be a duke. You haven’t the temperament for it.”

  “You’d have Hawkridge run into the ground before the year was out,” Georgiana said disdainfully. “Everyone knows you’re out of money, Norton. And desperate enough to do anything to get your hands on my brother’s inheritance. I almost feel sorry for you.”

  “Save your pity for yourself when I toss you out on your ear,” Norton spat as his face blanched and then turned a deep, dull red. “Enough of these games. The will was clear, and it will hold up in any court. So has the marriage been consummated or not? You’ve only two days left.”