The Duke of Ice

by Lisa Andersen

  *****

  Katherine waited for two hours before the Duke arrived at her room. During the time, sleep was impossible. She kept imagining how he looked during the fight, strong and purposeful, full of life. He had been like an unstoppable machine; the other man had not stood a chance. Katherine propped herself against the headboard and watched the door. When it finally opened, sunlight was beginning to shine in through the window.

  “It is all sorted,” the Duke said. “The body has been removed, and the library has been cleaned. That madman will never hurt anybody again. I am glad to see that you are awake, Katherine.”

  “Why is that, Harry?” she said.

  “I think you know why,” he said, and strode across the bedroom. He stood before her, his hard cock plain to see through his britches. He reached down and grabbed her wrist, and then placed her hand upon his cock. She squeezed, feeling the hardness of it, the hugeness of it. “Rub it,” he said, in his do-not-argue voice. She rubbed it up and down over his britches, faster and harder. “I want to be inside you, my lady.”

  “Do it, then,” Katherine said, rubbing his cock even harder. “Do it, Duke. Do it.”

  He lifted her from the bed and placed her on her feet. Then he reached around her pulled her dress over her head. Quickly, he took off her under garment so she was standing there naked. He reached up and rubbed her breasts, squeezing them together. Her nipples hardened at his touch. Hot pleasure pulsated. He let go of her breasts and undressed quickly, until he was naked as well. They stared at each other for a moment. His body was as muscular as his clothes had suggested. Here and there, scars dotted his body, faded and pink and white. She ran her had along them, wondering what battle he’d caught them in.

  “You make me so hard, my lady,” he breathed, tracing his hand down her stomach to her womanhood. He pressed her clit with his finger. “Get on the bed.”

  She climbed onto the bed and opened her legs, looking up at him. He leaned over her and maneuvered so their bodies were close. Then he reached down and rubbed his manhood, pushing it toward her womanhood. She was wet, and eager, and ready, and he slid into her easily.

  She had never felt such a manhood. It was huge and reached into the sweet spot inside of her like none of the other men ever could. He thrust deep inside of her, slowly at first, and then quicker and quicker. Soon he was pounding into her, his cock spreading her lips and pushing pleasure through her.

  “Yes, Duke, yes,” she breathed into his neck. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “My lady!” he cried, as he thrust into her even quicker. “Oh, my lady.”

  She bounced up and down with the motion of his thrusts, pushing her womanhood down upon him, feeling his cock, huge and dominating within her. Pleasure built with each thrust, until she was lost to the world and utterly enthralled in the act. She focused on the heat his cock created in the sweet spot inside of her, the deep, pervasive heat. She focused on it until nothing else was real. And then the pleasure released, and her womanhood tightened around him as it all washed over her.

  “My lady,” he grunted. He reached down and grabbed her breasts, tweaking her nipples.

  “Spill it inside of me!” she cried wildly. She had never done this before. She had always finished the man with her hands. But this was a Duke. This was the most powerful man she had ever been with. She wanted him. She wanted all of him.

  He grabbed her breasts, compressing the flesh, and then he thrust into her one final time and grunted. “Ahhhhh!” he moaned, rolling onto his side.

  Katherine wiped sweat from her forehead and rolled onto her side, so her head rested upon his chest. Her eyes were already closing. She had already been exhausted from the night. Now she was even more tired. The Duke cradled her head and stroked his hands through her hair.

  “You are a dangerous woman,” he said. “You are a very dangerous woman.”

  “You are a dangerous man,” she replied. “You are the most dangerous man I have ever met.”

  “It seems we make quite the couple.”

  “Yes,” Katherine agreed. “It seems it does.”

  When she was nearly asleep – in that half-awake state that often provokes the most lucid thoughts – a thought came to Katherine which she had not expected at all. I will never sleep with another man again, she thought. It was a startling thought, one she had never even considered before. But once it came she knew it was the truth. She knew no other man could compare to the Duke, to what they had just done. She knew that it was the best lovemaking that existed. And she wanted to do it again and again and again; and never would another man be able to stop that urge from her. It wasn’t that she wanted to give herself to him. She wanted them both to take something from each other.

  “Is this love?” she whispered when she woke, thinking the Duke was still asleep.

  But he wasn’t. “I think it may be, my lady,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I think it may be. If love is finding your counterpoint in another, I cannot imagine another woman so suited to me as you are. If love is discovering that you know nothing about that which you assumed you knew everything, then this is love. If love never want to leave this bed, my lady, then I confess I am in love with you.”

  She kissed his hard-muscled chest.

  *****

  Three weeks passed as though in a dream. Mother heard that the man had been killed, and had written to Katherine to ask her to come home, but Katherine couldn’t think of anything worse than leaving the Duke right now. Harry often talked about returning to France, but Katherine could tell that he had no desire to leave her. Anyway, he had served for years. He had more than proved himself.

  One night, after their lovemaking, Harry pulled her to her feet. “Get dressed, Katherine,” he said. “I have ordered a dinner to be prepared for us.”

  Katherine jumped up and dressed herself in her finest gown. She looked at herself in the mirror: still the same dark, dangerous countenance. But was there a hint of love behind it all, a spark of something more humane? Once she was dressed, she went to the dining room to join the Duke.

  He was dressed in his finest military garb, something she had not seen since first coming here. He stood and kissed her on the cheek, not caring that a servant may see. Katherine returned his kiss and they sat opposite each other at the table. “These weeks have been mad,” he said. “They have been truly mad. When you came here – when my betrothed’s cousin came here – I never imagined that I would — that this would happen. I never for a moment imagined that events would take this turn. I thought you would merely be an acquaintance, and that is all. I never dreamt of this.”

  “And yet here we are,” Katherine said, sipping wine.

  “And yet here we are,” the Duke echoed. “I must admit, and perhaps it is an awful thing to say, that I chose the wrong cousin. You are, Katherine, the most dangerous, mad, unconventional woman I have ever met. I love you, and I do not want you to leave the Castle. I know your mother is asking for your return. But I believe I have a strategy that will stop all that. Lady Katherine Ellsworth, my lady, I wish you to be my wife.”

  “Truly?” Katherine said, unable to hide her surprise. She had given some thought to this in the first week after the madman had been killed, but nothing had come of it so she had discarded it from her mind. He wants me to be his wife. The Duke wants me to be his wife! But it wasn’t in Katherine’s nature to get giddy, so she said calmly: “I accept.”

  She hesitated, and then pushed forth: “It is for the best, Duke,” she said. “I have been meaning to tell you…” Just say it! “I have been meaning to tell you that I am with child. I am pregnant with your child.”

  Harry jumped across the table and pulled her into his arms. Katherine squealed and allowed herself to be carried around the dining-room. The maidservant came in, looked around, and then tactically retreated. Harry set her down and beamed at her. “I am so happy,” he said. “War, death, heartache, and now I am happy!”

  “I am happy, too,” Katherine
said. She was happy. She was as happy as it was possible for her to be. The future no longer looked dreary and boring. How could it be, when she was going to be the Duke’s wife? “Shall we retire for the evening?”

  “Are you not hungry?”

  “Oh, I’m hungry,” Katherine said, stroking the front of his britches. “That is why I wish to retire.”

  Epilogue

  Christopher ran around the garden, chasing butterflies and screaming like the maddest little boy in the world. Elizabeth (named after her deceased relative) bounced over to Katherine. “Mother,” she said, “I was talking to Christopher and he said you and Father met when a crazy man tried to hurt you. Is that true? Father told him that a crazy man was on the hunt for you and Grandmother! But that can’t be true, can it? That is like something out of a novel!”

  Katherine laughed aloud at her daughter’s perceptiveness. Had she herself not thought the same exact thing when it was all happening, all those years ago when she and Harry had fallen in love in the strangest circumstances, when all the social mores and constructs had fallen away and they had become two animals hungry for each other? “Listen here, dear,” Katherine said, leaning forward. “Your father and I met in the most normal circumstances you can imagine. We walked in rose gardens and he talked to me of flowers and—and, why are you laughing?”

  “You’re lying, Mother!” Elizabeth squealed, her cheeks red. “Isn’t she, Father?”

  Harry emerged onto the porch. Katherine turned to him as he kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her shoulder. Even now, after all these years, she was looking forward to bedtime. “Oh, no,” Harry said. “You see, it was the most normal and romantic circumstances one can imagine. I wrote her poetry. Yes, Elizabeth, I did! Don’t look at me like that!”

  Elizabeth giggled.

  “I did!” Harry went on. “And I knitted for her! Yes! I was quite the craftsman!”

  Harry had lost none of his handsomeness in the intervening years. Katherine looked at him with a deep love that would have shocked her years ago, before she met him. It was the kind of love she had never thought to feel.

  “Liar! Liar!” Elizabeth cried.

  Katherine let her head fall back and a smile touched her lips. She closed her eyes. Sunlight glowed red on her eyelids, and the sounds of her husband and her children came to her ears like birds tweeting. Perhaps one day he would tell the children the story of how they had met, perhaps one day when they were older and knew more of the world.

  But for now, she thought, let them have their dreams of roses and poems.

  Let them think it is all a fairytale.

  As Bad as You

  The wind blew through the open window, fluttering the thin, flowy curtains and chilling the cozy bedroom. The room itself was small but well decorated, with a big family painting above the small wooden fire place.

  With a huff, Emily rose from the king sized bed, gathering up her skirts and marching over to the open window. Long blonde hair fell in her eyes as she stood on her toes to shut it, pale hands stretching upward.

  As the window slid closed, Emily spotted something from the corner of her eyes. Not something - someone. Specifically, a young man she had seen before. Eugene Partridge. He climbed out of an elegant, expensive horse-drawn carriage, brushing down his black trousers. Even from such a distance, his shock of pale blonde hair was evident.

  Not a moment later, Emily’s mother shouted from the stairs, “Emily sweetheart! The lovely Eugene Partridge is here!”

  Emily grimaced. He was intent on marrying her, despite Emily’s clear disinterest in such an agreement. She had told her mother time and time again she knew exactly who to marry - and it wasn’t him. Still, she had to be civil to the man, and at least pretend she was interested, to keep the peace. So she gathered up her energy and drifted downstairs, biting on her lip so hard she thought it might bleed.

  Eugene sat on one of the overstuffed sofas in the living room, back straight and head high. He looked impassive - bored, even - but he smiled brightly when his dark green eyes landed on Emily. “Hello, Emily dear,” he greeted fondly.

  “Eugene.” His Christian name sounded odd on her tongue. She didn’t think she would ever get used to calling him so informally.

  “I had thought we could go out together today - there’s a lovely little place in town, and I think it would give us a wonderful chance to get to know each other.” Eugene simply beamed, gesturing for Emily to sit across from him.

  “I would love to, but you see I’m so busy today,” she replied, wincing at how false she sounded. Lying had never been a talent of hers. “I’m very sorry.”

  “You mean to say you cannot spare me a few hours? I’m sure-”

  Emily’s mother - Adele - laughed loudly as she opened the front door with a flourish. Even though the living room door was between them, Emily could hear her clearly. That in itself wasn’t unusual - she was a loud woman - but the sound of a man’s voice was odd indeed.

  Emily would have recognized that voice anywhere. Roland Everard. A smile graced her features as she leaned forward unconsciously, eager to hear his voice.

  A moment later a dark haired, bearded man burst through the door, grinning wildly. “Emily, I-” he paused, taking in the sight. His face dropped as he saw the other man, and he backed out. “Terribly sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.” He disappeared a moment later, smiling sheepishly as he closed the door.

  “Who was that scoundrel?” Eugene demanded, blue eyes narrowed. “Bursting in here like that! How rude.”

  Emily gently patted his hand, before adjusting her skirts and standing up. “I’m so sorry Mister Par- Eugene. Excuse me for a moment.” She gave him what she hoped was an apologetic look as she followed Roland into the hall.

  “What is he doing here?” Roland demanded in a hushed whisper. “Your mother isn’t still trying to marry you off, is she?”

  Emily nodded. “Of course she is. To him or the Duke of St. Albans. She doesn’t care as long as money is involved. Eugene might not be an Earl like this father - especially now he’s disinherited - but he’s as good as.” She huffed, running a hand down her face. “Besides, Eugene Partridge really does claim he loves me - whether or not that’s true, I don’t know.”

  “Well, is there nothing you can do to convince him otherwise? You can marry whoever you wish. You could marry me, if that was what you wanted.” He gave her a grin, one she was used to seeing. He wanted her too, though not for love.

  It wasn’t that easy though, was it? Her mother was too determined, and when Adele Brooke wanted something, she usually got it.

  “Emily? Do come back, would you? I didn’t come all this way just to sit in your living room alone.”

  Emily winced. “I suppose I should go back. Sorry, Roland.” With a quiet sigh she turned back and went back to the living room.

  He regarded her for a long moment, eyes lit. “So what have you been doing this week?”

  Not bothering for subtlety, Emily answered simply, “I had a visit from the Duke of St. Albans on Monday.” Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she watching him for a moment.

  His reaction was small, but nevertheless there. He stiffened slightly, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. I suppose he wants to marry me too. So does that lovely man who just came in - you don’t know him, but he is nice.” A while back she would never have dared speak to a man of such power like that - now though, she was only focused on making him leave her be.

  “I’ll have to fight for your attention then.” The grin he gave her – cheeky, yet slightly reserved - sent a shiver of shock down her spine. “After all, Emily, I love you more than they do.”

  “You love me most? Are you sure?” she challenged, peeking at him through strawberry blonde hair.

  “I do indeed.”

  *****

  The second visit that week was from the Duke of St. Albans - Miles Horlock. He was a tall, slender man who possessed
a somewhat intimidating air.

  Emily was already in the cramped living room waiting for him to arrive when she heard the horse-drawn carriage clatter up to the front door. Her mother answered it eagerly before Emily could even stand up - proof that Adele was much more interested in these men than she was.

  He appeared in her view a moment later, dressed in an expensive suit, blonde hair perfectly styled to show off his narrow, depthless dark eyes. She had to admit, he was quite attractive.

  “Hello, Duke Horlock,” Emily spoke politely.

  “Hello, Emily.” He lowered himself onto the chair across from her, regarding her with those impossibly dark eyes.

  She was used to talking to men by now, with three in her life that seemed intent on marrying her. The son of an Earl who claimed he loved her, a Duke who she had met only a handful of times, and a man whose feelings were purely lustful. She really did have poor luck, didn’t she?

  “I am holding a ball next week,” Horlock stated with a calm smile, “I hope you will attend?”

  Emily blinked, surprised. “Oh, of course.” Her reply was automatic. She had no interest in spending a night dancing with him. Then a thought occurred to her. “Who else will be attending?”

  “Oh, people from all over. The Duke of Rutland, Earl Christopher Partridge - perhaps even that son of his will attend, though I doubt the Earl will have it. They’re entire family is a disaster waiting to happen, isn’t it Emily?”

  She simply nodded, holding her tongue. If Eugene was also attending, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be married off to some random man - if she could get the two of them together, well, she could do things her own way.

  “People from town will be attending too, of course. We have to give the poor ones a chance to enjoy life, don’t we?”

  Emily winced at the words, feeling her blood begin to boil. How dare he say something like that? Just because he was rich did not mean he could talk as if everyone else was miserable. She said nothing, though, as she knew angering this man would not end in her favour.