by Stacy Reid
She muttered soothing nonsense each time he tensed. At times he stilled, and it was the cadence of her voice, and her foolish promises he would be well, that urged him to relax. His mind searched for something to take away the pain. With her touching him, it was quite difficult to transport himself to the varied places he normally willed his mind to in order to escape the pain.
“I could bring you more pleasure than you’ve ever dreamed of.” Truly, his tongue seemed to be disconnected from his mind. Still, he watched her reaction keenly, anticipating the possibilities of her delightful reaction.
Her eyes widened, and the fingers kneading the muscles of his calf paused. “I do not think we should be speaking of pleasures now,” she murmured huskily, resuming her wondrous massage of the knotted flesh of his legs.
How intriguing that she was not repulsed by the twisted muscles.
She bit into her bottom lip, a frown furrowing her brows, her lively, intelligent eyes shooting him curious looks.
Ahh. “You are tempted.”
A flush ran along her body. “I am human; I daresay it is normal to be curious. I’ve heard many whispers throughout the season, and, since I’ve no hope of marrying, I daresay I do not have to be at all proper, do I?”
The notion of Miss Kitty Danvers being more improper…perhaps even a bit wicked, had his groin responding with a sweet, terrible ache. The sensation of arousal was so visceral, sweat beaded on his forehead, and with hungry desperation, he searched into himself, wanting to keep that feeling with him, wanting to know once more the sensation of lust pounding through his cock and hardening it.
Yet his cock did not respond, remaining flaccid within the confines of his trousers. Until her kneading fingers drifted up to his thighs, until the image of her sprawled on the small bed, eyes wide with desire and apprehension, her dress hiked wantonly to her hips as his eyes feasted on the pale skin of her inner thigh, sent a violent ache through his length, causing it to flex and harden.
The shock of it almost caused him to expire on the spot. A certain long-dead part of his body was stirring.
Impossible. Too many years longing. Too many nights dreaming.
“If you wish to be wicked, take off your clothes and come here.”
“You are outrageous, Your Grace,” she cried, blushing something fierce.
“Alexander,” he teased, distantly wondering what the hell he was doing.
Yet she did not run from him in feminine outrage. No, her beautiful eyes measured him, her lips pursed thoughtfully.
“And how would you pleasure me?”
“Strip naked, come sit on my mouth, and I’ll show you,” he drawled provocatively.
Her eyes widened until he thought they would eclipse her face.
“Sit…sit…” This time her entire body blushed red. “I cannot perceive your meaning,” she squawked, pushing his legs away without any finesse and jumping to her feet. “I…I…cannot credit you would be so indecent to even s-suggest…” she spluttered, fisting a hand on her hip.
“Sitting on my face so that I can lick your pretty quim?” And he knew it would be pretty, soft and plump, wet and silky. And sweet mercy. Tight.
Alexander couldn’t say what possessed him to tease her in such an outrageous and wicked manner. With a squeak, she fled from the bedroom, as if he had grown horns and a tail. He chuckled. An apology for his provoking crudeness must be made at once. And atonement, of course.
He shifted, ignoring the pain whispering through him. Before he could make his way from the bed, Miss Danvers returned, a basin clutched between her hands. Alexander narrowed his eyes as she marched over in quick, determined strides. “Miss Danvers, allow me to offer my sincerest apol—”
Icy water dumped over his head, shocking him.
The impudence! With a scowl, he glanced at her. “You wet our bed.”
Her eyes glowed with fire and, if he wasn’t mistaken, defiance and amusement. “Has your ardor cooled?”
An unidentifiable emotion swept through him. It hadn’t risen. Except…a heat stirred low in his gut, and a ghost of desire caressed over his cock, causing it to twitch. He faltered into complete stillness.
It was not his imagination. Sweet mercy.
“Alexander?” she asked with a frown, lowering the basin. “Are you well?”
When he did not reply, she dropped the basin on the floor and hurried over to him. “What is it? Speak to me, please.”
Then she touched his shoulder.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered but touching her, holding her.
Acting on the impulse, he tugged her onto his lower thigh, ruthlessly ignoring the shock of agony. He slowly breathed through the pain until it lessened and simply hugged her. And without question, she returned his embrace. The sexual need had vanished, and in its place was something tender, and for some reason that sensation felt more important. He kissed the top of her head, unable to express his appreciation.
“What was that for?” she whispered.
“For being a friend,” he replied gruffly.
Slowly her face turned toward him. Her eyes widened; her lips parted on a silent gasp. She pressed a delicate hand to her chest and regarded him without betraying either dismay or astonishment. Then she smiled, and it was the most radiant thing he’d ever witnessed. “I quite like being your friend…Alexander.”
The dawn broke right at that moment; the sun crested the horizon, warm glowing light chasing away the dark remnants of the night. Light spilled through the window, splashing bright sun into the small bedroom.
“I need to see the morning,” he murmured.
She did not question the odd turn of phrase, and he fancied she understood this was a routine for him. Each day, at the crest of dawn, before he broke his fast, he met the sun, the skies, the birds.
He stood and slowly made his way from the bedroom and down the small hall. Once he reached the front door, he opened it and breathed in deeply. The scent of last night’s rain was still heavy in the air, and he swore he could almost taste the purity of the sunshine.
Katherine came up beside him. “Don’t you smile?”
“I do.”
She arched a brow. “When? You are all but scowling now.”
“When the mood calls for it.”
Kitty shrugged. “I smile when I wake.”
An odd warmth slowly twisted through his body. “Do you?”
“Mm, the simple joy of greeting the sunshine and the morning.”
He squinted toward the sky, and she laughed.
“I smile when I hear the chirping of birds, when I smell the rain, hear the rumble of thunder. I smile before I sleep. I smile…because I am.”
“Perhaps you are merely addled,” he mused. “I’ve heard tell lunatics tend to grin a lot.”
Kitty spluttered, and she mockingly punched his arm.
He shifted, facing her, head tilted in quiet contemplation. “Perhaps I’ve been asleep.” For years so many feelings and sensations had been dormant, but now, everything pulsed beneath the surface of his skin, raw and primal, thrilling…and oddly enough, uncertain.
Alexander wasn’t sure who he was with this woman. And he did not like that. He liked a surety of emotions and the path one should walk in life. He prided himself on his honor and consistency of character, but for the second time since meeting Katherine Danvers, he wondered who he was…around this woman.
Something inside awakened with a trembling force. He wanted to make her his…in a way a man would make a lady his. If only…
Something stirred in him deep down, something gentle and tender and long forgotten.
He refused to draw her enticing scent of lavender too deeply into his lungs. He’d want it to stay there forever, and he couldn’t be that cruel, for he had the wealth and ruthless will to bend her to his whims.
But she coul
d be mine…if only for a little.
He stared at her, assessing the needs burning through him. “I like you.”
“You say that as if it is a grave crime,” she said with a teasing smile, though her eyes were curious…scared, almost, as they caressed his face.
Damn his selfish hide. She invited this, his ruthless heart whispered. Everything had changed. Everything.
“Perhaps it is,” he murmured.
Then he faced the breaking dawn, lifting his face to the paltry sunshine as it broke through the swollen clouds. At times like this, he needed no conversation, and he would spend the first hour or two of the day in silence.
He wanted to share his silence…his loneliness.
Except with her breathing in his space, the soft rasp of her breath lingering in the air…it filled the room with a measure of peace. Odd, to be certain. But there it was. Contentment.
Silence had always been dark, a reflection of past nightmares, a reminder of loneliness, an echo of emptiness. Now this silence seemed intimate, tender, hushed, hesitant, and a question lingered within its confines.
What do I hope for?
…
Kitty and the duke were kissing friends.
Such conduct, if it were known by society, would sink Kitty below reproach. It was outrageous and wicked, and she did not regret it.
She took a breath, feeling grumpy at the stiffness of her clothes. They had been barely wet earlier, and she had redressed with the duke’s help into the damaged clothing. He, too, had redressed, and they hadn’t spoken as she had acted his valet.
No, Kitty had been too busy blushing.
After more than an hour watching the sunrise in silence, hunger forced them to dress and had driven them to the larder, where they had stared, bemused, unsure what to do. Now they were in the small but very neat kitchen, determined to figure out something to eat. That packed larder hadn’t been with food already prepared. And Kitty planned several ways on how to gut George when she saw him. The man could have returned to them with help hours ago. But clearly, he wanted her alone with the duke! The sheer gall of it was flummoxing.
The duke took it all with his peculiar dash of humor, even though he swore to reprimand the man if he did not return today.
“I do not think we are getting it right,” the duke said dubiously, glancing from Kitty to the worn sheaf of paper in his hands.
“Not at all,” she replied cheerfully, “I daresay we are doing fine. We’ve followed all the instructions written down.”
“I’ve never seen such a lump at my table before. And let me tell you, Mrs. McGinnis works in my kitchen.”
Kitty scowled, some of her triumph and pride leeching away. They dipped their heads in unison, looking once more on the recipe. Kitty had been the one to spy the recipe papers and had adventurously declared that they were highly intelligent people and could figure out how to bake a simple cake. Why, she spoke three languages and excelled at watercolors and geography. The duke shockingly spoke nine languages. He was a great orator in the House of Lords and had once been praised and revered for his statesmanship. Surely two crafty and cunning heads could produce a cake eligible for consumption.
Only now, Kitty doubted it.
“I think…I think we forgot the eggs,” she muttered, squinting at the paper. “I did not see any eggs in the larder.”
“I thought I heard a fowl outside.” The duke peeked at her sideways. “I do not jest. Unless my hearing is now impaired.”
They glanced down at the half-white lump of batter on the stone counter.
“I do not recall adding sugar, do you?” Alexander asked with a heavy dollop of skepticism.
“That was your job. Can you not recall?”
The duke grabbed the large earthenware bowl over to his side of the counter. He bravely pinched off a piece of the dough and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened before they fluttered closed. He made a rough sound. She clasped her hands and waited, but the dratted man only chewed. “Well! How is it?”
His mien was serious as he replied, “Divine.”
“Truly?” She pinched a piece, popped it into her mouth, and choked. Dear God! “We are going to starve,” she said mournfully.
A flash of a smile. “Rubbish. If it gets bad, we’ll simply eat the dough. I’ve had worse.”
“You’ve had worse than this? I do not believe you for an instant!” To disabuse him of the notion, she hurriedly took it to the wastebasket and dumped it.
His low laugh pulled a smile to her lips.
He grabbed the sole remaining apple. “Let’s share.”
She nodded, sauntered over, and rested her hip on the counter. The duke held the apple out to her, and she leaned forward and took a generous bite. He scowled, then glanced at the apple and back at her.
“What big teeth you have, Miss Danvers.”
Kitty giggled, crunching her generous portion hungrily. He then took a bite before holding it back out to her.
And they ate the apple like that, neither commenting on the fact that a knife rested on the stone counter, and he could easily have cut the fruit in half.
Chapter Twelve
A few minutes after breaking their fast with the apple, George had returned to the small cottage, to Kitty’s abject relief. To spend another night with the duke in the same bed had simply been too much to contemplate. She was sure something debauched and regretful would have happened. She would have been ruined and sad and, well…the duke would be himself, none less for the wear.
“Didna I tell ye no’ tae worry,” the coachman had said in a mocking thick brogue when he had returned. There had been a definite salacious twinkle in the man’s light hazel eyes as he’d glanced between her and the duke. Alexander hadn’t rebuked the coachman for the impudence. He had only smiled and informed the man it was fortunate he’d returned just now.
Kitty had sent them her fiercest scowl, to the coachman’s amusement. Then it had warmed her heart to observe the gruff way the coachman questioned Alexander if he were well, and the genuine love and concern in his eyes.
She’d simply accepted their unorthodox relationship, admired it, even.
The carriage that had collected her now rumbled along a rocky road, and the driver urged the horses with speed, uncaring of her posterior. The duke had elected to ride ahead on his stallion, and once again, Kitty did not mind the privacy his decision afforded her. Unfortunately, it gave her time to dwell on his wonderful kisses—she could still taste and feel him against her lips—the improper manner in which he had teased her, and the wicked desires he roused in her heart. She was still slightly annoyed with herself for letting her guard down with him in the cottage.
I can give you more pleasure than you dream of.
And foolishly, she wanted to explore with him. Reckless!
Still, Kitty closed her eyes, leaned her head against the squabs, and allowed herself to imagine kissing the duke endlessly. If she were thinking clearly or logically, she would have been urging her thoughts in the opposite direction. But it seemed the only place she could be with him so freely and wantonly was in her dreams, and she would shamelessly indulge.
After about thirty minutes of driving along the rough, muddied path, they entered a well-paved road with towering elm and beech trees on each side of the road. The long driveway was stately and well tended, the rolling lawns spied through the trees seeming to spread for miles. She moved aside the curtain covering the carriage window, her breath catching at the magnificent view ahead.
Kitty felt as if she’d entered a fairy tale.
She had expected a dark castle with crumbled walls, thinking the duke’s reclusiveness had meant he’d shut himself away from everything. How utterly wrong she’d been. The rolling lands the carriage rumbled past were breathtaking. The looming castle atop a slight incline, surrounded by verdant grass and flowers,
was a palace of dreams.
The carriage pulled into the grand courtyard some minutes later, and the steps to the coach were knocked down. The door opened, and the duke was there to assist her from the equipage. Kitty allowed him to help her, and once she was from the carriage, she stared about her in stunned wonder.
The harsh gray of the granite castle was offset by beautiful gardens decorated with classical fountains—sea nymphs frolicked around a statue of Neptune, and a stag worshipped at Diana’s feet.
Behind the exquisite castle, a sweeping lawn led down to the picturesque lake. Within the lake were many small islands that were bedecked with weeping willows and abundant greenery.
“This place is magnificent, Alexander. A paradise.”
Before he could respond, a squeal of surprise or perhaps excitement tugged Kitty’s gaze to the steps leading to the large oak door with a lion head knocker.
A young girl and a gentleman walked toward them, and in their fair coloring, Kitty saw a resemblance. They were both blond and quite beautiful. The girl wore a pale pink dress, her blond ringlets caught in a loose chignon with artful tendrils cascading to kiss against her shoulder. As she drew closer, the shocking blue of her eyes was a perfect reflection of the duke’s wicked gaze.
The young man beside her, while they shared the same blond hair and fair complexion, had eyes of a pale green, and they were filled with friendly welcome. Sudden self-consciousness bit at Kitty, and she ran her hand across the front of her wrinkled, deplorable gown.
“You are beautiful, always. I daresay even in a sack you would be ravishing,” the duke murmured.
“Outrageous nonsense,” she said under her breath. Deep down, though, she was so pleased, she could barely contain it.
He smiled and stepped forward as the couple arrived.
“Alexander, I am so relieved you are home!” the girl cried, her inquisitive gaze darting between him and Kitty.
He bent to drop a kiss on her cheek. Then he shook the hand of the young man, who did nothing to mask his curiosity and stared at her with uncomfortable frankness. Kitty scowled at him, and his gaze widened.
