Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  Ridiculous. She’d obviously been reading too many romantic stories lately. Mrs. Tuttle had regaled Aubrey with some of the details of her own, wonderful wedding night, going so far as to explain far more to her than her mother ever had.

  Mr. Bateman walked around the tent and for the first time since she’d known him, seemed slightly uncomfortable. “He refused to lift his leg.” His voice sounded somewhat garbled. He cleared it and then added. “Perhaps you’d like to try?”

  Aubrey realized he was giving her an opportunity to relieve herself as well, without having to mention anything embarrassing.

  Nodding, and feeling grateful, she slipped her feet into her half boots once again and took Mr. Dog’s leading string. Still feeling lightheaded and… carefree… she wandered to the other side of the tent until she located a convenient place for herself behind a bush.

  Squatting down, she watched Mr. Bateman’s shadow from her distant vantage point almost absent-mindedly. The firelight illuminated his person from behind, casting the perfect shadow so that the tent barely concealed a thing, as he removed his shirt and then splashed water onto his face.

  She finished her business and then walked around until Mr. Dog saw fit to do so as well. It wasn’t until she strode back toward the tent that she realized.

  He could just as easily have watched her.

  And when she remembered the expression on his face when he returned, her heart jumped.

  He’d seen everything.

  Chapter 7

  Aubrey

  Rather than acknowledge him when she returned, Aubrey slipped off her boots and climbed directly into the tent, Mr. Dog right behind her. The temperature in the air had dropped considerably and now that she was some distance from the fire, she ought to have been cold. Instead, she burned all over.

  That didn’t stop her from climbing under the quilt to hide as much of herself as possible. Laying there, Mr. Dog curled up behind her knees, she heard Mr. Bateman’s every footstep. He seemed to be doing something with the fire, then putting some items into the carriage, and eventually his sounds drew to a halt at the foot of the tent.

  She held her breath as he removed his shoes and then crawled along the quilt less than a foot separating the two of them.

  Mr. Dog, however, felt it necessary to welcome Mr. Bateman into the small sleeping area by nosing out from beneath the covers and then dragging his long body over the folded quilt that lay between them.

  “Your son is escaping.” Laughter shook his voice. Mr. Dog dug for a moment and then after walking himself in a few circles, the traitor snuggled up beside Mr. Bateman.

  Aubrey stifled a moan and rolled so she wasn’t facing either of them.

  “Ah, Princesse. Don’t be embarrassed.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring inside of the tent, but it didn’t help.

  She was mortified.

  For all the wine she had, when she realized he’d watched her disrobing and then… touching herself that way… Someone might just as well have thrown cold water in her face.

  His hand dropped on her arm and one of the sobs she’d been holding back escaped.

  “Aubrey.” His voice was closer now.

  “I’m a horrible person!” It was all she could think to say. Not only because of what she’d done, but because of the thoughts she’d had while doing it. And if he was going to remain true to form, he’d likely known exactly what she’d been thinking.

  “You are not.” His hand exerted pressure so that she had to turn and face him.

  She rolled over but quickly covered her eyes. “I’ve never… I’m not…”

  “Then you are one of the only ones.” His voice sounded far too reassuring. Did that mean that he did that? Of course! He was a man though!

  “N-n-not ladies.”

  “Yes ladies.” He gently peeled her fingers away from her face. They were in near total darkness and all she could see was his silhouette. He hovered over her, careful to keep his weight from pressing into the dog lying between them.

  “I feel different,” she whispered. Somehow, with him so near, her actions earlier didn’t seem nearly so abhorrent. They seemed… natural.

  “What kind of different?” His gravelly voice wrapped around her in the darkness, inviting her to share all of her secrets.

  “Prickly. Achy.” Which made no sense at all. “Different.”

  “Ma Princesse.” He drew in a long, harsh breath. “You’re killing me.” And then his presence no longer hovered over her. In one determined motion, he’d returned to his side of the tent. She knew he was lying on his back now, because she could hear his breathing rasp into the air; heavy, gruff. “I won’t break my promise.”

  Aubrey licked her lips. Now was the time. If she wanted him to kiss her, all she had to do was release him from that stupid promise she’d dragged out of him… yesterday? Or had it only been today? She ought to consider him nothing more than a friendly traveling companion but he’d come to mean so much more to her. She felt as though she’d known him forever.

  “What if I want it?” She bit her lip, wondering if he would kiss her right away or if they would have a discussion first. “What if I want you to kiss me?”

  His answer, however, left her more devastated than she’d been before. “It doesn’t matter. You were correct in asserting that we should not.” He sounded regretful but that gave Aubrey little solace.

  He must not want to kiss her nearly as badly as she wanted to be kissed.

  “Right. What was I thinking?” She buried her face in the quilt once again. “You must know plenty of ladies, ladies with more experience, that you’d rather kiss.” And then an even more horrifying thought struck her. “You are certain you are not married?”

  “I am still not married, Aubrey. It’s just that…”

  “There is someone then. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have—“

  “If I kiss you now, I’m not going to stop at just a kiss. You may not realize but when I watched you changing behind the tent… even before… God. To be honest, I’ve wanted to make love to you since I caught you watching me through the window.” He sounded almost as tortured as she felt.

  His words emboldened her.

  “So, you do wish to kiss me.”

  “Hell yes, but… if I did… I couldn’t make any promises… lying here beside you all night—wondering what those pert little breasts of yours would feel like beneath my hands…in my mouth… wondering what sort of sounds you’d make when I buried myself between your soft thighs…”

  Aubrey’s lips parted, each breath of air she took more shallow than the last. He was saying all the things she’d been fighting in her own thoughts.

  And yet, he still hadn’t kissed her.

  “It’s a shame,” she managed on an exhale.

  He groaned. It was almost as though he was the one confused now.

  They’d come this far. Aubrey reminded herself that she was a widow. She was not a married woman, nor was she a virginal debutante. This might possibly be her only opportunity.

  He said he couldn’t stop at one kiss, and yet, she knew him. Without knowing his family, without ever visiting his home or meeting any of his friends, she was certain in every way that he would never hurt her.

  Pushing herself up to her knees, she reached across the folded quilt and hovered over him.

  His breath smelled of wine, and spice, and something new and yet familiar too. Her braid fell forward and rested against his lips until she gave her head a slight shake, causing it to slide down his chin and rest upon his chest.

  “Aubrey,” the relief in his voice was all she needed. Instead of waiting for him, she lowered her face so that less than an inch separated their mouths.

  “You will make this good for me? Make this a most excellent first kiss.” Because her heart cracked a little at the thought. It could very well be the only one she’d ever experience.

  “The kiss of a lifetime.”

  Those words, more than anything, bound her to
this man. Even if they said their goodbyes in London and never saw one another again, she would forever treasure this moment.

  His hands reached up behind her neck and at the same time he stretched up to meet her.

  Hot tears formed behind her eyes. In anticipation? In relief? He closed the gap between them and claimed her mouth, his lips moving softly against her own, asking, seeking. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to welcome him inside. His tongue teased along the tender skin behind her lips and then around her teeth. Aubrey tasted him back, afraid to move, afraid to break this tenuous connection.

  “Ma Princesse,” he whispered into her mouth. “Parfait. You taste perfect.” One of his hands touched the side of her face and the other dropped to her neck. Her pulse throbbed beneath his thumb as he stroked back and forth across her skin.

  Now she understood what he’d meant about not stopping. The longer the kiss went on—the more she wanted. Allowing her weight to rest on his bare chest, she lifted one of her hands to feel if his hair was as silky as she’d imagined.

  Oh, but it was. She threaded thick strands through her fingers before exploring his whiskered jaw: rough, solid, and firm.

  She wanted to consume him and yet be consumed at the same time.

  Mr. Bateman did not break the kiss. He did not turn his head, or tighten his lips, but he withdrew in other ways. His tongue ceased dancing with hers and his hands stilled. Gradually conscious of his passivity, her confidence bolted. He’d said he wanted her but with one kiss, his desire had waned. The realization left her feeling lost and empty. Pushing herself up, she drew back, accepting his decision with a heavy heart.

  His breaths rasped in the night air. As soon as she moved back to her side of the tent, he bolted into a sitting position.

  The wonderful feeling from a moment before had evaporated into guilt and regret and confusion. She’d played with fire and it had indeed, burned. He’d warned her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He’d told her ‘no’ and she’d been the one to break the rules. It had been stupid of her. She couldn’t blame it on the wine, or the darkness. She’d wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted…

  “You have no reason to be.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  More confusion. He’d told her he wasn’t married, that there wasn’t anyone else. So why…?

  “Are you in some sort of trouble?” He’d told her that he wasn’t running from the law but perhaps there was something else.

  He squeezed her hand. “Not yet, Princesse.”

  Why couldn’t he confide in her?

  She turned away from him and lay back down on her own side, wrapping the blanket around her.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Concern laced his voice, but he did not attempt to touch her again.

  She nodded, and then realizing he might not be able to see her in the darkness, “I’m fine. I’m going to sleep now.”

  Mr. Dog chose that moment to burrow beside her.

  Dogs were good. Pets were good. They didn’t have secret issues from their past or a future they couldn’t discuss with you. They simply wanted your love and your warmth and some food.

  Aubrey wrapped her arms around the Mr. Dog and pretended she didn’t hear Mr. Bateman slipping out of the tent.

  Or that she didn’t hear him stirring up the fire, kicking at some stones.

  She must remember that his companionship was only temporary. She had allowed herself to think there might be more, but when they arrived in London, she would be alone again.

  They would both say goodbye.

  * * *

  At the sound of birds chirping, Aubrey opened her eyes and stared at the canvas tarp above her. She would be forever grateful to forget the mortification of the night before. As much as she’d tried to sleep, she hadn’t drifted off until he had returned to the tent and laid down beside her.

  “Aubrey.”

  “How do you know I’m awake?” She didn’t turn to look at him. She didn’t want him to see the disappointment on her face when he informed her he was going to make the rest of the journey on his own.

  “Your breathing changed.”

  She swallowed hard. “Please don’t think that you are beholden… If you wish to resume your travels alone, I understand—“

  “Can we put last night behind us? Leave it in the past? We have just a few days left together, and I don’t want anything to ruin them.”

  “But you were angry—“

  “I was… frustrated last night. Please, don’t ask me to explain why.”

  This wasn’t at all what she expected. She rolled onto her side and found him propped up on one elbow, watching her. “You are no longer angry with me for kissing you?”

  “No.” His lips slowly stretched into a wide smile. “I never was.”

  And for the life of her, all she could do in that moment was stare back into his eyes, which looked more blue than gray today. Dark blues, light blues, royal blues… stunning really, with grays and blacks and silver flecks peppered amongst them all.

  “You were right, though, when you insisted that we uphold proprieties.” His words flowed over her and she had the feeling all his barriers were down. “So, let’s go on as if nothing happened, shall we?”

  Aubrey blinked at his request and thought back to what she’d said when she’d asked him not to kiss her.

  “If you kissed me I could not allow you to escort me the remainder of the way to London. It would not be proper… I mean, I know that already, our dealings are likely frowned upon, despite the fact that I am a widow and all, … but… I would judge myself…”

  It had been one of the first times she’d perceived that he took her seriously.

  “And you are not unhappy at the prospect of traveling with me?”

  She’d admitted that she was not. And then admitted that she’d prefer to have his company.

  “I rather like your company, too, Mrs. Bloomington.”

  “You would arrive in London quicker if you traveled alone. I’m certain you can acquire a mount from any number of the posting stations along this road.” She’d known this for some time now. Traveling with her was no longer necessary. “You needn’t continue to accompany me, if you don’t wish to. I’m certain Mr. Daniels will make sure I arrive at my destination safely… eventually.”

  Her heart ached at the thought of their imminent parting, which was absurd, and yet… Over the last few days, for the first time since she was a child, she’d felt as though she had a true friend.

  Not that Mrs. Tuttle hadn’t been her friend, but Mrs. Tuttle was in her eighties. Mr. Bateman was close to her own age and he laughed, and he encouraged her, and he was willing to get wet bathing her dog on the bank of a stream…

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Princesse?” She saw a little uncertainty in those blue eyes now.

  “No. Never.” Oh, but she would wear her heart on her sleeve with this man.

  “Let’s finish this adventure together then, shall we? I have three days yet before I’m expected in Margate. Plenty of time.” His eyes grew dreadfully serious. “It’s nice to just… be. With you.”

  Aubrey nodded. She felt the same.

  “Now,” he sat up suddenly. “If we’re going to continue this adventure it’s high time we climb out of bed and get that fire started again.” Aubrey barely heard what he said, her gaze caught up watching his bare chest and arms and abdomen, as he climbed out from beneath the quilts. She’d touched that skin last night. She’d run her hands along those sinewy lines.

  She’d rested her body on top of him.

  “Princesse?”

  She shook her head. “You said something about a fire?” It was difficult to focus on anything other than how his muscles moved beneath his smooth golden skin and that reddish-brown hairs formed a perfect trail down to his—

  “For tea, of course.” He flashed that grin at her again.

  Oh
, dear. Perhaps if she tried very hard, she could pretend their kiss had never happened. But she knew one thing for certain. There was no chance that she’d ever forget it. It had imprinted itself upon her soul.

  And unfortunately, left her wanting another.

  Chapter 8

  Aubrey

  “Why does food taste so much better when eaten outdoors?” Without having proper linen, Aubrey licked jam off her fingers. “Making a fire in the morning, brilliant notion, really,” Aubrey complimented Mr. Bateman before taking another sip of the hot tea they’d made. She didn’t normally eat much for breakfast but on this morning anyhow, she found herself consuming everything he put in front of her.

  He’d already cleaned his plate but remained sitting beside her, stirring the embers occasionally. “I’m always hungrier when I travel,” he agreed and then nudged her with his elbow. “Apparently so are you.”

  Aubrey didn’t contradict him on this, choosing instead to take another bite of cheese. It was as though she’d awoken from a long sleep and suddenly required additional fuel to survive.

  And adventure, and sunshine, and laughter.

  “I never would have guessed. This is the first time I’ve ever traveled anywhere.” And then picking up on what he’d said. “Do you travel often? What exactly is it that you do, to make your living? If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were an earl—no, a duke—that you lived off the revenue from your lands, but as you’re a lowly mister…” She elbowed him back this time.

  “I do a little of this and a little of that.” He slid her a sideways glance. “You mean for me to believe that you spent all of your life in the small village of Rockford Beach?”

  Rather than allow disappointment at his evasiveness to ruin the morning, Aubrey considered his question. “My father occasionally took us for drives into the countryside, and of course we were not far from the beach, itself.” The memory jolted her. “I think those were some of the last times Mother and I were truly happy. He became ill right around the time I turned twelve, a long lingering illness that managed to dim the light in our lives. It’s tragic, isn’t it, that as children we fail to appreciate the wonder of life when it is there for the taking? That we only realize the value of what we have after it is gone?” She hadn’t thought about those lighthearted drives for a very long time. It was bittersweet to do so now.