Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  “I imagine he does!” Mr. Keller declared. And then tankards lifted all around them followed by more cheers.

  Mr. Bateman did not remove his arm from around her shoulders but kept her close beside him. Half of her meat pie remained on the table and with the turmoil spinning around inside her, there was no way she would be able to eat anymore. He seemed to sense this.

  “I hear music coming from the other end of town. Shall we make our way closer to the entertainment?”

  Without looking meeting his eyes she nodded and allowed him to assist her to her feet. Her knees were a wobbly, but she didn’t know if that was because of the ale she’d consumed or the effects of Mr. Bateman’s kiss.

  Holding hands, they strolled slowly along the bustling line of venders, stopping along the way to admire various items. She’d already purchased a few intricately embroidered handkerchiefs but found herself more than a little impressed by some of the craftmanship.

  “I didn’t think Joseph’s Well was a large enough village to have so many talented people living and working here.”

  Mr. Bateman chuckled. “They do not live here. Most of them are traveling merchants.”

  “But of course! Foolish of me.” She shook her head, embarrassed, but he pulled her to a halt, drawing her closer to him at the same time.

  “Not foolish. You are never foolish, Princesse.” He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to see into his eyes. His lips were parted, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his heart was racing as quickly as hers.

  “You are enjoying yourself, Mrs. Bateman?” His voice held some laughter, but also something else, as though her answer mattered a great deal.

  “Immensely.” And as she often did while in his presence, found herself grinning up at him. “And you, Mr. Bateman? Is your leg-shackle as uncomfortable as you have imagined?”

  The playacting was bittersweet. Embrace what she had today…

  “Quite the opposite, wife.” His gaze fell to her lips just before he bent forward and settled his mouth on hers again.

  Sweet, tender… too short.

  He lifted his head and ran one hand through his hair. “Come this way, Wife,” he surprised her by saying, tugging her along into yet another tent.

  Reflections of the waning sunlight bounced off of the jewelry displayed by this particular merchant.

  Aubrey hesitated to study the wares. She had never worn jewelry of any sort. Not when she was younger, and most definitely, not after she’d married.

  Vanity, Harrison had never hesitated to remind her, was a sin.

  “My wife is in need of a ring.” Mr. Bateman was studying the display. He lifted one up to inspect and then, taking her hand, slipped it on her finger. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

  “But I couldn’t.” Only it fit her perfectly and she never would have guessed at the pleasure she felt to see something sparkling on her hand. The metal was a twisted silver with one small stone embedded in the setting. Brilliant blue, reminding her of his eyes.

  “It’s only paste.” He argued.

  “Oh, but it is n—“ the merchant began but was halted by a hard glance from Mr. Bateman.

  “It is too dear.”

  “It’s only a trinket.” He stared down at her hand, seemingly as pleased with the effect as she was.

  Even if it was made of the cheapest of materials, she’d cherish it forever. With quick perusal of the other offerings, she lifted a second ring, similar but designed for a man. “Then you must have one as well.” And she took his hand and slid it onto his slim but masculine ring finger. It looked quite elegant, and she found even more satisfied looking at his than her own.

  “Very well.” He laughed. “Our marriage is official now.”

  She pulled some coins from her reticule, but when she went to pay, he shook his head. “Put that away.”

  “But it is my gift to you!” She folded the coins into his hand and before he could argue added. “I will wait outside while you pay.” And then leaning forward. “Be certain to haggle with him, I imagine he expects it.”

  With a smiling glance over her shoulder, she stepped out and stared up at the sky. Stars already twinkled in the twilight sky and a gentle wind cooled her cheeks. This was one of those moments she’d remember forever. The fortune teller’s words whispered in her mind once again. She would savour this moment, this night.

  Arms wrapped around her from behind, sending even more spirals of giddiness through her. “Thank you for the ring, Princess.” His voice sounded gravelly and his French accent thicker than normal. She held out her hand for inspection.

  “And thank you for mine.”

  He would joke. They could pretend for this afternoon, this evening. The music struck up again and he turned to gesture that they proceed. As the volume of the revelry increased, dancers came into view. This part of the road had been blocked off and lanterns strung overhead.

  Aubrey was surprised to see the Wootens on the floor dancing, along with a few other familiar faces of people whose names she could not remember. She and Mr. Bateman stood watching as the line dance was well under way and seemed somewhat complicated.

  “Did you dance, much, Princess, in the village you called home?”

  She had never learned. Frowning to herself, she shook her head side to side.

  “Say this isn’t so!” He’d spun her so that she was looking at him. “It’s my duty as a gentleman to correct such a travesty.”

  The music stopped just then and a few of the couples paired up when the musicians began to play something slower—something romantic.

  Not giving her a chance to escape, Mr. Bateman pulled her away from the crowd, placed her left hand on his shoulder and took hold of her right hand in his. “I will teach you.”

  “I cannot.” She dropped her head. “It would be too embarrassing.” But his right hand was on her back and he seemed quite determined.

  “Chin up. Look at me.” And with some pressure from his hand along with a nudge, she was stepping backward. She fumbled a few times and when she thought he might normally laugh, he only nodded encouragingly, positioned them both and began again.

  “I cannot.” But she was laughing and walking backward at his insistence. Then he tugged her forward. When the steps began to feel familiar, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter again—more joyful than embarrassed.

  A handsome man was holding her in his arms, the music, made up of a collection of various stringed instruments floated on the air, and flickering lanterns swayed in the breeze above them.

  “Is this the waltz?” She’d heard of it and how scandalous it was. Made by the devil, Winifred had mentioned once.

  Mr. Bateman chuckled. “It is some variation of it.” He was making fun of her, but she did not care.

  She was beginning to get the gist of it and after a while, he led her closer to the music, amidst the other dancers.

  “I am stomping on your toes.” She admitted ruefully but he simply held her closer. When the music halted again, he didn’t release her but waited until it began again, this time an even slower melody.

  Perhaps she could believe in magic after all.

  The steps came easily and there was nowhere for her to look but into his eyes. Neither smiled, but something passed between them, an understanding that this moment was special. It was meant for the two of them. It would never be forgotten.

  “I will miss you, Aubrey.” The words were spoken softly, almost as though his throat had closed up with emotion.

  “I will miss you, Mr. Bateman.”

  “Chance.”

  “It’s an unusual name.”

  “It’s short for Charles but also my––. I think we are beyond such formalities, don’t you?”

  “Chance.” She tested the name on her tongue. “I will miss you, Chance.”

  He held her closer, in a manner that she knew would never be considered proper by most, but she didn’t care. This night would end soon enough. As she felt his lips brush t
he side of her face, she turned and pressed her face into his chest. Inhaling, she memorized the texture of his shirt and jacket, the spicy scent that was a blend of soap and sweat that somehow managed to be more alluring than any cologne she’d ever known. And then she pressed a kiss onto his shirt front.

  When the music ended, they both remained in each other’s arms. “Shall we walk back by ourselves, Princesse?”

  He was Chance.

  The evening was almost over. She would take every moment she could.

  “You are not too tired?” he asked when she didn’t answer right away.

  “I am not too tired. Yes, lets walk back together alone. Let’s go home.”

  Oh, but it wasn’t home and sadness would come all too quickly. The music struck up again, livelier this time, and he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Together they moved around the dancers until they could capture the Wooten’s attention. Chance informed them that he and his wife would return to the house on foot. Already they had left Mr. Dog alone for too long.

  Mrs. Wooten smiled. “Don’t bother waiting up!” She instructed. And then, with a wave goodbye, sent Aubrey a wink.

  Neither Aubrey nor Mr. Bateman spoke much walking back. But he kept her close beside him as though he was unwilling to let her go.

  Don’t let me go then.

  An impossible plea. Something, or someone, in his life had some sort of a hold over him. He’d promised her that he was not married, and she knew he wasn’t a criminal. He would walk away from her in a day or two’s time and that would be the end of it.

  Before they even entered the house, Mr. Dog let out a string of barks, and then welcomed them enthusiastically when they stepped into the kitchen. Mr. Bateman—Chance—released her hand in order to strike a flint and then light a few candles.

  “I’ll fetch his leading string and take him outside.” Aubrey edged around the table. The Wootens were not home yet and there was nobody to pretend for.

  She returned from the attic to find that he’d stoked the fire in the stove and put on some water. “I’ll take him out. You shouldn’t wander around in the dark by yourself.”

  Aubrey swallowed hard, remembering the last time he’d taken her dog out. “Make sure he cannot escape this time.” She doubted he’d be happy to chase the pup through the fields in the dark tonight.

  The day had been lovely, but it had been tiring. In a physical sense, yes, but also emotionally. She could not remember ever feeling so awakened, so alive. Knowing it would end soon, however, left her feeling exposed in an altogether different way, and that was coming to weigh heavily upon her.

  “He won’t get the best of me twice, Princess.” Aubrey barely made out his grin before he turned with Mr. Dog toward the door.

  Not knowing how long he’d be gone, she poured a pitcher of warm water and then taking one of the tapers, hurried upstairs. She’d not wish him to return to discover she’d done nothing but stand in the kitchen mooning after him. Once in their attic room, she reluctantly removed the lovely gown Mrs. Wooten had loaned her and draped it over a chair. The air was cool, but her skin was hot. Once undressed, she washed the dirt of the day off, as much as she could with one cloth, and then slid into her night rail.

  He did not come upstairs right away. She heard the door close, and then other sounds from the kitchen. He might be going to feed Mr. Dog, or give him some water. She was tempted to climb into the comfortable looking bed, but they hadn’t discussed what their sleeping arrangements would be.

  She wasn’t certain what she wanted them to be.

  Follow your heart…

  There really was no other comfortable place for him to sleep and the Wootens would expect him to bed down upstairs with her…

  “Aubrey?” She jumped. She’d been contemplating the night so hard that she hadn’t heard him climb the stairs.

  His hair was wet, and he’d removed his waistcoat and jacket. He’d slept beside her in the tent two nights before but being like this, in the same chamber, with only one bed, felt ever so much more intimate.

  She could not prevent herself from staring at the curling tendrils of hair on his bare chest revealed as he’d unfastened the buttons at the top of his shirt.

  This could very well be her only opportunity.

  She licked her lips and gathered all the courage she could muster. How, exactly, did a lady go about offering herself to a man? With the light of only two candles, Aubrey stared at him solemnly, then reached down and lifted her night rail up and over her head.

  By the time she dropped it on the floor she could not turn back.

  He stood frozen, staring at her, all the laughter normally present, now absent from his eyes. She could see by the rise and fall of his chest, however, that he was not unmoved.

  “Aubrey,” he spoke her name on a groan, almost as though he was in physical pain.

  “We should consummate our marriage.” Aubrey wondered how she had the audacity to utter something so shamelessly wanton.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to you,” but his eyes roved over her nakedness and he’d moved closer. So close that his scent surrounded her. “I cannot—“

  Aubrey reached out and stopped his words with her fingertips. She allowed her other hand to part the top of his shirt so that she could touch the hairs she’d found fascinating just moments before.

  If she did not have him now, she was certain, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

  “I have not known love, Chance. I have not known physical satisfaction with a man. It is all I ask of you tonight. Just for tonight, won’t you love me?”

  His jaw clenched and his throat moved as he swallowed hard.

  “Please?” She added.

  It was then that his eyes changed from tormented self-control to something else—something wild. He licked his lips at the same time he reached to unfasten his falls.

  “You’ll hate me someday, Aubrey, I promise you that.” He whipped his shirt over his head.

  “I will never hate you,” she vowed. They stood very close to each other without touching. Aubrey needed him to know she would not change her mind. For so much of her life she’d suppressed her wants, her desires. On this night, perhaps this night only, she would free them

  “Que Dieu me vienne en aide!” He groaned as she dragged her fingertips along his chest, between his hard but flat nipples, to a smooth line between the sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He let out a hiss when her fingertips circled his navel.

  Her eyes dropped lower, and although she’d been bold to this point, suddenly faltered.

  Despite her having disrobed in front of him, he’d not touched her. Her breath caught in her throat, and seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours, it felt like, until he finally reached out his hand. Even then, he only touched her cheek.

  He was fighting a war within himself, and she was doing her best to break through his defenses.

  “Ma princesse,” His hand trailed down her neck then and a shudder ran through him. Aubrey caught his hand in hers and dragged it to her breast.

  “Hold me.”

  He stepped closer, his head dropped and his mouth opened against her shoulder. The heat from his breath warmed her at the same time she leaned into his palm. The touch of his hair by her face, the heat coming off of his body. “Hold me.” She begged him again. For so long, without even realizing it, she had craved a sensual touch, craved this—craved him.

  She’d never known skin against skin. Not like this.

  When his mouth finally captured hers, her knees nearly buckled in relief. And as though he sensed her sudden weakness, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Reclining back on her elbows on the bed now, she would have whimpered if he didn’t then work to step out of his trousers. Aubrey licked her lips in anticipation and when he turned back toward her, widened her eyes in appreciation and surprise.

  His desire was readily apparent in the flickering shadows, protruding from curling brown hair, s
eemingly growing larger and bobbing as she studied it.

  Aubrey had never touched one before and her dear Mr. Bateman was so much longer and thicker than, but no, she would not think of her dead husband.

  Chance took hold of her hand, drew it toward him and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

  Hot. Throbbing. Silky smooth. His hand worked hers along his skin, sliding, squeezing. She nodded, fascinated.

  “See what you do to me, Princesse? Never doubt your beauty, your attraction.” But then he was on the bed, over her, covering her. “I cannot deny you this, but it will be about you. I want you to know pleasure, such that you’ll know there is more to love than duty.”

  Aubrey opened her legs wide, making room for him. Of course, she was no virgin. A secret place in her brain knew, hoped, that it would be different with Chance, but she could not be certain. She lay beneath him and pinched her eyes shut.

  “Aubrey,” he kissed the corner of her mouth, so tenderly that she could not help but open her eyes again. “Relax, Princesse.” His hand cradled her breast again, kneading her flesh, rubbing his thumb over the tip. “Tell me what you like. Do you like this?”

  All she could do was sigh.

  His mouth left hers to trail downward to capture the breast he’d neglected. This time she arched her back. “Do you like this, Princesse?” He tugged her flesh into his mouth, and she was lost to the feel of his teeth, his tongue.

  He stopped. “You must tell me.” He was looking up to watch her eyes.

  “I… I… do. I like it.” She did not want him to stop.

  This time she actually cried out when he drew her into his mouth. His satisfied laughter vibrated through her.

  She had wondered what it would be like to lie with this man. If she were to be honest with herself, she’d wondered since the moment she caught sight of him tending to his horse. He was touching her leisurely. It seemed that he would draw their love making out like a great banquet. “Chance.” His name escaped her lips.

  Already, he’d surpassed all her expectations.

  His mouth moved lower, over the soft flesh of her abdomen, while one hand roamed along her leg and the other remained at her breast. The sight of his head, of his hair against her naked flesh was enough to excite her on its own. The sinewy strength of his arms, of his hands, touching her…