He looked up at her in astonishment, and then reached up and touched her face, his hands on her cheeks. He began to move with her, underclothes and britches rubbing together, the friction burning into her womanhood, into hot-spot on the outside: the pleasure-spot. He put his finger in her mouth and she suckled it as she gyrated.
Katherine moved faster and faster, the friction becoming hotter and hotter until she could barely handle it. The Duke had two fingers in her mouth, and looked up in astonishment as she suckled them. Her eyes were fixed on his pleasure-filled face. She rubbed her womanhood against him harder and harder. She felt it coming—surprised, as she always was—the unstoppable pleasure. She closed her eyes—and it released.
She moaned loudly, riding the Duke harder and faster as the pleasure surged through her. The Duke pushed his fingers further into her mouth and then he, too, was moaning. She felt his cock pulse and quiver as he spilled his seed in his britches. When it was over, Katherine got to her feet. After a moment, the Duke did the same.
“My lady,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“Yes?” she said, looking up at him sweetly.
“You are not like other women at all, are you?” he breathed.
“No, Duke,” she said. “I am truly not. Shall we walk to the pond, see if the ducks are up to anything amusing?”
A smile touched Harry’s lips. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That sounds fine. Take my hand.” It wasn’t a question. He grabbed her hand before she had a chance to reply. He squeezed it; she squeezed his in return.
They left the wood and walked toward the pond. All the while Katherine was thinking about what they had done, and about what they could do. Once she had been called the Lady of Lust. It was meant as an insult: something to shame her. But she did not see the shame in it at all.
*****
Two weeks passed where she only saw the Duke at breakfast. Nothing further happened and they did not discuss what had happened in the woods. Katherine sensed that Harry was embarrassed about it, and she saw no reason to push the matter, even though she was not embarrassed one bit. When they met, it was awkward and uncomfortable—on the surface. But beneath the apparent awkwardness there lurked a lust and a pent-up passion. Katherine had to stop herself from trying to make something else happen. And she knew, from the way they Duke looked at her, his eyes dwelling on her lips, on her hands, that he was struggling too. She wanted to make him see that there was nothing wrong in their attraction, but she was not so sure of that either.
She knew that there was nothing wrong with it as far as they were concerned? So what if they wanted each other? But she knew she lived in a world of sentimental and mad novels wherein this sort of thing happened all the time. In reality, there were social constructs to consider. After what they had done, the usual, honorably thing Duke should do is to propose to her. Katherine took it as a good sign that he hadn’t done that. Perhaps he was as different from ordinary men as she was from ordinary women.
Another week passed. Time and time again Duke said at breakfast: “I will be leaving the Castle soon to hunt for this madman. Then I will be returning to France. I have been away long enough already.” But every morning the maidservant came and asked her if she would like to join the Duke for breakfast; and every day he was there, waiting for her.
In the third week the Duke invited her to dine with him. Hitherto she had been dining alone. She took the opportunity to wear the necklace Mother had given her for her birthday last year. It was glittery and drew attention to her half-covered chest. When she entered, Harry almost jumped from his seat. Katherine hid a smile behind her hand and walked forth as calm-faced as she could.
“I am glad you decided to join me,” he said.
“I am glad you decided to invite me,” Katherine replied. “It was a surprise, as I have sensed some distance between us since the day in the woods.”
“Well, yes,” Harry said stiffly. “I suppose there has been. It has been rather awkward, hasn’t it? I have just been thinking about… Thinking about things.”
“What things, may I ask?”
The Duke made to talk, and then waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
Food and wine was served. The Duke gripped his cup and drank eagerly. Katherine drank more slowly. She had only ever been intoxicated twice in her life, and she’d found it a jarring experience both times. She had not been able to think and even her steps had become wobbly. The Duke was on his fourth cup when she had just finished her first.
He looked up into her eyes, his face stern and set. “You are a monstrously beautiful woman,” he said. “I saw you once before, but you will not know it.”
“Really?” Katherine said. She could not remember ever meeting him.
“It was a year ago, when your cousin and I visited your home. You were out when we were there – at the fare, your mother told us – but I saw you when we were leaving, through the curtains of the carriage. You were holding your dress above your knees as you walked across the moors. Ghastly, your cousin said. I said nothing. I was too busy. Too busy watching you.”
“And did you like what you saw, Harry?”
“You see!” he cried. “I do not know how to speak to you! You are so unlike other women! Another woman might think that, but she would never say it! Another woman would pretend to be scandalized; would pretend that she was shocked by what I had said. But you just say exactly what you think!”
Not exactly, she thought. If I said exactly what I thought I would have been cast out long ago. “Is that a problem?” she said, taking a small sip of wine.
“I cannot stop thinking about our time in the woods together,” he said. “Katherine, it was amazing.”
“It was,” she agreed.
“I have a question for you, my lady.”
“Hmm?”
He looked down at his glass, and then back up into her eyes. His hands were trembling slightly, a strange sight as he was the burliest, toughest-looking man she had ever met. Little me can make the Duke of Fire tremble? “Katherine,” he said. “I have been thinking about you all the time. I want to touch you, down there. It is a horrid thing to say – a scandalous thing – but it is the truth. I want to rub you down there and give you pleasure.”
Katherine felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. Her body seemed more alive, more real. Warmth spread through her legs and up to her chest. “How long have you thought of this, Harry?” Katherine said, her hand creeping under the table. She placed her fingers on her womanhood through her dress, the pleasure dancing on her fingertips. “How long have you thought about touching me?”
“Ever since the woods,” Harry said earnestly. “I cannot stop thinking about it. I want to feel my hands on you.”
“Do it, then,” Katherine said, moving her hand quicker under the table.
The Duke stood up and walked to the doors. He locked one, and then the other. He returned to the table and stood over her. “Stand up,” he said. Without waiting for a response, he gripped her shoulders and lifted her to her feet as though she weighed nothing. “Lift your dress,” he said, in a commanding tone.
Katherine reached down and bunched her dress around her fists and lifted it. The Duke pulled down her under garment, baring her womanhood. She was wet and hot and more excited than she had ever been. He placed his hand on her leg, closing his eyes and sighing with pleasure. Then he moved his hand up. His fingers brushed her sweet spot: the spot she had so often rubbed alone at night, when thinking of the Duke. These past three weeks she had thought of him almost every night. And now here it is happening in real life.
She let out a moan of pleasure. He looked at her in surprise, and then a faint smile touched his lips. “It feels good when I touch you there, my lady?”
“Yes,” she moaned, as his fingers danced across her sweet spot. He pressed his middle finger hard against the spot and rubbed side to side fast. She moaned louder and louder. “Yes, Duke, yes, yes, yes.”
The pleasure was movi
ng through her now, from her womanhood into her body, tingling every inch of her. She moaned louder and louder until she had to clamp her hand over her mouth not to scream. He pressed down ever harder and heat exploded down there. She closed her eyes and saw white-hot eat on her vision, like looking into sunlight with your eyes closed.
She kept rubbing but she could no longer feel the individual movements. All she could feel was the heat, the massive and awesome heat, the heat that pervaded every part of her. She closed her eyes even tighter and then it all released, washing over her in one great wave. “Yes,” she sighed, as her body slumped in released pleasure.
“You are done, my lady?” the Duke said.
“Yes, yes,” Katherine said. “Now let me see to you, my Duke.”
She didn’t give him a chance to protest. Sliding to her knees, she pulled his britches down in one quick movement. His manhood sprang up, huge and hard, bigger than any she had ever seen. She reached up with her hand and grabbed the base. He let out a moan. She looked up, pleased to see the pleasure written upon his expression.
Then she moved her hand up and down, gripping his manhood hard. She opened her mouth and took the tip of his manhood in her mouth. He looked down, astonished. She worked the base of his manhood with her hand and bobbed her mouth up and down on the tip. His body lurched and gyrated as she sucked him. She moved her hand faster and faster.
“You can spill your seed in my mouth,” she said, and then started sucking again.
“Oh, my lady,” he breathed, his hands resting in her hair. “My lady…”
She sucked and rubbed faster and harder, moving her head up and down, up and down, until his body jolted and seized up. His seed spilled out of his manhood into her mouth. Katherine swallowed as it poured into her mouth, swallowing it all down. She stood and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Sitting back in her seat, she watched the Duke return to his, pulling his britches up around his waist. “I never knew a man and woman could share so much pleasure,” he whispered. “It was incredible.”
“It was,” Katherine agreed.
“Will you allow me to visit your bedchambers in the night, perhaps tomorrow?”
Katherine thought about it, but not for long. Her body was responsive to his. When she was with him it was like no other man she had ever been with. He is a Duke, after all. She knew what she was going to say before she said it. “Yes. I would like that very much.”
“Very well,” he said. Then he repeated, as though they had just finalized a business agreement: “Very well.”
*****
It was two weeks before the Duke came to her bedchambers, but it was not what she had dreamed of. Instead of sneaking into her bed, his hands roaming over her, he charged in out of breath with his sword in hand. “Oh, thank God,” he said, searching the room. “My lady, you must dress immediately.”
“Why, what is it?” Katherine said, not trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. Dress? That’s the opposite of what we were supposed to be doing. “What has happened?”
“The killer, he is somewhere on the grounds. The guards I posted have been murdered. One managed to escape, but the rascal has fled the grounds in fear of the madman. There was just one man, he told me. There was just one man and he killed five of us! Apparently he emerged from the trees like a phantom, scaring the men into immobility. Damn rascals!” He stamped his foot down. “They leave a Duke and a Lady defenseless! They will be punished for this!”
Katherine dressed as swiftly as she was able, and then followed the Duke into the hallway. “Where will we go?” she said.
“The library,” Harry said. “It has one entrance and no windows. There is small chance of him catching us unaware there. We must hurry. We do not know where he could be hiding. One man, ha!”
Katherine collected her cane-sword, knowing it might come in useful if this man proved to be as dangerous as he sounded. Harry took her hand and pulled her through the Castle, under old landscape paintings and mounted beasts, down twisting hallways and around corners, until they arrived at a room with a dusty wooden door and an old, ornate handle. The Duke pushed the door opened and ushered Katherine inside.
When they were inside, Harry searched amongst the stacks, making sure that the man wasn’t already in the room. When he was sure the man wasn’t in here, the two of them sat with their backs to the wall facing the door. Harry laid his sword across his knees and narrowed his eyes. “He will pay,” he said, his voice as unflinching and self-assured as she had heard it. “He will not get away with this.”
Even now, Katherine found herself thinking about how handsome and courageous the Duke looked. He was still in his undershirt and night-britches. Katherine could see his muscles showing through his shirt, his hard, immovable muscles. She felt sort for the madman that was going to confront him. They sat for a long time, until the sun began to rise, but there was no sight of the madman.
Katherine yawned. “Do you think he has left?”
“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “You learn in war that the enemy wants you to think you’re safe before they strike. That’s when you’re at your most vulnerable.”
“It is not different to lovemaking, then?”
The Duke looked at her in disbelief, and then smiled indulgently. “That it is, my lady.”
She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You will kill him,” she said calmly. “I know you will.”
“You are so unlike other women, Katherine,” Harry said. “You are not weeping or begging to be rescued. In fact, you do not seem that shaken at all.”
“Either he will kill us or we will kill him,” Katherine said. “Crying and weeping won’t change that at all.”
Harry shook his head and smiled. “Come here,” he said. “I want to kiss you.”
She inched over on the seat and looked up at him. Taking one hand from his sword, he placed it on the back of her neck and pulled her toward him inexorably. Their lips touched, their teeth clicked, their tongues danced. She grabbed his thigh and rubbed her hand up and down, lust taking hold of her. The Duke breathed heavily but then broke off the kiss. “We must deal with this first,” he said. “Or else—”
The door crashed open, almost coming off its hinges with the force. A man entered. He was short and stocky and held the same saber the man who attacked Katherine had held. Katherine unsheathed her rapier from her cane and stood next to Harry, whose had already risen to his feet and had his sword pointed toward the man.
“I want nothing to do with you,” the man said to the Duke. “It’s her I want.”
“Why?” Katherine said reasonably. “What have I done to you?”
“It was your father!” he blurted, in his London accent. “Before he died, we met at an inn and played cards together. I was just back from the war and I bet everything I had on the game. And I won! But did he pay? No, the coward fled the inn, hoping I would never find him! That was years ago, but I didn’t forget! Years later I was in the same inn when some fellow mentioned that some Lord Ellsworth had died. I asked – not knowing, mind you, that this would be the fellow – who he was. The innkeeper told me that it was the man who had played at cards so often in this very inn. So I travelled to this fellow’s house, broke in, and there above the fireplace was a portrait of the very man who had cheated me! I started with the cousin, but you’ll all pay for what that trickster did!”
“You are not a soldier,” Harry said, taking a step forward. “I have met soldiers. They are honorable, tough men. You are just a coward you kills women.”
“And five guards,” the man said smugly. “Plus, honorable men? What bloody war have you been fighting in? I don’t see honorable men. I see scared boys and old men herding them like cattle.”
“Enough talk,” Katherine said, pointing her rapier. “If you want to fight, then fight.”
“My-my,” the man said. “You are nothing at all like your cousin. She was all tears and moaning, begging, saying she would do
anything for her life. She couldn’t believe it when I cut her throat.”
“Coward,” Harry grunted. “Fight me!”
Harry lurched forward, his sword a blaze of movement. The man jumped back and parried with his saber, yelling in surprise. Harry moved quicker than any man she had ever seen. His sword seemed to blur the air: to be everywhere at once. At once he seemed to strike and parry, never giving an inch. Katherine watched, captivated, scared to intervene in such a practiced dance of war. Harry pushed the man across the library until he was backed up against the wall. The man grunted, and made to swing—
Harry stepped aside and thrust his sword into the man’s stomach. The man grunted, smiled madly, and then fell forward. Harry stepped back, ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt, and wiped his blade clean. “That’s done, then,” he said.
Katherine walked across to him and threw her arms around his neck. “You were fantastic!” she beamed. “You were unstoppable.”
The Duke hugged her back, pulling her close to him. “I believe I have finally found a lady as mad as me,” he said. “You are not scared, Katherine?”
Should I be scared? Yes, I suppose I should. I suppose I should be crying and wailing, begging for the madness to stop. I suppose I should be bemoaning the awful state of things. I suppose I should be acting the lady and asking to be excused so I can bathe for five hours and watch the filthiness of life from my very soul. But, oh, how very boring! How crudely oppressive! If I want to live, should I not live? If I want to be, should I not be?
“I am not scared, Harry,” Katherine said. “What do we do now?”
“Now I send for someone to clean up this mess. I will send a pigeon into the town.”
“And then?”
“And then,” he said, locking his eyes on her, “I will come to your bedchambers. Go there and wait for me.”
“Yes, my Duke,” she said, turning on her heels and walking past the dead man.
The Duke of Ice Page 21
